Revisiting Star Wars

I spent the past three nights rewatching the original Star Wars trilogy.  My resurgence of interest, disregarding the fact that they are some of my favorite films, was sparked by my having learned recently that the original theatrical versions had received a DVD release a few years ago.  I have some memories of watching The Empire Strikes Back on my dad's old, tiny, black-and-white TV, so catching them on sometime in the mid-nineties may have been my first exposure to the series.  It was through the "Special Edition" VCR boxset, however, that I intimately acquainted myself with the trilogy, and those are still the versions most familiar to me.  Therefore, I was excited by this opportunity to watch the movies in their original unaltered state.

And goddamn, do these films look good.  Even thirty years on, in an age of CG, a lot of these practical effects hold up impressively.  Scenes in space look realistic--I mean, I won't lie, there are many points at which you can see the matte lines on the ships, but when the special effects work seamlessly, it looks better than the vast majority of current CG.  The sound design also grabbed my attention this time around, and I think the sound effects often compensate for any visual hiccups.

Also, since I am in my post-screenwriting-class mode and can no longer watch a film without a bit of ruthless analysis, I think I enjoyed all three films in new ways.  Each movie follows the 2-hour 3-act structure almost to the letter, which definitely works in their favor.  A lot of characters I never completely appreciated stood out to me too, and made these viewings quite fun.  R2-D2, for instance, is a fantastic character.  The fact that so much personality can ooze from a completely non-anthropomorphic machine which communicates only in unintelligible beeps and whistles is a massive feat.  Honestly, I am now convinced that robot is one of the best things to come out of the Star Wars universe.  C-3PO is bit more of a one-note comic relief character, but it's an important role, and it works because he plays so well off of the rest of the cast, and vice versa.  Han Solo also went up several notches in my book, possibly because he is that "asshole with a heart of gold" archetype that I love so well.  And Harrison Ford is just so fucking charming and smarmy and amusing and steals nearly every scene he is in.

It's funny that Return of the Jedi used to be my favorite of the trilogy, but now I am afraid that I agree with the consensus and find it to be the weakest of the three films.  I think it is largely the slow second act, which had always somewhat bothered me, but more so now.  I still find the first and third acts to be incredible, though, the third in particular.  The Empire Strikes Back is my current favorite, and I have a hell of a lot more admiration now for A New Hope, which used to be my least favorite.

Now, in regards to comparing the original theatrical versions to the touched-up versions...I would have to watch the revised versions again to really pin down the changes and comment on them.  Of course, that by itself shows that I think a lot of Lucas' revisions were graphical touch-ups, which I really can't fault him for.  Like I said, most of the effects look fantastic as is, and digitally removing visible matte cutouts, goofs, and other artifacts of the technology at the time only makes them that much shinier.  In regards to adding extra animals in the background, a CG sarlac, and slightly more additive additions, I think those are fine too.  Of course, you can run into the problem of the CG now not looking all that realistic, and perhaps anachronistic as well, but I would lump those kinds of things in with the matte lines of the original trilogy, i.e. noticeable, but not distracting.  Adding an entire musical number to Return of the Jedi might be a bit questionable, but part of the fun of Star Wars is that it allows itself to have moments of fun (the Cantina band, Yoda as a bonkers little hermit, etc.) in between the otherwise heavy storyline.  Also, the music that concluded the original Return of the Jedi is absolutely terrible compared to what replaced it, so that is definitely a good change.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, making Han shoot second is an example of Lucas derping hard.

I am pretty much the opposite of a purist, so I am not going to say that the original theatrical versions of these films are unequivocally superior films, or that Lucas went mad with CG power and ruined the series with his revisions.  I think he made some needed touch-ups, added/deleted some pretty trivial things, and went a bit overboard in other respects.  The debate that has surrounded the revised Star Wars trilogy brings up a good question of at what point, if at any point, does a creator lose license over his creation.  It's a really fascinating question, and I do not have a good answer for it.  I think the original Star Wars trilogy, however, is a strong enough force to stand apart from any wishes made by its creator or fanbase.

Utena, Mishima, and Sakamoto

First of all, fuck yes my favorite anime series is finally getting the US release it deserves.  It was announced sometime last year that Nozomi Entertainment had acquired the rights for the Japanese remasters of Revolutionary Girl Utena, and I quite restlessly have been anticipating an actual release date for the collection ever since.  Nozomi are apparently good at publishing niche titles like this too, and they spent a lot of time licensing bonus content, so I am ridiculously excited to get this collection in my hands.  I have been holding off rewatching the series (which desperately needs to be done) specifically for these DVDs.  Nozomi is dividing the episodes into three box sets, which kind of sucks because I am impatient, and because the Student Council arc is the slowest one, but I can hardly complain.  The fact that these DVD collections are going to be a reality is sweet, and I need more pink things in my bookcase anyway.

Yesterday, I finished my second Yukio Mishima novel, Spring Snow.  I think I am starting to get a grasp on him as an author, but there are still a lot of things which fly swiftly past me.  I believe Owen Pallett referred to him as both his favorite and least favorite author--favorite because he loved Mishima's writing, and least favorite because he hated Mishima's ideas.  I can kind of get that vibe.  His writing is often absolutely gorgeous.  Obviously, I am reading a translation, so I unfortunately have no concept of his Japanese prose, but the images he uses and the way in which he describes people and concepts are wonderful.  He makes a story about romance among Japan's elite in the early 20th century a lot more interesting than that description makes it sound.  He also seems to be doing a Faulknerian (holy shit, that's a word?) kind of thing, i.e. lots of Faulkner's characters long for the "glory" and "nobility" of the Old South, which never really existed in the first place.  There's a similar attitude towards Imperial Japan in this novel, although I suspect that, whereas Faulkner's point was that the Old South was a pretty crappy place, Mishima himself actually yearns for the old days sans irony.  But, I've got three more books in this Sea of Fertility tetralogy to familiarize myself better with Mishima, and I am totally enjoying myself so far.

Not giving away too much, but parts of the novel have striking similarities to Joyce's story "The Dead."  Perhaps not enough to write an essay about, but interesting nonetheless.

While I am on the subject of Japanese things I really like, I just found this song yesterday.  It is further proof of the seemingly endless talent of Ryuichi Sakamoto, and I love this woman's voice.

Japan

I have been watching/listening to Al Jazeera and NHK World in the background for the past two days.  Admittedly, I do not find their coverage so much different than what I would find on an American news network, but I like the opportunity to hear foreign perspectives and to realize the ways in which they may be both similar and contrasting with my own.  Also, on a superficial level, I like hearing the subtle hints of the newscasters' and reporters' accents behind their flawless English.

This footage of the tsunami is absolutely frightening.

It starts off relatively innocuously, but the way in which this escalates had my heart pounding when I first watched it.

'Tis the Season

Wow, it's Lent!

I am far from the world's most enthusiastic supporter of Catholicism, but it was a significant part of my rearing, and there are things I do like about it.  I am, for instance, totally down with fasting in any form.  I think there is a lot of value in the sequestering of one's will and wants to that of, if not necessarily a "higher power," something outside and beyond oneself.  It exercises humility and empowerment, and I know that I do not tend to appreciably appreciate things until they are no longer around to appreciate.  So I am going to be following that portion of Lent and imposing rules upon myself which I am to follow until Easter Sunday (April 24th).

If you know what I gave up my Senior year of high school, you know what I am attempting to do again.  I may stop being coy about it as the season progresses, but a boy has to have some secrets~

Also, no chocolate, because it makes those Cadbury eggs on Easter morning taste fucking divine.

I should probably make an effort to do something extra as well, but I have no ideas yet.

Sigur Rós Rocks (and subtlety sucks)

Another good thing about 127 Hours is it has spurred me to listen to Sigur Rós again for the first time in far too long an amount of time.  I like them for a lot of the same reasons I love World's End Girlfriend's Hurtbreak Wonderland, namely the post-rock style accentuated with modern classical sensibilities and orchestration.  Of course, whereas WEG has no vocalists, Sigur Rós has Jónsi's gorgeous voice, and whereas WEG only has Hurtbreak Wonderland, Sigur Rós has over a decade of material that invokes bright and melancholy mysticism.

Ágætis Byrjun is still the album I will play first if I want to listen to them, largely because it was my first exposure to a full album of theirs.  I can recall vividly loving "Svefn-g-englar" immediately, as well as the swelling of emotions that accompanied "Starálfur," particularly when I immediately recognized it from The Life Aquatic (which had been my first unknowing exposure to Sigur Rós).

Now, I don't know if I simply did not pay attention to it, but I was far too quick to dismiss Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust back in 2008.  It may have been because the sound was significantly different from Ágætis Byrjun, and there are a lot of subtler, quieter moments on it that would have been lost in a cursory listen.  Having revisited the album, though, I am hearing a lot of wonderful music and moments that I shamefully let slip away over two years ago.  

"Gobbledigook" is really fun and nicely differentiates itself from the majority of their material, while still never sounding like anything but Sigur Rós.  "Festival" has a great contrast between an ethereal first movement and a powerful post-rock crescendo of vox and rock instruments in the latter half.  It also benefits now from my mental association of it with the last moments of 127 Hours.  My unsurprising current favorite is "Ára bátur," which has a similar structure to that of "Festival," but it is largely piano-driven and chooses to approach its climax with a grand maximalist swelling of Jónsi, the band, a full orchestra, and a children's choir.  It is beautiful, and my entire body shivered upon hearing it in the dark last night.  Hear it for yourself:

Was it too much for you?  Again, I think it is gorgeous, but I have read a number of reviews and comments that cited this track in particular as guilty of near-comical excess, coming across as a self-parody.  I would highly doubt that the band intended it as humorous; everyone seems quite serious during the recording, so were they guilty of being too ambitious, too self-absorbed, too unrestrained?  Of course, a lack of restraint is necessary in order to construct a climax like that, but is that a bad thing?

I think academia has taught most of us who venture into criticism to revere the subtle.  There is good reason for it.  With writing, for instance, it is far easier to blurt out all of the defining traits of a character in a few paragraphs than it is to carefully and gradually reveal the inner workings and nuances of the same character within the subtext of an entire story.  The former approach comes across as amateurish, whereas the latter is more likely to create something which is interesting and compelling to read.  Unfortunately, this attitude also is likely to create a prejudice against the direct, and especially against the sincere.  Sincerity needs to be buried behind layers of text and metaphor and irony before it can be considered art.

I am guilty of this attitude too, don't worry.  I have been, and I am sure I will continue to be.

Where this ties into "Ára bátur" is my suspicion that most negative reactions to it likely come from a revulsion towards its uncompromising sincerity.  I agree; it is too sincere, and while there are certainly valid arguments for why that would be a bad thing, I like the song so much precisely due to this "flaw."  It is visceral, unrelenting, brutal, lovely, immediate in its seizure of my emotions.  Perhaps to an aloof observer, it is a cheesy piece of music, but to me, it is beautiful.

The biggest problem posed by this sort of heart-on-your-sleeve sincerity is the matter of differentiating the good from the bad, the master from the novice.  There seems to be a crucial step of cultivation, a sense of recognizable craft that is lost when there is an uncensored outpouring of thoughts and emotions.  The distinction between good and bad art becomes much more controversial, and I certainly have no insights towards resolving it.  I am fairly sure, however, that bad art is not so arresting in the soft darkness, and bad art does not make my heart leap and tighten as if held in the gossamer embrace of an estranged lover.