Countries and legal systems that take the Rule of Law principle seriously have forbidden judges and juries from making judgments in all matters that could involve them personally. Luckily, movie reviewers aren’t burdened with such legislation. Otherwise, a small pool of very special movies would be forever ignored by this reviewer. In the case of Star Wars, the 1977 science fiction epic by George Lucas, the consequences would be even more severe, because that film is very special for tens of millions, if not hundreds of millions of fans. In any case, objectivity is something seldom seen in Star Wars reviews, because the undisputed majority of reviewers rate it as one of the best, if not the best film of all time. Those who don’t usually have some difficulty in hiding their artistic snobbery.
The author of this review must also concede his inability to use cold, objective standards in reviewing this film. Like so many previous reviewers, I must note that I watched Star Wars for the first time twenty years ago, and that I have remained enchanted by the experience ever since. Perhaps it was a childlike fascination with, until then unimaginable, wonders that happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Or perhaps it was the rush I felt minutes before the opening shots, with my expectations already pumped up by serialised comic books and the novelisation I had read beforehand. Anyway, watching Star Wars was one of the most important movie-going experiences of my life. And it was also unmatched for many years to come, because very few films managed to have such a strong impact on me as George Lucas’s epic.
Star Wars wasn’t just an important film for me (or the millions of fans who probably share the same sentiment). It was the defining moment in the history of modern cinema. Until then, the American motion picture industry was in a limbo; social turmoil in the 1960s practically destroyed the Old Hollywood, and new auteurs filled the void, mostly by using Hollywood’s financial and technical resources to create serious, “personal” or “artsy” films. As a result, the audience, traumatised by the dark reality of Vietnam and Watergate, didn’t want to see the same dark and serious content on the silver screen. George Lucas, with his science fiction epic, was among the first to come to the rescue. The audience responded with unprecedented enthusiasm, and the huge financial success of the film, later backed by a supplementary industry of toys, books, comics, role-playing games and other merchandise, slowly began to change the face of Hollywood. Serious, adult films with artistic ambitions faded into oblivion and were replaced by the industrial products of the “blockbuster” philosophy.
One of the biggest casualties of that trend was the science fiction film genre. Until 1977, science fiction films were mostly in the B-production domain. In the late 1960s, bigger budgets for science fiction didn’t look so strange anymore, thanks to the great success of 2001: A Space Odyssey. But that same success coincided with a surge of pessimism, and Hollywood science fiction was as bleak as the rest of its production – mostly dark, dystopian films. However, in 1977 Star Wars showed once and for all that this genre could be an inspiration for popular films, even among audiences that usually don’t like it. As a result, seriousness in cinematic science fiction began fading away, although some good, dark and cult-quality SF films continued to be made until the early 1980s. After that, science fiction continued to be considered a synonym for family entertainment.
Ironically, the man responsible for Star Wars was in his time considered a member of the “New Hollywood” generation of young film auteurs who made “artsy” and “personal” films in the early 1970s. George Lucas established himself with the dystopian SF film THX 1138, and the nostalgic drama American Graffiti. Both films were considered “personal” in their time, despite the latter becoming very popular. In a sense, Star Wars is also a very “personal” film, and the thorny path to the final production shows that commercial considerations were against it, not for it. But unlike many “personal” films of the era, its “personality” was in line with the wishes of the general audience.
The plot, set “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away”, begins in a time of civil war. The evil Empire is threatened by rebels who want to restore the old Republic. In order to quash any opposition, the Empire has built the Death Star, a superweapon powerful enough to destroy whole planets. The information about the Death Star, acquired by Rebel intelligence, is being transported by Princess Leia Organa (played by Carrie Fisher) when her ship gets intercepted by an Imperial cruiser. The Princess is arrested by the Imperial warlord Darth Vader (played by David Prowse and voiced by James Earl Jones), but the information is sent to the nearby desert planet of Tatooine via two humanoid robots – C-3PO (played by Anthony Daniels) and R2-D2 (played by Kenny Baker). These two robots are sold to the family of Luke Skywalker (played by Mark Hamill), a young, restless man who wants to leave his farm and become a space pilot. His adventure begins when R2-D2 escapes, because the information must reach the mysterious local hermit Obi-Wan Kenobi (played by Alec Guinness). The old man is actually the last surviving Jedi Knight, a member of an ancient order that defended the Republic through the use of the mystical Force. After some hesitation, Luke agrees to join Obi-Wan in his mission to save the Princess, while the old man would teach him the ways of the Force. Their small band comes to the colourful spaceport of Mos Eisley, where they hire the spaceship owned by rogue pilot Han Solo (played by Harrison Ford) and his furry sidekick Chewbacca (played by Peter Mayhew).
Critics who don’t like the film, especially those who can’t forgive Lucas for his contribution to the quashing of “New Hollywood”, are prone to point out the lack of originality. On the surface, they might be right; Lucas himself admits that he found a lot of inspiration in the lore of Old Hollywood – westerns, WWII aviation films, old SF cliffhanger serials of the 1930s and 1940s; yet the most obvious element would be Akira Kurosawa’s samurai classic The Hidden Fortress. On the other hand, those who have spent the last two decades studying the film to death would say that the inspiration for Star Wars went even further – into the collective subconscious of Western civilisation (hinted by some mild Tolkien references). Others would find the author’s element within the story – Star Wars could be seen as an anti-establishment film; young, long-haired, easy-going, nature-loving heroes are fighting against old, uptight and oppressive forces who use super-technology for the most demonic purposes.
Even outside its historical or social context, Star Wars is impressive as a strictly technical piece of the seventh art. George Lucas’s direction is very good, with clever editing and well-paced segments between action and dramatic buildup. Characters are well-drawn and deliver all the necessary ingredients, both for the space opera and the Hollywood blockbuster. We have a “coming-of-age” hero, a damsel-in-distress (somewhat toned down due to the popular feminist trends of the time), a reluctant helper, a benevolent mentor, a diabolical villain and, finally, comic relief in the form of two non-human characters. Some of the actors are very good – Alec Guinness in his most famous role to date, James Earl Jones whose voice is enough to cause unease, Peter Cushing as an incarnation of pure evil in human form. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the main leads – among the main trio of Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford, only the last one had a character three-dimensional enough to launch his further acting career.
The thing that looked like the most important segment of the Star Wars phenomenon during its initial release was the new level of special effects technology. Often comparisons with 2001: A Space Odyssey, another ground-breaking SF film, cited the sheer number of effects as proof of Lucas’s superiority over Kubrick. However, the special effects by John Dykstra and John Stears are indeed impressive, even after two decades (although the 1997 Special Edition did improve them significantly), yet they aren’t the most remembered trademark of the film. That honour should definitely go to the Oscar-winning soundtrack by John Williams, whose work on Star Wars is probably the brightest gem in his brilliant career.
Newer generations of viewers might be somewhat deprived of the enchantment that still holds those lucky enough to witness Star Wars’s original release. Yet, even if they are immune to George Lucas’s magic, they should watch this film nevertheless, perhaps only to become familiar with something that is an essential part of contemporary culture.
RATING: 9/10 (++++)
(Note: The text in its original form was posted in Usenet newsgroup rec.arts.movies.reviews on October 28th 1998)
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