What makes the prequels "different"?

You know what else makes the Prequels different? Aliens wearing really fancy clothes in really fancy situations. Jar Jar Binks in his Senate robes for example. The Neimodians with their fancy headdresses, etc. I don't know if this makes the Prequels different from other sci-fi/fantasy films, but it sets them apart from the Originals at least. In the Originals you have a lot of aliens in rough, Old West type of situations, nothing as high class as the situations in the Prequels.

Basically, it's the "total artwork" ambiance of the piece. Or what I've formerly termed DEC: Designs, Environments, Circumstances. Both esoterically and exoterically speaking. The sublime stillness and epic motion of it all. How all the pieces fit together -- and what delightful pieces they are! Yet with the whole remaining infinitely greater than the sum. It's as if there's a complete galaxy to drink in here. Because there is. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...." An entire island universe to monkey around within. No other film series can boast of so dense, so generous, so luxuriant, so radiant a quotient of things to experience. The quasar-powered "pièce de résistance" of fantasy cinema. Yet with everything remaining so particular, so specific, so local, so locked-in. There's a tight and fastidious language at work: a rich thematic calculus. You are getting a full expression: everything said, nothing left out. Or all passing through in time like air compressed and spat out the back of a podracer engine. A chariot race within the neoplatonic realm. Heavenly! Broadband transmission from regions unknown. A rival cosmos. A microcosm. Wormhole cinema. Elven bread. Deep roots. Akashic Records API. Sticking a finger up at the universe. Horror vacui. Retelling "The Tempest" via "Forbidden Planet", "Jurassic Park", and "Dinotopia". Tinned Shakespeare. Campbellian energy bar. An ode to a brisky morning munchen. "The Garden Of Earthly Delights". Marin County nature poem. Victorian futurism, Roaring Twenties jazz riffing. 1950s conservatism, 1960s beatnik radicalism. Ancient feudal Japan awash in Buddhism and samurai legends, modern consumer electronics Japan dominated by SONY and anime. Extremely rich influences. A confluence of textures. Ritual theatre. Worlds within worlds. The whole enchilada. Mystical tree cave. Apparitions of Vader. "You fought in the Clone Wars?" It's the Clone Wars, it's not the Clone Wars. Yin meeting yang and departing again. Pushing into danger from Byzantium shores. Passing through the Pillars of Creation after tackling the Pillars of Heracles. Laser gates and shield generators. A costume drama, a courtly bricolage. Padme of Naboo: the face that ignited a million midi-chlorians. DNA strands. Gene splicing. Digital tinkering. Jar Jar's Great Adventure.

All of the story elements hinge on irreconcilable dilemmas, conundrums and being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every decision and action the heroes make are understandable enough to sympathize with even if they're not justifiable, because we relate with the human frailties, and suspect we just might do the same thing in their situation - though hard to admit.
It's about morality manipulated in subtle ways, good intentions nudged in compromising directions, and self-fulfilling prophecies because that's what we do.
And though in some instances it might be easy to judge, a further look will reveal the contrary. Some very complex webs interwoven into this trilogy.

The OT has some of course, such as Luke choosing between saving his friends or completing his training, Lando protecting his citizens or helping his friends for example, but the PT is all dilemma. Layer up layer. (Which I was glad to see perpetuated in The Clone Wars series).

These films really require you to ponder. And often there's not an easy answer. We're left holding on to the tension of two or more completely different possible decisions simultaneously. Something not common in your average blockbuster.

That's a strong statement. But also a most interesting one.

Of course, it may be a good idea to check what is generally meant by "realistic".

The Free Dictionary furnishes us, in triple-combo Star Warsian style, with three sets of definitions:

www.thefreedictionary.com/realistic




Now...

It's a bit tough to categorise the PT using any of these terms -- they sort of fit and they sort of don't.

But then, it's equally difficult to define the PT along many vectors, especially when talking about the whole thing (hence this thread).

Yet let's throw caution to the wind here and say that the PT is remarkably realistic, or "objective", in its view of institutional failings, and in its presentation (albeit stylised) of humanity's faults and foibles. It has a pleasing candour in its approach -- especially, I think, in the way Anakin is depicted (in Episode II, in my opinion, most of all). Moreover, it feels suitably complex, as if it actually has a pulse, and a worldview. It's indeed rare, to echo Subtext Mining , that one finds anything like this in the realm of blockbuster art. Most high-concept films are content to focus on narrow situations (for all their orientation toward spectacle and grandeur; or mere grandiosity), and they often stick with pat perspectives and romanticised solutions. The PT dares to be both strong in its messages and yet palpably ambivalent as to almost every situation presented.

In short, in the PT, things happen; then more things happen; and even more things -- and this "chain of events" doesn't feel contrived, but somehow cognitive, causal: interconnected, weighty, and earned. A lot of films are pretty sloppy in this regard. They get in a hurry to make "points" or put a few set-pieces across, with some shaky "dramatic glue" holding up the rest of the enterprise. But in the PT, even with Lucas' jazz-riffing in evidence, one thing feels intimately bound to another. Or as Obi-Wan says: "What happens to one of you will affect the other." When you sense a careful plot architecture at work, you can rest more easily in your seat; and you want to return for repeat viewings and even look for conversation (as on this message board). Few films trigger that deeper desire long-term.

There's also something to be said here, I think, for that accretion of character detail and plot incidents forming a kind of gravitational pull or lensing effect -- or, indeed, generating an ambience that is both ephemeral and entertaining enough to buy into and even invest in in perpetuity. A lot of films get by by simultaneously making too much and too little of something. Lucas, on the other hand, finds that morally-aware, "Goldilocks" balance. The big events have the correct sense of scale and momentum. The smaller moments are placed and shaped and feed into the larger storyline as they need to. You sort of have this sense of fine calibration. No scene or moment feels redundant or wasted; and one piece is always inflecting a dozen others. If the prequels are ultimately a storehouse of minutiae, then what a fine storehouse they are! And what fascinating minutiae they store!

Who has packed more into a six (or, okay, seven-ish) hour runtime than George Lucas? This is fantasy cinema on GODMODE. Does anyone here doubt it? Crazy, gorgeous meanderings that all go somewhere! All whittled down from thousands of drawings and paintings, thousands of model designs, thousands of sets, hundreds (if not thousands) of costumes, thousands of conceptual and realised shots, thousands of individual visual effects pieces, thousands of man-hours from hundreds or thousands of people combined! Even thousands of casting choices for individual characters (they looked at over 3,000 kids for Anakin in Episode I). What an insane amount of pressure and effort being exerted for something like ten years solid. And one guy at the top of the pyramid orchestrating it all; so that it conformed to his sensibilities, his tastes, his vision.

Anyway, I highlighted that one term, "a realistic decoy", because it tantalised my eye as an alternative title to THE PHANTOM MENACE. All the Star Wars movies have alternative titles. As well, there's the idea of simulating real life. Are we like Nute? Are we a mucked-up TUNE that can't recognise any good in a decoy? Do we discard the potential right under our noses? Or can we admit that the PT has many layers; and to deny those layers is basically to encourage the PT to point a silver gun at us; because it has "read" us, like a barcode, very deeply? Has Lucas, in other words, created some kind of metaphysical machine that knows us better than we know ourselves? To quote Pyrogenic : Has Star Wars already said that ("that" being anything we may hope to say about it; or ourselves)?


Another triad! You're right that they would seem to prefer to forget that those elements were ever introduced into the Saga. And maybe cries of "bad acting" and "bad dialogue" are their rationalisation to cover up their discomfort with the former. I would say it's maybe a little more subtle than what you're saying, but you're probably in the ball park. I think part of the problem is that many fans kept projecting toward the future (the OT), instead of paying attention to the "here and now" (the PT): or process (PT) versus destination (OT). As Lucas has said, he had a story to tell, and he couldn't start with Anakin as a rampaging monster. He'd basically already told that story. The PT allowed him to chart entirely new territory. Or to quote L.P. Hartley: "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." (For an exegetical or in-universe analogy, look at what planet the PT starts on). 



Ferdy On Films is an excellent website -- or it was. It appears to be gone now. It had some of the most articulate film reviews I'd ever seen. I think he or she is right to imply that Star Wars only earned its conceits, good and proper, with the prequels. The Original Trilogy is, as Leia says of Han, "scruffy-looking". I'm talking metaphorically as much as actually. That's exactly what it needs to be. A good little action-adventure self-actualising space yarn. But the prequels bring a lot more to the table. They not only look more beautiful, but they are much more opulent and refined in their "inner workings". They have a more civilisational tone: a headier comportment. Lucas himself has said that you're just stuck in a dim corner of the universe in the OT, and that in the PT, he opened everything up and brought you to the galactic centre -- or the political centre, at any rate. Imagine living in the countryside your whole life and never seeing a big city. That's hardly bad, but Star Wars makes the point that Luke and Anakin could never find their bliss leading a humdrum existence on a space rock like Tatooine. A good metaphor for how we must be prepared to travel far and wide and not judge the first thing we see (e.g., Jar Jar). Lots of fans failed this most basic of Jedi Trials! D'oh!


They never really wanted to acknowledge that "wider world". They wanted Star Wars to remain a "Space Western" forever. An oversimplification, perhaps; but remember this video? It all but demanded a return to the familiar from Abrams/Disney:

I agree. Funnily enough, I just chanced on this, in the process of trying to find a George Lucas quote. I know this isn't the Disney section, but I think this person puts it plainly for many fans:


Of course, I don't agree that "the prequels were a great idea executed poorly", but that's a broad perception among many fans -- or at least the ones that often stand up to preach about the condition of Star Wars generally. 

To some people, Disney took a tried-and-true formula and did it well; while Lucas was significantly bolder, but couldn't land the execution. Yin and yang. What's also telling about that Reddit post, I think, is that fans tend to make their minds up two films into a trilogy. It works, it doesn't work. 


Nice descriptor at the end! What a strange set of perceptions these movies have had foisted on them. You're right: Lucas built in a lot of intrigue and weirdness from the start. Yet in a relatively (or perhaps deceptively) simple, straightforward, "three act" fantasy B-movie (but done as an A-movie) package. With TESB, it became more obvious that he was constructing a modern-day mythic series. There were now "episode" numbers (implying preceding chapters as you mentioned), a dark villain who was revealed to be the hero's father, a darker tone, and the possibility of a sad outcome for the good guys -- almost as if everything were a deliberate, moody inversion of the first film and blockbustering generally (e.g., the big battle in the first act instead of at the end).


It might be the biggest twist in the PT storyline -- although there are many contenders. After all, it's one thing to depict a tragic hero with relatable fears and ambitions that get the better of him, and another to show paragons of the light, noble ascetics who are the embodiment of self-mastery, losing their way and bringing fascism to the galaxy far and wide. AOTC has that "Oh, no! This is fucked up!" feel all over it in that regard. And yeah, you look back and see the obvious trajectory in retrospect. Life seems simpler when you're fixing things -- or looking back through the rear-view mirror.


Good thoughts. You're right that several directors turned Lucas down (Robert Zemeckis, Steven Spielberg, and Ron Howard -- according to Ron Howard in 2015). They knew Star Wars was his baby, and they were probably daunted at the prospect, and maybe were being polite and didn't want to compromise their friendship with Lucas by becoming his underling/employee (a reason that Irvin Kershner supposedly wasn't interested in directing another SW movie after TESB). So Lucas was left to embrace the inevitable: the prequels were his ward, his concern, and his canvas (or his podracer) to paint and tweak as he saw fit. With new digital technology available, there was little reason for him to hold back. He could do almost anything he wanted. This was his big chance. Carpe diem.


I think he gave some priority to children and could gauge their reactions, to some extent, through his own kids. Jett Lucas, his only son, was very young at the time: the perfect target age. While his daughters gave feedback and made clear to him that Hayden was the best choice for Anakin in Episode II. Critics, though? Yeah, I don't think he's ever cared greatly for those. At least, not after the Original Trilogy was through (although the critical response there, despite Lucas later asserting otherwise, was generally positive, I think). On the other hand, laying down a challenge to fans was something I feel he set out to do. As he would later say, flipping the dramatic track of the Original Trilogy upside-down was something he enjoyed doing, and he knew the general arc of the prequels might alienate some people. As he said in 1999:


It's telling there that he says, "People think of the Star Wars movies as happy movies". I think it lends support to your argument that he was trying to subvert people's naive and almost-imprisoning delusions of Star Wars as mindless or uplifting escapism.

And yes, he would later recognise himself in Anakin turning to the Dark Side for more and more power -- as, in a way, that was what he turned into as a movie mogul and patriarchal head of a major corporation, when his original desire was supposedly to be free of outside interference, where he could make "little independent films" in relative peace. And through trying to gain that freedom, he lost first wife and a considerable chunk of his fortune, and even fell out with his mentor Francis Ford Coppola for a while. Success isn't an easy thing to live with. Maybe he was warning people not to strive too mightily or wind themselves into anxiety. Hence exhortations by the Jedi (and the Sith) to "Be mindful", or Padme telling Anakin after his first rant, "Don't try to grow up too fast." In addition, that is, to all the other stuff about letting go of attachments, fear leading to the Dark Side, being weary of big government, etc.

He even said before the OT was finished:


Once all the "happy" stuff in the OT was out of the way, it does seem that Lucas wanted to grow his saga sideways and make it more weighty and serious -- and, ultimately, more abstract and artistic. I always think of how Lucas uses colour in the PT.

The prequels would obviously take a lot of time to bring to life -- there was no way Lucas was just going to do a repeat of the OT. So something dark and subversive was going to happen as long as George Lucas was going to be behind it. You can really tell he was waiting to make Star Wars less like "American Graffiti" and more like "THX".

The depth of the prequels was there from the start; but in terms of tone, it was designed to sneak up on people. Toy sales were luckily guaranteed, I think, thanks to the hype of another trilogy and Lucas' tremendous imagination. Although, it must be noted, a lot of merchandise failed to move for Episode I, and a different marketing strategy (less intensive) was pursued for II and III. Even George Lucas has to face reality once in a while.

It was a special time. Although Mister Plinkett has probably destroyed half the toys: