PANTONE 291

Posted 4th November 2015:

Astonishing revelation.  Having carefully pre-watched the prequels in preparation for the release of Star Wars Episode VII, it turns out the kids, by their own admission, don’t give a toss about Anakin Skywalker. Nor any of the other minuscule characters that scuttle against the gargantuan backdrops. Apart, that is, from Obi-Wan in Episode III. He’s cool.  

Lucas claims it's a generational thing. Mums and dads like the originals. Their kids prefer the prequels. That’s fine then. There’s nothing wrong with the films, it’s just us. But it turns out that the younglings simply don’t like the prequels as much as we liked the originals. Because I would have followed Luke to the end of the Galaxy. And back (especially if Han was along).

A few Sundays ago I immersed myself in the Sunday Times Culture Supplement, where Daniel Craig was trying to talk originally about what it’s like being James Bond.  Of course as an actor it’s the character’s vulnerability that’s of interest. Where he’s come from. What’s made him who he is.  And it’s that insight, the article claimed, that’s made Craig's rendition the most successful since Connery. Bollocks. The colour of his eyes probably has more to do with it (Pantone Reference 291 in case you're interested).  Craig may be aiming for the deep end, but the end result is more like that tepid antiseptic footbath you tiptoe through on the way into the pool.

What makes Skyfall great isn’t the lonely anachronism of a 1950s character trapped in the 21st century. Or the touching depiction of the tragic and indelible impact of orphanhood. No, it’s Javier Bardem being bloody scary. And… (let’s do a film review!) … it’s that horrible sense of inevitability - destiny if you will - that drives the whole thing forward. He’s going down, and he’s taking Bond with him. Because they’ve both had their day and, what is more, they know it. And so do we in a way, as we watch morbidly from the sideline as the two slide inexorably back towards their origin – the metaphorical womb of mother ‘M’. Where, fittingly in a chapel, Silva dies and James Bond is reborn. Or should we say, re-booted. Despite the trauma, we emerge from the cinema in an optimistic mood. Skyfall has done its job and renewed the franchise. James, the British Bulldog, is back on the job, with a brand new boss, secretary and sense of patriotic purpose.

And then Spectre. How could it all have fallen apart again so quickly? Spectre goes off the rails because, unlike Skyfall, it’s not looking where it’s going. It’s looking over its shoulder. Obsessing about its past. Like the helicopter in the pre-credit sequence – or, perhaps more aptly, a bulldog chasing its own tail - the Bond franchise suddenly feels like it’s spiralling out of control. There's no forward motion, just constant self-reference.  

It’s fitting that the train from Tangiers to Blofeld’s lair is empty, because let's face it, no one else is interested in going there. Sooner or later the Bond films will need to think of somewhere new to take us, somewhere so compelling that we’ll all change over to the forward-facing seats and begin to care again about where we’re going, not just where we’ve been.

So back to 1977 when a certain Mr Vader first stepped through the hatch of the captured rebel blockade runner into the collective nightmares of a generation of impressionable young cinema goers, including myself. Darth Vader, like so many facets of the Star Wars universe, was a product of superb design. He looked awesome. He sounded even better. We were captivated by his presence. His here and now. What he was doing, what he was going to do. As for his back-story, his motivation - who gave a toss? Strip away the layers and what were you left with? The Green Cross Man wearing a black shiny bucket on his heard (Pantone Reference ‘Black’).  

Darth Vader was interesting. Anakin Skywalker was not. Until the last ten minutes of Episode III he was just someone who would become Darth Vader. Enough to get him the odd book signing session or after dinner speaking engagement perhaps, but not to hold the interest of cinema audiences around the world for three entire movies. 

So what did Obi-Wan Kenobi have going for him? Simple. He was someone already. A kick-ass super-moth, compared with the grey twitching larvae of the future Sith super villain. Obi-Wan did stuff, heroic stuff, even had the odd witty line which gave us hope that there was intelligent life behind the script. But with Anakin it was always the same old excuse - ‘Okay, so he’s no great shakes at the moment. But think about how cool he’s going to be when he gets a designer makeover … 30 years ago.’ Could we really be bothered to hold out for something that had already happened before ‘Thatcher’ got its ‘ism’? I don’t think so.

Darth Vader’s inception at the end of the prequels serves only one purpose: to spoil the beginning of Episode IV for someone who’s never seen it. So whereas myself and my contemporaries promptly soiled our y-fronts when he first stepped through that hatch, they just murmur through a half yawn: “well how about that,” and ask themselves why, given the enormity of that galaxy far far away and the countless alien civilisations therein, there is still only one bad guy.

So, on the face of it, Mr Abrams, your task with Episode VII isn’t that difficult. Just give us something that fixes us in the here and now, not that makes us yearn for a future that is already, sadly, passed. Oh, and make sure we care.

@jesoverthinksit


More thoughts on Star Wars: Whose Star Wars?  Space Shoddity  Han Solo