At Last...

STAR WARS EPISODE I: THE PHANTOM MENACE

Reviewed by Matt Brown
August 1999

Foreward, February 2010: Lookit: I'm a Star Wars fan. About as painfully as one can be. I love this stuff dearly. But I'd be foolish to deny that the following positive review of The Phantom Menace is a) the unabashed subjective ravings of a Star Wars fanatic, with no effort made towards objectivity at all; and b) the single review by which most readers will summarily dismiss the other thousand-plus reviews on this site. Do I recant my take? Not really. I still like Phantom Menace a lot, better than its successors in some ways, and think the film's global dislike has taken on a measure outweighing its true value. Do I still think TPM is as great as I make out below? No, not that either.

Foreward, August 1999: Why did I wait so long (three months) before writing this review? To be frank, my body needed time to adjust to the fact that there was a new Star Wars story at all, let alone a new film with its own triumphs and faults. I discuss some of those triumphs, and yes, some of those faults, here. Recent conversations with my former York classmates indicate that they think I am either so stupid or so deluded that the only reason I would like TPM is because it is a Star Wars movie. I assure them, and anyone else, that I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind about whether or not a movie is good. I wouldn't go see something 18 times if I thought it was a bad movie.

It is not with any insignificance that George Lucas has repeatedly stated that the Star Wars prequel trilogy would not be what the fans expect. The first and most obvious thing about The Phantom Menace is that in almost every way, from tone to storyline to emphasis to theme, it is not what I have been expecting / waiting for, for the last 16 years. That simple fact is easily responsible for much of the detraction people have leveled against the film. It is also responsible, I feel, for many of TPM's best points, and also its worst. In the final analysis, The Phantom Menace is a strangely bipolar experience: most of it is really good, but some of it is mystifyingly poor, displaying a strange lack of conviction, a feeling we are unused to in this charged-up, heart-on-your-sleeve universe.

First, "the good."

I must admit that when I saw Elizabeth last winter, it very closely matched my expectations for the prequel trilogy: a dark, Machiavellian tale of court intrigue and bitter betrayals in politics and love. The Phantom Menace is most certainly not this (leave that to the next two episodes); nor is it in any significant way even remotely close to the storyline I expected. I spent all of the last two years trying desperately to avoid plot spoilers and believing that I was failing miserably; I'm glad to report I actually did a bang-up job. I had no idea what was coming. First and foremost, The Phantom Menace fulfilled the only expectation that I was absolutely adamant: it told me a new and amazing story inside the Star Wars universe, something that it was its own and unique, very obviously from the mind of George Lucas, and was therefore completely capable of holding me spellbound.

The Phantom Menace is spellbinding. It is the most important piece of imaginative filmmaking of the last twenty years. It is, for people like me, the holy grail of cinema: a uniquely cinematic tale, realizing a crystal-clear vision of a created universe completely unlike our own, telling us a story that we have not (could not have) encountered before. It weaves a world before us that is so stunningly realized as to seem absolutely real; this film is a triumph of art design, and art design with depth. The elements of this landscape, every single one of them, have reasoning, imagination, and a good dollop of whimsy behind them. From the techno-organic (and entirely theme-supporting) environs of Otoh Gunga to the 24 individually designed and unique pod racers, every last thing we see on the screen is fascinating. This film is worth seeing three times just so that you can be sure to drink it all in.

Furthermore, The Phantom Menace brings a series of fascinating new elements into the Star Wars saga. Premiere among them are some of the new characters, including Liam Neeson's dignified Qui-Gon, and the delightful Watto. One of the film's great triumphs is Jar Jar Binks, with whom legions have problems, but is, if nothing else, the most astonishing blending of character and special effects in the history of cinema. Think about it: even if you hate him, your reaction proves that he was real to you. Nobody hated Jar Jar because he was unrealistic; unfortunately, the fact that he is CGI gives him a little undue attention, meaning he is not just dismissed (as would a human counterpart) as simply a character we don't like. Equally entrancing are the other digital co-stars, particularly Sebulba; all of them spring vividly from the digital canvas.

Beyond the characters themselves, many of Phantom's landscapes, storylines and ideas bring it to the foreground as a sparkling and daring Star Wars entry. The journey through the planet core, as I realized the first time I watched the film, is something completely new to the Star Wars saga. Rather than cold space and beaten-up technology, this is an organic space, an organic craft, and an organic series of menaces (the wonderful sea creatures). It sets the tone for what is coming; less science fiction, and far more mythology, than were present in the original trilogy. It is proof that Lucas is finally telling the story he always wanted to tell. As a mythological version of Utopia, Naboo is breathtakingly realized, particularly the capital city of Theed, which is by turns the most beautiful jewel in the galaxy (when Amidala reigns), and a dark and foreboding stronghold worthy of Lord of the Rings (during the invasion, when the Neimodians hold the castle). Anakin's stargazing scene, followed by the arrival of Darth Maul on Tatooine, carries a wonderfully chilling feeling of foreshadowing. And finally, the best scene of the film, R2-D2 zooming across the surface of the Queen's ship in deep space to valiantly repair the hyperdrive while his cohorts are picked off one by one, is monumentally enjoyable.

All of this is wonderful Star Wars. Strangely, however, for all the conviction with which these elements are painstakingly brought to the screen, there are other elements which seem to have been thrown into the mix with a minimum of attention. They make up "the bad."

The Phantom Menace has, as one might expect from a project both tremendously complex and tremendously burdened by expectation, its share of disappointments. For a film where one of the primary themes is duality, The Phantom Menace shows a great deal of duality of its own: strong and weak coexisting side by side. Some of the weaker aspects, or assumed weaker aspects, can be attributed to fan misexpectation. There are, however, faults here that are currently inexplicable by any rationale.

First off, The Phantom Menace bears the burden, to both its benefit and detraction, of being the one great shove that gets the whole Star Wars wagon rolling. Being the introduction is never an easy gig, and it is this difficulty that creates many problems within the film. (Read book I of Lord of the Rings if you doubt this.)

Narratively, The Phantom Menace is both very complicated and very simple. Its overall apparent plotline is nicely dual-linear to coincide with the duality theme. The first half of the film is about getting to Coruscant, and the second half is about dealing with what happened there. The actual machinations of the plot, however, take a winding road as a debt to the fact that Lucas has constructed a remarkable narrative structure of diversion to hide the inherent plotline: Darth Sidious' march to power. We watch this film believing we are watching Qui-Gon Jinn's last great adventure, as he paves the way for the rise of the Chosen One; or that we are watching young Queen Amidala deal with and eventually overthrow an attempted occupation of her people; or that we are watching a young boy take the first steps towards fulfilling a lifelong dream. At almost no point during the story do we suspect that all of these characters are merely pawns in Darth Sidious' great theatre of deception. None of the characters' actions will ultimately end up signifying any of the good they intend. They are writing the first script of eventual doom. Yet they go about it all blissfully unaware of the dark destiny they are helping to unfold. I believe that when the entire saga is put together, and we have the opportunity to review The Phantom Menace with the benefit of hindsight, it will seem like a much sicker movie. The hidden plot will become the main plot. (For more about this idea, read this.) For now, it is this hidden nature of the plot of The Phantom Menace which, I believe, is responsible for several of the fans' problems with the film.

It all comes back to the prequels not being what the fans would expect. What we expected was to see a story about a young Obi-Wan Kenobi meeting Anakin Skywalker and agreeing to train him, while the seeds of Anakin's eventual whirlwind romance with Amidala are sown. What we were given instead was a story where Obi-Wan, and the Anakin-Amidala love story, are minor or nonexistent plot points. They are only rudimentarily planted here, owing to the fact that they will pay off much more significantly in the next two films. Many people have complained, in particular, about Obi-Wan's lack of importance in the film. I believe they are only saying this because they are seeing The Phantom Menace from the point of view of the original trilogy; they have always expected the prequel trilogy to be about Obi-Wan. What they fail to see is that at various times in the saga, different characters play roles of differing layers of importance; compare the three appearances of Jabba the Hutt, for example, or of Lando, or the Emperor. Rather than being a major character in The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan's role in the film, until Qui-Gon's death, is merely to be the dutiful apprentice. He will become central later in the trilogy, but that time is not here. Qui-Gon is the master, the main character, the sorceror, the Gandalf, the Episode 4 version of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan in Episode 1 is like most other sorceror's apprentices in other stories; little more than a servant who is paid with knowledge and experience rather than money. It is only when Qui-Gon is killed by Darth Maul that Obi-Wan ascends, and becomes a major character by virtue of the fact that he has chosen to take on Qui-Gon's mantle, and carry on his responsibilities. This story is not, therefore, about how Obi-Wan met Anakin. This story is about how Qui-Gon discovered Anakin, and how Obi-Wan's loyalty to his master compelled him to carry on Qui-Gon's work after his death. That creates a far more dramatic dynamic between Obi-Wan and Anakin, to pay off in the future films, than simply Obi-Wan taking Anakin on as an apprentice out of vain pride (as was hinted in the original trilogy).

The other "disappointing" apprentice, Darth Maul, is also a victim of too much expectation of importance. Darth Sidious is the primary villain of this film, but unfortunately, the marketing and the merchandising have locked onto Darth Maul as the more visually interesting of the two. The result is fans who expected the ultimate Star Wars badass, and instead got a bit player whose only role is as the Hand of Fate, moving responsibility for Anakin from Qui-Gon to Obi- Wan. (To the disappointed fans, I cannot help but point out that they have made a pop culture icon out of the only other Star Wars bad guy to have less than half a dozen lines. Get over yourselves.)

These are some examples of the "lack of conviction" I mentioned earlier, and are easily explained away; these elements were never intended to be large plot points; they were just assumed (by us) to be. Fine, I'll forgive that.

What boggles and disappoints me is that there are other aspects of the story which are barely touched, but which could have, if well exploited, given far more resonance to the story, and made it a much more interesting two hours.

Compare and contrast. The R2-D2 scene I mentioned earlier is a perfect example of a brilliant moment, played exactly as it should be: this is quite possibly the best introduction to R2-D2 we could possibly have hoped for, and it gets the fans of the series on their feet cheering. It is exactly what was necessary to both establish the character and pay hommage to his existing image.

On the other hand, take a simple idea like the Gungan invasion. When you think about it, it is a very important part of the film, and the film's meaning. Yet much of this storyline takes place offscreen. We spend three short minutes in Otoh Gunga, and then never see it again. By the time we get back to Naboo, the Gungans have been driven out of their homes. We are supposed to feel empathy for them, yet how can we? We've seen very little of them, and none of their tradgedy. The film needed to take two minutes and show the battle droids invade the Gungan cities. A small thing, and certainly no more costly than the first Otoh Gunga sequence or two minutes of the Plains Battle, but able to add incalculable richness to the story.

The characterization of Anakin Skywalker is premiere among the confusing disappointments in the film. Lucas missed a bet here. We are told to believe that Anakin is special, he is wise beyond his years, he is a powerful Force-user. And to the film's great detriment, we are only told this. We are given no evidence of any quanitifiable gifts in Anakin. There is no hint of hidden dimension to this boy, and the film suffers badly from it. Luke, from snivelly farm boy to Jedi hero, was always somehow special... and he was only half Chosen One.

Furthermore, to my great irritation, we are told on several occasions that Anakin has tremendous Force-enhanced instincts, yet we never see him use them. As with the Gungan invasion, any Force connection he has, takes place off-screen, quantified for our heroes by a quick midichlorian count rather than any Force-sense or display of power. He pilots his pod racer much as Sebulba does; his reactions to flying debris or gun-toting Sandpeople never show any unique insight or prophecy. How are we supposed to really believe that this child is the Chosen One, is even a significant character in galactic events, without having seen the original trilogy, if Lucas refuses to show us? We're just supposed to take Qui-Gon at his word? We're supposed to bank on the fact that he may or may not have been a virgin birth? Or is Lucas telling this story assuming that we've seen the original trilogy, and therefore don't need any further development of Anakin? That is poor storytelling, to say the least. There is too much talk here, and not enough do. I'd like to believe Qui-Gon and Shmi. But I'd also like to see that Anakin is somehow important. And having him blow up the Trade Federation starship by accident isn't just grating, but is actually a betrayal of all the Campbellian mythology theory that Lucas claims to be shaping his story out of. As a Knight, Anakin's as clumsy as inept as Jar Jar. (Is the Force guiding him? Certainly not in the same way it guided Luke...)

The Anakin-Amidala relationship is similarly disappointing, which in turn does detriment to the character of the Queen. No, it does not yet have to be a love story, but there should be a strong bond, a bond which does, in the film, seem to have somehow formed... yet once again, we have not seen HOW! Once again, it is all off-screen. There is no uniting factor between them, no little moments between them, nothing that would explain the sudden and strong bond between a 9-year-old and a 14-year-old. Some mention of Amidala's loneliness in her regal position would have helped immensely; it could have shown Anakin as the one person who treats her as a young person and cares for her as she is. Or, a look between Anakin and Amidala after he has totalled the droidekas in the Theed Hangar, signalling that he is doing it to protect his friend. Or, like in the first draft of the screenplay, having Anakin and Amidala together during the final battle, destroying the Trade Federation flagship, sharing a common experience and adventure like Luke and Leia did. But no, nothing like that here. And, of course, their little dialogue on the Queen's Starship is victim to what is absolutely the worst dialogue in all four films. One shudders to think of what Lucas will make of a romantic storyline in Episode II.

In fact, in both this case and the Anakin problem, the released version of Phantom seems to suffer from editing overkill; the screenplay contains several more bits of dialogue from Anakin and Amidala that both further invest Anakin's character as somebody unique, and establish a deeper connection between Anakin and the Queen. The absence of that dialogue rings hollow. I am afraid the explanation may simply be that when Jake Lloyd had to perform these things, he was not capable of rising beyond "ordinary 9-year-old," and Lucas was forced to cut them out. That is a pity. Anakin-Amidala can wait if it has to, but the treatment of Anakin's character is a major, major hole in the saga.

Other frustratingly non-developed elements of TPM include the whole virgin birth idea, which is viscerally shocking when you first hear it (I'd call it one of four points in the film where it literally blew my mind), is referenced once in a while after that, but never really plays out thematically or for story. The space battle, though the most visually exciting of the three in the saga, seems tossed off. Otoh Gunga, spectacular for the three minutes it's on screen, just disappears, and one wonders why exactly it was put there in the first place. There is no development of Jar Jar's character a la Threepio in the original trilogy; seeing him learning to be brave, rather than surviving the Naboo battle just by sheer dumb luck, would have been far more dramatic. And there is one significant plot hole in the film with regard to the intentions and actions of the Sith Lords: why does Sidious send Maul to Tatooine, if he wants the Queen to succesfully make it to Coruscant? How does Maul track the Queen's ship if no reply is sent to Bibble's message? Why does Sidious send Maul to Naboo? (Sidious seems to be trying to keep Maul busy!)

Despite all of these things, there is a significant possibility that it all may work out in the end. Lucas is nothing if not a very intelligent controller of narrative, and he exerted an unprecedented level of control on this narrative. It can be surely said that every thing that is in the final film is there because he wants it to be. I am reminded of the first book of The Lord of the Rings, which I found incomprehensibly boring the first time I read the book. It was only when I re-read it, knowing the outcome of the story, that I realized how meticulously Tolkien created that first book as the introduction phase of every narrative element he was going to play with for the rest of the saga. I suspect that in the light of a completed Episodes 2 and 3, we may look back at Episode 1, and all of these things that I have complained about will vanish like puffs of smoke, explained away by later developments we have not yet seen.

Being the introduction, as I have said, is never easy. Even if Lucas, and Star Wars, did not come through this process completely unscathed, what comes across in the final analysis is admirable enough, and a far sight better than every other Star Wars ripoff we have had to endure for the last sixteen summers. At the best of times, The Phantom Menace is truly remarkable.

Afterword - September 17th, 1999
McCallum and Lucas have been doing a bit more talking about Episode II and Star Wars in general, during the slew of European premieres over the last month. In any event, based on their comments, it seems clear that Anakin's portrayal in Episode I was absolutely intentional. He is supposed to be completely normal, with no hint of dimension. If this plays out for logical dramatic purposes in the next two prequels, then much of what I have written above will probably be forgiven.