Star Wars: Dystopia or Tragedy? (And is there a difference?)

Wow, long title.
Daddy and I went to see Star Wars tonight. We did this for several reasons:
1) We always go to major sci fi movies together as bonding time
2) I promised him 2 years ago that I would be in Ohio to see the final Star Wars with him
3) Anakin Skywalker is hot, Vader or not.

(Dad is exempt from number 3)

But as per usual, he and I did not sit there like the dummy kids next to us (two boys aged 17ish, major idiots, and not in the good Red Sox idiot way), but instead spent the 20 minutes prior to the film in our bad seats discusing the possibilities of the film. As with Kari, I jokingly asked him, "So, do you think he'll choose the Dark Side or the Light Side?"

As Kari did, he paused and looked at me as though I were the stupid kid next to me, who had by this point, scooted down so far in his seat that I was a head taller than him, and he spread his legs so wide that he looked like he had been riding an elephant for three days. I considered asking the kid if he would mind getting out of my personal space (or if I could perhaps drape my leg over his), but instead interrupted my father's insult-to-be by saying: "I know. I'm trying to make a point."

Who is the hero?
This question remains unanswered for me. Daddy and I attempted several guesses (including Yoda), but could not answer this until we decided whether to take the film as episodic or serial.

The genre of the film makes it difficult to determine the hero. Episode II and part of Episdoe III certainly contain "dystopian energies." A sense of impending doom, complicated government over throwing, rebellions, blah blah blah. It's the hero question that bothers me almost more than the chronology.

If I call Star Wars Episdoes I-VI "dystopian," then I am designating a special form of tragedy, a special postmodern form of tragedy that questions destiny and the ability of individuals to move against greater Forces (yes, I know). And if I designate it a dystopia, then there are requirements for the hero (according to me).

Luke Skywalker seems to fit these requirements fairly well. Taken as a single unit, the first (second?) trilogy Lucas released, episdoes IV-VI easily comprise the dystopian genre I initially outlined in my honors project. But what do we do with the second (first?) trilogy?

In dystopias, the "back story" of how the dystopian state arrived is often told in flashback, through a character I called the "Enlightener." Usually, the enlightener is the "magical helper." Sometimes, the enlightener is the leader of the State. When Obi Wan fills Luke in on The Force, he is enlightening. When Darth Vader tells Luke, "I am your father," he is enlightening. As a unit, the first released trilogy works as dystopian.

But now, now in a time of greater technological advancement, the back story is released as its own story and elevated to the status of explicit narrative. The completed sextilogy (is that even a word?) asks us to see it as a whole, or at least two halves which complement each other. We cannot read one without the other, not now.

And this second (first?) trilogy has those tingles of dystopian melancholy because of its chronological complexity. Is it first or second? Is it now or then? What does this say about destiny and possibility?

We cannot ignore that we knew Anakin Skywalker's fate from Episdoe I--that cute little kid was destined to kill millions. So why tell the back story? Lucas says it's just a story about a father and a son coming to know each other. But, as my father pointed out in less lit crit terms, even if this were Lucas's intent, the story has built into it other concerns. The confusion of the death drive and eros was particularly emphasized in this film. The "code" of the Jedi and the code of the samurai's of Japan's late feudal era (pre 1865). Power versus love.

And, to be American, the ability of an individual to overcome tyrany.

The constant mentions of democracy and "republic" remind us that this film was originally begun in Cold War American, and is finished in the midst of our bloody and equally ridiculous War on Terror (eek! Terror! Somebody go shoot the terror down!). The cultural changes (or not?) make me read the democracy/tryany opposition with a certain wince. Even as Dad leaned over to whisper "Hitler" at some points, I leaned over to whisper "Bush." I think we were both right. He certainly didn't argue with me when Anakin said "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy."

Star Wars will hit its 30th birthday in 2007. It is difficult for me to imagine a generation so engulfed in pop culture (like Dad's) and news and war and the effect that Star Wars had on their "ideological becoming" (Bakhtin's word). What about generations before them? After? What do you do when one of the defining narratives of a generation is dystopian?

Or, perhaps, simply tragic?

Tragedy itself allows more for a hero who is not just a goofy screw up (that's like Winston in 1984), but who has been deceived--someone good at heart, but twisted by some accidental, or coincidental happening. Think Oedipus here (and wow, could we make some massive comparisons). None of it was his fault.

But tragedies are individualistic in that the tragic events usually only "affect" the hero. We identify so soley with the hero that the deaths/plague/etc that emerge from his tragedy seem like side notes. In dystopias, it is the mass of people and their collectively tragic states that takes the stage. The tragedy in dystopias is already present. In tragedy, we watch it unfold.

Which makes me want to label this second (first?) trilogy a tragedy. Like all tragedies, the audience is aware of the destiny of the hero; we know he will fall. We watch it for the cultural lessons we can learn; like dystopias, tragedies are important because their hopelessness leads (hopefully) to action/attitude on the part of the audience. We see where the hero should have done something different, the one place where he could have changed his fate, and make notes to ourselves: Don't trust men in black cloaks.

I jest about the black cloaks, of course. I'm not sure exactly what the "representative anecdote" (K Burke) of this tragedy was. Calling it a tragedy does allow us to give the title of hero to Anakin/Darth Vader. Calling it a tragedy separates it from the "comedy" of the first(second) trilogy where the tiny, fuzzy Ewoks save the galaxy. American dystopias are comedies.

And if we separate them, what becomes of the series as a whole? If we were to watch all six episodes, how should we do it--Do we begin with I or IV? Do we end it as tragedy with episode III or comedy with episdoe VI? The choice here is important--now that we have both halves, indivuduals can choose how to read the epic. This is a performative. It is Act. Act is good.

I can't help but remember, however, how each episode begins. Star Wars, remember, does not happen in the future as most sci fi does, but in the past, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. There is never any immediacy for the American audience in the 21st century.

Then again, now that 1984 has come and gone, it, too, has less exigency.

I'm going around in circles. Despite the organized sounding title of this post, I really have no idea what I think about all of this. But I thought I'd write it down before I forgot the lines of argument that were being stubornly curvacious.

May the Force be with me...and you, whoever you are. (indeterminate audience makes for weird rhetorical situation--Bitzer)