Yesterday marked the 20th anniversary of the release of The Phantom Menace, a film that in many respects marked the beginning of our current moviemaking culture. The heavy use of CGI and its role in extending a beloved franchise were harbingers of the future. It's a film that made over a billion dollars, but is one that no sane person thinks is a great movie. It's best known today as fodder for jokes and derision.
It is safe to say that there is no film I have ever seen or ever will see that filled me with such anticipation. I was one of the Star Wars firekeeper fans. The original films dominated the pop culture Zeitgeist in the late 70s and early 80s, but were very quickly thought of as passe. When my sixth grade class had to choose an end of school year movie in the spring of 1988 I lobbied for Return of the Jedi, and my teacher was shocked. "You still want to watch that kid stuff?" he asked. (The chosen film was Monster Squad. History has vindicated me.)
I stayed true to Star Wars, recording the movies off of network TV and practically wearing out the tapes. I devoured Timothy Zahn's Heir to Empire when it came out in 1991 and read the Dark Horse comics. In those pre-Amazon days my best friend in high school managed to cajole the manager of the local Ben Franklin variety store to order models of the old Star Wars ships for him. He spent a summer doing an epic detailing job on the Millennium Falcon.When I was in college I delighted in getting the remastered versions of the trilogy on VHS (not knowing this would be the last time they'd be available in their original form.)
Seeing the special edition of Star Wars in the theater in 1997 was absolutely thrilling, even if I was underwhelmed by the new additions. That night in the theater the mood was positively joyous. I made sure to see it at the now sadly defunct Indian Hills Theater in Omaha, which had a giant 60 foot concave Cinerama screen. Star Wars had never looked so good.
Two years later, I could barely contain my excitement at seeing The Phantom Menace. Part of me wondered if I would be capable of viewing the movie in any kind of objective light. If it was shit would I ever recognize the fact? I saw it at a much less exalted location, a junky movie theater on the South Side of Chicago. At one point a derelict the row in front of me was passed out, snoring.
The film perplexed me. I liked the lightsaber battles and the pod race, but so much of it just seemed off, and the dialogue just flat. I also didn't buy this budding relationship between a kid and a teenage girl much more mature than him. Of course, nothing bugged me more than Jar Jar. The comic relief in the original trilogy was so natural, here it was forced and grating. However, I thought the film looked visually stunning, and I'd never really seen CGI used so well before.
I left that first night telling myself that it was still a new Star Wars flick, and hey "Isn't this supposed to be kids' stuff?" I went again, and then realized that the movie actually kinda sucked. Soon The Matrix and The Fellowship Of The Ring would blow George Lucas' vision out of the water and The Phantom Menace would just seem lame. I hoped for better from Attack of the Clones, but that film was arguably worse.
The second film completed the shift in mentality that the first had begun. I didn't get mad at George Lucas or anything like that. I realized simply that I had probably invested too much of myself in Star Wars. If they were going to make shitty Star Wars movies, maybe I just didn't need to care about it so much. I remain a big fan of Star Wars, but that fandom in no way is fundamental to my identity. I would like to thank The Phantom Menace for that.
Fan culture has become so rotten and toxic. Fans expect fan service in their movies, and for the artists who make the film to only do what the fans demand. This of course is a recipe for really boring entertainment. Even worse, fans talk about box office receipts like they are some kind of personal validation. "Avengers made the most money, so that means I'm the best!" What kind of messed-up perspective on the world is that?
By all accounts George Lucas is a good boss who gives very generously to fine causes. He also jealously guards his independence to a fault. When there was no one who could say no to him, he was allowed to indulge his worst tendencies, and the prequels were the result. While those films were a letdown, I wish the "fans" had gotten the right message. As much as you care about this stuff, ultimately you don't own it. Lucas has made that clear through his impounding of the original version of Episode IV. As much as I am dying to see it again, I'm also pleased that his recalcitrance is angering the fans (including myself) so much.
So today I would like to thank George Lucas for making a bad movie and giving me a little perspective.
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