I feel this blog should start with a lesser known movie, one that doesn’t get enough attention. So, I’m going to write about Star Wars.
There has been so much discussion on the Star Wars films’ effects on pop culture and the movie industry, the famous twists and iconic lines, pointless personal rankings of the films, the political, social, and sexual subtext, and the countless other ways that the movie can be dissected. But I don’t think there has been enough discussion of how Star Wars, the original 1977 classic, has a completely different emotional core than any of its sequels. This difference is one of spirituality, and it illuminates a key reason why Star Wars became so popular in the first place.
By the way, I am aware that the official title for that film is Star Wars – Episode IV: A New Hope. But that was a title that was tacked on well after the initial release, and I’ve never particularly liked it.
When analyzing what makes a film’s story work, the most important aspect is what’s at stake on an emotional level. That’s what gives the audience a reason to care about the story. Without an emotional investment, there’s not much reason for the story to exist.
This doesn’t have to be a moralistic judgement like what we see in classic fairy tales. It just needs to be a certain viewpoint on the world, or humanity, at large. It’s why great directors are said to have strong artistic visions. They have a distinct point of view they can convey through their art.
The plot is largely incidental, but the story is what gives us the emotional stakes. What is there to lose in a story? What is there to gain? I don’t mean specifics within the plot mechanics, such as the Death Star plans that R2-D2 carries. I mean in a big picture sort of way. For example, the movie Titanic is not really about the infamous demise of the ship that gives that movie its title. It’s about the love story between Jack and Rose, and the ship itself just provides the frame for the story. As corny as it seems, the emotional stakes are not whether these characters survive the Titanic disaster, but instead if their love will survive.
When they’re asked what makes Star Wars work, most fans and film aficionados point to the films’ clever reworking of classic mythology, how they take powerful archetypes of ancient storytelling and transplant those archetypes into a new and visually fresh setting.
Others will point to the strong dynamic of the three main characters, Luke, Leia, and Han. Fans of the so-called “original trilogy” see this trifecta of camaraderie and chemistry as the key ingredient.
Of course, an argument can be made that there is no one key ingredient. Perhaps these films, particularly the original three, were a perfect storm of creative talent that produced something special, something that can’t be replicated. There is certainly some truth to this, especially since the making of a film can be so chaotic that any coherent piece of entertainment is a minor miracle.
However, I don’t think enough people have considered the emotional stakes of Star Wars. My first instinct when considering these stakes was the question of whether Luke might turn to the dark side. But then I realized that Luke’s choice isn’t a factor until the sequels.
The emotional climax typically takes place at the end of a movie’s finale. After that point, the movie is virtually over because the story, not just the plot, has ended. In both The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, the finale concludes with Luke rejecting temptations towards the dark side. Both Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine try taking advantage of Luke’s weaknesses to turn them to the path of power, selfishness, and ultimately destruction. Luke rejects these offers primarily because he can see what the dark side did to his father.
But in the original Star Wars, Luke’s dark side inclinations are not even introduced. His arc in that movie is instead that of a wide-eyed innocent who learns that there is, in the words of Obi-Wan, a much larger world out there. And what’s the most important part of his lessons regarding this larger world? That none of it is random. He learns that there is something called the Force, a mystical energy field that combines and illuminates all living things, or even non-living things for that matter.
Interestingly, we don’t see much of the Force. For most of the film, all we see is Obi-Wan trick a few storm troopers with something that seems like hypnosis, a somewhat impressive moment when a blinded Luke blocks the laser shots of a floating ball, and a terrifying scene where Darth Vader uses the Force to almost choke a man to death. We never see any characters use the Force to move objects through the air or shoot lightning out of their hands.
On top of that, the only characters who believe in this New Age mumbo jumbo are a crusty old man who’s been living in the desert for at least 20 years and an evil guy who could be 90% robot for all we know.
The biggest skeptic of the Force is one of the most beloved characters of the franchise, Han Solo. He’s a realist who is jaded by what he’s experienced. I imagine that for people watching Star Wars in 1977, this is an understandable position to take. The United States had recently pulled out of the Vietnam War, arguably the most controversial one in American history. We weren’t used to losing wars, and we weren’t used to losing so many lives over motivations that history has shown to be, at best, questionable.
The country had also witnessed the first president to resign from office. There was increased crime, especially in cities. Trust in established institutions, including religious one, plummeted. According to Gallup polls, the number of people not affiliated with any religion increased from 1% to 7% between 1957 and 1977.[1] I have to believe there were plenty of people who would have sided with Han Solo in this debate.
The gritty and grimy setting of Star Wars, the now famous lived-in universe that George Lucas and his production team created, reflected this cynical state of the country and world at large. Even the famous Mos Eisley Cantina is essentially a dump of what Obi-Wan calls “the most wretched hive of scum and villainy.” The Millennium Falcon is described as “a piece of junk.”
That’s why the ending of the movie is so powerful. Obviously, an audience probably knows on a subconscious level that Luke is going to succeed. Storytelling conditioning dictates this. But we don’t know how it’s going to happen.
Like any good finale to a hero’s journey, the odds are stacked against the hero. Luke only has one chance to make an impossible shot. We’ve already seen another character attempt and fail to make the shot using a precise navigating computer. Luke is left completely alone. Hell, even trusty R2-D2 is temporarily put out of commission. And on top of all that, the most dangerous man in the universe has joined the battle and is gunning for Luke.
And just at the right moment, Luke hears the late Obi-Wan’s voice whisper, “Use the Force, Luke.” Luke ignores it at first but hears again, “Let go, Luke… Trust me.”
So Luke turns off the only device left to him, the navigating computer. He takes a leap of faith. And the audience knows it’s a leap of faith because there has been nothing in this movie to indicate that the Force can help Luke make this impossible shot.
Yes, Han Solo does end up helping. But even this is in service of an arc that supports the film’s themes, in this case, Han’s slow-building belief in a struggle that is bigger than himself. Besides, Han only eliminates the imminent danger of Darth Vader. The rest is still up to Luke. He ultimately succeeds in destroying the giant evil monster of the story, and he does so by letting go of his doubt and believing in the Force.
There’s a wonderful piece of audio that was released on the Internet a few years ago. Someone took an audio recorder into a movie theater back in 1977 and recorded the audience’s reaction to watching Star Wars for the first time. It’s a great glimpse of the shared joy people experienced seeing the movie.
When Luke makes that shot and blows up the Death Star, people cheered in that theater, as I’m sure they did in theaters around the country. They did so because everything in that movie built perfectly to that ending. It’s a perfect ending…except maybe for that part where they don’t give Chewbacca a medal.
There are many reasons Star Wars has had an impact on so many people, myself included. I’m not arguing against that. What I’m arguing is that the movie wouldn’t work if it didn’t have strong central themes that permeate the entire story. Ultimately, those themes involve spirituality. That spirituality may be a vague almagam of existing belief systems with sword-and-sorcery fantasy, but it’s spirituality nonetheless. And arguing for faith in the unknown was a bold move for a movie released in a very cynical time.
George Lucas has even spoken on this subject. “I put the Force into the movie in order to try to awaken a certain kind of spirituality in young people–more a belief in God than a belief in any particular religious system. I wanted to make it so that young people would begin to ask questions about the mystery. Not having enough interest in the mysteries of life to ask the question, ‘Is there a God or is there not a God?’–that is for me the worst thing that can happen. I think you should have an opinion about that. Or you should be saying, ‘I’m looking. I’m very curious about this, and I am going to continue to look until I can find an answer, and if I can’t find an answer, then I’ll die trying.’ I think it’s important to have a belief system and to have faith.”[2]
Citations
- Gallup, Inc. (2017). “Gallup Historical Trends – Religion”. 1948-2016. Gallup.
- Lucas, George; Moyers, Bill (April 18, 1999). “Of Myth And Men”. Time.
Cinema In Context 