Star Wars: The Phantom Menace Review (Part 1 of 7)
What I did with my afternoon: watch this 70-minute takedown of The Phantom Menace, compare it with Nick Davis's review (a startlingly solid B- if you can believe that), youtube other Star Wars documentaries, marvel in the brilliance of the original trilogy, and wish I could analyze movies and their making like the pros.
Normally I wouldn't share or recommend a video like the review above, because the creator deems it necessary to mix in a lot of tasteless and triggering "gags" that position the narrator as an abusive, misogynistic sociopath, which a) does nothing to help the ever-beleagured public image of people who like Star Wars/Sci-Fi* as socially-inept jerks, and b) is the most tired strategy for producing an easy chuckle outside of the Poop Joke.
But the fact that the review melds dramatic criticism of plot and character, meticulous cinematographic analysis, and careful research of the process and reception of the film with a shtick-y narrator and cheap editing tricks to produce a biting, compelling, and often genuinely funny attack on the film makes me willing to hold my feminist objections at bay for a hot second and tell you to watch the thing.
In combination with my recent [slightly manic, sorry] obsession with that Le Guin essay, I am wondering today how it is possible, in one lifetime to, consume and analyze art, create effective art, keep up meaningful relationships, and have any sort of impact toward improving the welfare of humanity (which one must feel compelled to do as the result of all the former pursuits, which reveal a flawed world of injustice and pain but usually some hope for redemption). I know this work/life/art balance conundrum is not a new thing, but it's taking on new relevance for me as I cast off the wonderful shackles of coupledom and still can't find time or brain-space for art, work, and friends.
[What does this have to do with the video? I guess that it is, in itself, an overt balancing act between the critique of art and the creation of art, produced by (I believe) a single artist, in which both the referent art and the critique-art attempt to complicate the high art/low art dichotomy by exploiting the peculiarities of their respective media, with varying degrees of success. Although, notably, the video artist is male, which may undermine the validity of this comparison to Le Guin. But I'm going to roll with it anyway.]
I think the answer to the balance question has something to do with the power of culture to change minds and circumstances, and the power of the individual the influence culture, but I am also wondering if it does not specifically have to do with science fiction -- that is, art (of whatever medium) that challenges the basic assumptions, environments, circumstances and ideologies by which we live. Art that is currently dismissively labeled as "genre" because it challenges the status quo in emotionally compelling, widely accessible ways.
Unfortunately, I suck at film analysis and have never thought up a half-plausible science fiction premise (let alone plot) in my life. But maybe those are two things I would like to work on. Even if the genre (sci-fi) and the medium (film) never become the vehicles for my own creative pursuits, I think there is a tremendous power in each (and both) which, if I could better understand, I could harness to make art that is more meaningful, accessible, thoughtful, revolutionary and joyful.
*See also: readers of comic books, players of video games, etc., with a heavy cross-over with bloggers, queers, new-agers, and anyone else who prefers art/recreation/communication/lifestyles that differ from and therefore challenge dominant culture, which has a vested interest in stigmatizing the above groups in order to maintain its dominance and the very hierarchical thought system which allows "dominance" to be accepted as the natural mode/consequence of relation between and among individuals, groups, ideas, and nature.
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