The Magic of Movies - Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Part Two

I’m going to say it, and I’m gonna say it with a sense of comfort and ease: bringing back Obi-Wan as a Forcer Ghost is the most bullshit story move that has ever worked. Technically, it makes death totally meaningless, and indeed it undoes the whole thing about Luke having to try and make it on his own that is central to the Hero’s Journey. But damn if it doesn’t work for me. It’s pure mysticism, and the world being far stranger than we could ever imagine – one in which Luke’s longing for his mentor overtakes him (he literally reaches out for him). And, I mean, it gives Luke a specific goal to achieve. Although admittedly, it’s hard not to read Alec Guiness’s complete contempt for the project onto his stern face when we see him. 

I also like that Luke is the only person who ever refers to Obi-Wan as Ben – I don’t think even the fandom has ever called him that. It’s like Luke and he have a special relationship that even we as viewers don’t share.

Han saves Luke, and then his tauntaun dies; the visceral nature of cutting it open to save Luke is so great, appealing to the kid in all of us that thinks gross things are funny – fantastic delivery from Ford on “I thought they smelled bad… on the outside!”. The new ships – apparently called ‘snowspeeders’ are a pretty cool design (I had the toy as a kid). It’s another example of the franchise making something up when they don’t have to; it’s plausible that the Rebellion would have different ships for different circumstances. We also get the image of Luke in a tube in a diaper (as well as the scars from Mark Hamill’s motorcycle accident, which admittedly looks really cool on him for this).

The characters all come together to celebrate Luke’s recovery, and the dialogue of their repartee is pretty inane, though I love Han’s scandalised reaction to Chewie taking Leia’s side (“Laugh it up, fuzzball!”) and his smug attempt to humiliate Leia. This whole scene is a great demonstration of Ford’s ability to elevate the material – you certainly see Carrie Fisher try her best with the infamous word ‘nerfherder’. I worry now that I’m coming off superior to Star Wars, which I most definitely am not – any fan must admit, though, that the movies have weak dialogue.

Speaking of infamous, this ends with the infamous kiss between Leia and Luke, a definite example of how Lucas most definitely did not plan the movies that far ahead and indeed making it baffling that he even claimed otherwise. There’s something nerdy audiences in particular find delightful about the thought that all authors are planning ahead in intricate detail; perhaps projecting their delight at obsessing over details onto the people who provide them. Which is interesting when you consider the actual authors doing this, like Gene Wolf. Could you imagine a goofy adventure story with the structure of a Gene Wolf novel?

Also: always loved how smug Luke looked afterward.

Anyway, after this the plot kicks in, as the Rebels analyse the signals broadcast by spy droids, and Threepio, delightfully, has plot relevance. Come to think of it, these movies are really good at using their characters to push the story forward. Han and Chewie go to track down the droid; it’s really a utility scene, but it looks cool, especially with Chewie having snow all over his face. When they confirm what’s happening, the plot is now fully set in motion.

Now we get that beautiful, wonderful “Imperial March”. I’m given to understand – based on a Reddit thread I stumbled across – that part of its power is, like a Beatles song, having an ambiguous key – it wavers between sounding minor and major, apparently as a result of John Williams wanting to imply there was still good in Vader. The music nerds can break it down far better than I can. If I analyze the music as music, what I take is that the emotion is determined, focused, even disciplined until it suddenly explodes (very appropriate for Vader). What I take from this is how much music can act as commentary in film as much as guiding emotion, especially in a very pantomime film like this where having your emotions guided quite violently is the whole aesthetic point. 

Vader is introduced with a cool hero shot, hiding his ‘face’ for us before he turns to introduce himself. His men bicker about the possibility of the drone before Vader interrupts and takes control; notably, he trusts his intuition over any technical advice. This movie is where Vader really steps up as a Shadow to Luke – he always did rely on the Force (which stands in for intuition), and now we’re definitely going to see him as a full Antagonist. He is, after all, driving the action fully now. He has the same skills at Luke.

After dropping in with some Rebels, we go to Han and Chewie fixing their ship. I’m really noticing how good Peter Mayhew was as Chewie; I love his panicked little movements as sparks start flying, and when Luke comes out to say goodbye, his hug is very funny. We go back to Vader, who emerges out of that iconic egg thing he sleeps in. I notice James Earl Jones significantly dials down Vader’s rage in these scenes; there’s more sadness here, I suspect a result of Vader’s discovery that his son is alive. Of course, he also dismisses his own worker as clumsy and stupid before choking him to death (one of the great things about Andor was how it built a whole organization out of Vader’s, uh, leadership style).

(Clear contrast with Leia in the next scene, who is firm but straightforward)

I forgot how many purely practical scenes were in a row here, as characters prepare for the oncoming battle. I appreciate that they set very clear parameters for the mission; the Rebels have to protect their base, and specifically, the Empire will target their power generators, which seems logical. Luke and his co-pilot get in their snowspeeder; I enjoy the back-to-back design of the ship, even if the mere idea of it makes me carsick. 

The first shot of the Imperial Walkers is through those digital goggle things, which is a really great, simple way to make them feel real on top of making them ominous. They make absolutely no sense from a technical perspective; as I understand it, there’s no metal strong enough to hold something that big up, the programming for how they work would be complicated as hell, and, you know, some asshole could come tie the legs up and trip them. However, emotionally, they recall elephants crossing battlefields, like Hannibal crossing the Alps.