Sadly, it has almost been a month since my last Star Wars: Deconstructed post. This fact is a testament, mostly, to a lamentable curse: “Work once stopped is rarely restarted.” Despite that, I bring you the next installment of Attack of the Clones: Deconstructed, in which I look at a surprisingly well written section of the film.
Star Wars Episode Two: Attack of the Clones (00:31:34-00:40:56)
Obi-Wan Kenobi, having just put Padme and Anakin on the bus to school, has finally begun the investigation into the plot to assassinate the Senator. He heads to an old fifties diner run by a gruff, four armed former prospector. I absolutely love this sequence. This scene shows that Kenobi has street smarts. Somewhere along the line he descended from the ivory tower of the Jedi Temple and rubbed elbows with the blue collar workers of the galaxy, striking up a friendship with Dex. Or he just found the diner one day while hunting for a quick bite, but either way, Kenobi obviously doesn’t have a problem hanging out with a diverse group of people. Indeed, this is even a shadow of Old Ben in the dusty Tatooine Cantina, a place one could easily see him frequenting during those long desert dry spells. Having been unable to identify the toxic dart he found in the dead body of Zam the Assassin (seen in a deleted scene), the first place Kenobi heads for information is the man who might know, and even if he doesn’t, he would know who to ask next. As it turns out, Dex recognizes the dart almost immediately.
Lucas manages to achieve quite a bit of exposition in this scene while having it feel like a genial meeting between old friends, and that is a mark of good writing. Exposition is a necessary evil in all dramatic pieces. Somewhere along the line the writer is forced to take a step back from the story and explain what is going on, or explain something about what is happening, or explain something that the characters already know, but that the audience doesn’t. However it happens, explaining usually takes place somewhere. The challenge is to not interrupt the story, break the fourth wall, and go: here’s what you need to know. Anyone who watches the NBC show Chuck already is well acquainted with bad, albeit straightforward, exposition. At the beginning of almost every episode the audience hears Chuck say “Hi, my name is Chuck and here are a few things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot” before a montage of “Previously on…” clips plays out. That is a very bare bones exposition; it presents the background for the episode that is about to begin. What happens in Dex’s Diner is much better exposition. Two friends share a drink, a few jokes, and information. The interaction is informal and completely realistic. This scene would have been much worse and more boring if it had taken place in the Jedi Library, which is where Kenobi goes next.
Having learned the name of the system where the toxic dart originated, Kamino, Obi-Wan heads back the library to do a little research. Very quickly he finds that there is no information in the Jedi archives, and calls for assistance. It is comforting to know that librarians are librarians everywhere, even in an alien galaxy far, far away. The Jedi librarian quickly dismisses Kamino as myth simply because it doesn’t appear on record. She haughtily proclaims “if an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist” in response to Obi-Wan’s confidence in Kamino’s existence (based on a reliable witness who had once been there) (00.34.35). I am still trying to decide if this supreme and laughable arrogance is meant to show the obvious decline of the Jedi or is an artifact of George Lucas’ misunderstanding the breadth of the universe. To give Lucas the benefit of the doubt, and also because the first seems much more likely, I hold to the former explanation. It seems the Jedi have grown so complacent and so over-confident in their abilities and “wisdom” that they actually believe (some of them, at least) that they possess all available knowledge. Of course, I still find this hard to believe because even in 1000 years of interstellar travel an entire universe could not have been explored, and therefore there would be many items in existence that don’t appear in the Jedi Archives. How the Jedi could think the opposite is quite beyond my capacity. The mere idea is lunacy. As Dex said moments earlier: “I should think that you Jedi would have more respect for the difference between knowledge and wisdom” (00:32:57). Clearly the distinction has become muddled. However, it seems that the omission of planetary data, at least on a system that people clearly know about and sometimes travel to, should be there, and the fact that it isn’t is noteworthy. Obi-Wan settles in to ponder recent revelations, and the perspective shifts to Anakin and Padme en route to Naboo.
Unfortunately, the scenes between Anakin and Padme are consistently where this film fails the hardest. Despite Anakin spending a great deal of time complaining already, Padme goads him into more. She puts a surprisingly negative spin on the Jedi life, focusing on the restrictions of the order instead of on its higher calling and humanitarian focus. She wonders: “it must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi: not being able to visit the places you like, or do the things you like…” (00.35.17). It would seem to me that being a Jedi actually allows one unprecedented ability to travel the galaxy much more than an ordinary citizen who may not be able to afford a seat on the next spaceliner headed for an exotic planet. Sure, Anakin might not choose his destination, but he certainly isn’t limited on them. Of course, Anakin doesn’t address any of that, he just jumps right into creepy-lover-boy mode.
I’ve said it before, but I really don’t understand the Jedi restriction on love. Apparently they are supposed to appear monkish, but monks (and nuns) give up on romantic entanglements to focus on their relationships to God. There is no god in the Star Wars universe, so I don’t know why romance is forbidden. It doesn’t make sense. In any case, Anakin jumps right to defining compassion as passion, mistaking a fondness for the well being of others for a fondness of Amidala. He is so twisted. I do not understand how Amidala is falling for this guy. As a do-gooder Senator, she should be all over real compassion, and not be enchanted by Anakin’s abuse of the concept for his own personal lusts. To be fair to Amidala, once Anakin mentions his dreams (about her) again, she does give him a long I’m-creeped-out look, so at least some part of her remains unsure about him. Cue awkward pause.
Meanwhile, back in the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan, who is convinced of Kamino’s location and existence, nevertheless seeks out Yoda’s take on the puzzle. Ostensibly he presents the dilemma as a simple problem, but I refuse to believe that Obi-Wan does not already know the answer to his own question. It is too painfully obvious. I buy that he is seeking confirmation of his belief, but not that he doesn’t believe. Yoda is busy teaching three year olds to handle lightsabers (I desperately hope that they are non-lethal) but still has time for Obi-Wan. Yoda also apparently knows the answer to Obi-Wan’s question, but asks his pupils if they have any ideas. I like this, even if the age of his students makes it a little amusing. When teaching, every moment is an opportunity to learn, and Yoda takes full advantage of that fact. Also, children are the closest thing to a free association engine there is, and are unbiased by adult assumptions about the world, so it is possible that they might have some random insight, however, I think that such insight would be more likely from kids a bit older than they appear to be. However, both youngling and Yoda give Kenobi the answer he already had. Yoda, like Obi-Wan, seems much more disturbed by the fact that the information is missing, not the nature of the missing information. Apparently only Jedi can erase information (proving once again to that snotty librarian that all knowledge does not reside within the Archives – for if deletion is possible, it occurs, even if only by accident). Yoda promises to ponder the erasure, while back on Naboo, Amidala and Anakin have arrived.
The current discussion between the fledgling love birds is much more natural than what they shared a moment ago. They catch up like old friends, talking about shared events from long in the past. Amidala then presents a report to the current Queen. Even if she is in hiding, she may as well make the most of the opportunity. Queen Jamilla, current leader of the Naboo, says “the day we stop believing in democracy is the day we lose it” in response to Amidala’s assessment of the current political crisis in the Republic (00.40.12). She is more right than she knows. My brother posted a bit about the economic and political breakdown in Greece which illustrates this rather starkly, especially when one remembers that it was Greek politicians who invented the idea of a republic in the first place. A loss of faith in the system leads directly to a dissolution of the system itself.
However, the talk naturally shifts towards the more immediate concern of Amidala’s safety. Sio Bibble, advisor to the Queen, asks Anakin’s opinion because Anakin is the Jedi, and the assigned bodyguard to the Senator. But, not one to be cut out of any discussion, Amidala jumps in to belittle Anakin and get the attention (I mentioned earlier that she does this quite a bit). “This is my home” she snarkily says. “I know it very well, that is why we are here” (00.40.39). That might be true, but she is stomping all over Anakin, especially when he was asked a direct question. This is nothing more than that annoying person who stands around at a party and answers every question they hear regardless of who asked whom. Anakin actually does the mature thing and just lets the argument go. I think Anakin is supposed to be showing his headstrong nature again, but he comes off as mature in this exchange while Amidala just sounds smarmy. Little unintended inversions like these are the definition of bad writing.
On that note, the scene ends.
(00:40:56)
a simple man 