In Praise of Revenge of the Sith, the Saddest and Sincerest Star Wars Movie

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Individuals who weren’t born or didn’t pay much attention during the initial release of George Lucas’s “Star Wars” prequels might find it challenging to understand the excitement and controversy surrounding these films. However, it’s unnecessary to delve too deeply into the specifics – I can’t remember where on the timeline of backlash and revival “The Phantom Menace” currently stands. By the time “Episode III: Revenge of the Sith” premiered in May 2005, opinions had become quite divided. Some fans felt that Lucas had lost touch with reality, while others, especially children captivated by this new trilogy, were eager to revisit his imaginative sci-fi world. This placed “Revenge of the Sith” (which is back in theaters this week to mark its 20th anniversary) in a unique position. Before its release, Lucas warned that the dark and intense ending to Anakin Skywalker’s tragic tale, the first “Star Wars” movie to receive a PG-13 rating, might be too mature for younger viewers. On the other hand, many older fans had already grown disillusioned with these films. Who was “Sith” intended for? I’m still unsure – though I personally enjoyed it when it first came out and continue to do so now.

It’s possible that Lucas may have been creating these prequels more for his personal satisfaction than for the audience, despite his claims that they were children’s movies. The original Star Wars trilogy was inspired by various elements of his childhood, such as Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers serials, westerns, World War II films, and samurai movies like Akira Kurosawa’s “The Hidden Fortress.” The prequels continued this theme by combining elements from biblical epics, cloak-and-dagger intrigue, and Ray Harryhausen-style monster action. Even the often criticized love story in the films can be seen as a nod to the romantic, dreamy style of Hollywood romance in the 1950s and ’60s.

Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith holds onto some nostalgic echoes, yet it seems like Lucas was trying to distance himself from his creation and delve deeper into its complexities. The initial Star Wars captivated the public in the 1970s with its straightforward good-versus-evil storyline, and its subsequent sequels solidified its grip on the cultural zeitgeist. By the 1980s, even President Reagan was using “the Evil Empire” to refer to the Soviet Union, and his missile defense system was known as “Star Wars.” This made for a simple understanding of the evil empire in Star Wars. It was a menacing, one-dimensional force: faceless stormtroopers, power-hungry generals, an imperial emperor who cackled, and of course, Darth Vader – a mysterious villain cloaked in darkness. However, his redemption lay ahead; what exactly was driving all this evil remained unanswered. So, by revisiting Star Wars, specifically the story of Anakin’s transformation into one of cinema’s most iconic villains, Lucas took on a significant challenge: to move beyond good and evil and delve into the very essence of this darkness.

In these new movies, there was a dilemma with maintaining tension, as the original trilogy thrived on sensation and shock (the revelation “Luke, I am your father” is still one of history’s most significant surprises). However, any excitement in these films would be dampened by the inevitability of the larger narrative’s tragic outcome. We were aware of the predicted twists and revelations. For instance, we knew that Senator Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) was secretly Darth Sidious, the Sith lord who would become the emperor. We were also aware that Anakin (Hayden Christensen) would be lured to the Dark Side of the Force; that his wife Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman) would die; that the Jedi order would be destroyed and Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) would be exiled. Lucas filmed these stories as if they were still unexpected, because for the characters, they indeed were, but we in the audience could see where it was all leading. I believe even children experiencing the story for the first time had a sense of its sad ending. The prequel trilogy is, and continues to be, an epic tale of despair.

In the latter part of Sith, it blooms in all its ghastly splendor. As we bear witness to the massacre of the Jedis, following Palpatine’s “Order 66” and the ensuing galaxy-wide bloodshed, it feels like a scene straight out of a mafia-style gangster movie. However, things take a turn for the worse as Anakin slaughters a group of young Jedi. The anticipation leading up to his final duel with Obi-Wan in the fiery mines of Mustafar is not about impressive swordplay or exhilarating Jedi stunts; instead, we’re waiting for the moment when Anakin will lose his limbs and be consumed by fire. Rather than offering the thrill of an action fantasy, the film delves into the somber reality of a grand tragedy.

In the Star Wars trilogy, Revenge of the Sith stands out as the darkest installment that mirrors the overall somber tone of the series. Previously, we’ve only caught glimpses of Anakin Skywalker’s ambition and growing anger and resentment. For instance, his brutal killing of the Sand People in Attack of the Clones after they had captured and tormented his mother showcased these traits. However, in this film, we witness these emotions in every scene – his anger towards the Jedi for denying him mastery, his struggle to contain his rage, his distrust of Padmé, his constant dread that harm will come to those he cares about. In Attack of the Clones, Hayden Christensen faced criticism for his stiff performance, but in this movie, he delivers a compelling portrayal of Anakin’s tormented character. Although his Anakin may not have been an ideal romantic lead or the action hero required in the earlier film, his portrayal of this anxious young man channeling Anakin’s prideful and volatile anger finally allows us to grasp Lucas’ vision for him.

A key point to notice is how Chancellor Palpatine capitalizes on Anakin’s feelings, particularly his resentment towards the Jedi and his fears about losing Padmé. He paints a picture of a life beyond the ordinary Jedi, a life filled with significance and purpose. To entice Anakin, he shares the tale of Darth Plagueis the Wise, an ancient Sith master who was said to have conquered death and saved his loved ones. This story resonates with Anakin, given his worries about Padmé’s potential demise during childbirth. In their discussions, we get a glimpse into Palpatine’s alleged rationales for his actions. He argues that understanding the grand mystery necessitates studying its various facets, not just the rigid, narrow perspective of the Jedi. If Anakin aspires to be a powerful and wise leader, he should embrace a broader view of the Force. Essentially, Palpatine is suggesting that the Jedi are keeping secrets from everyone; they’re hiding the truth and obstructing progress. He proposes a more comprehensive understanding of the Force, which supposedly allows one to protect those dearest while rising to power. This is a more authentic and impactful portrayal of evil than what the movies usually depict.

In creating his portrait of a civilization succumbing to tyranny, Lucas drew inspiration from historical events and mythical tales, such as those of Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler, and Stalin. Given that he was a product of the 1960s, it’s likely he also looked at the societal climate around him, especially considering America’s ongoing involvement in Vietnam and his desire to direct Apocalypse Now.

In the film Revenge of the Sith, some critics perceived it as a critique of the Bush administration’s aggressive foreign policy following 9/11. Lines within the movie that echoed real-world events, like “So this is how liberty dies – with thunderous applause,” delivered by Palpatine as he gained extraordinary powers to restore peace and prosperity to the galaxy, were particularly unsettling. While the prequel cycle started before George W. Bush’s election, its narrative of a society surrendering its freedoms in response to an external threat resonated eerily with real-world events.

The timing of Lucas’s release proved both serendipitous and disconcerting. Post the September 11 attacks in 2001, American viewers craved straightforward narratives of good versus evil. Unintentionally, Hollywood provided these with the release of several films. In the fall of that year, the first Lord of the Rings film premiered, as did the first Harry Potter movie. The first X-Men had been released the previous year, and Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man would follow in 2002. These successful movies were all part of a pop culture revolution that Lucas had initiated in the mid-1970s. Now, his work seemed to offer a depth and interaction missing from most blockbusters.

Perhaps that’s why the prequels seemed disorganized. They struggled to balance the lively, imaginative tales they aimed for, the advanced, commercially successful films they needed to be, and Lucas’s deeply personal aspirations for them. It felt like the director was trying to squeeze every bit of content into these movies, which weren’t typical franchise productions with numerous executives in charge. As a result, we could see the seams. However, this disorganization unexpectedly became the pictures’ hidden power and the reason behind their enduring appeal. This messiness is still evident in Revenge of the Sith, the saddest and most sincere of all the Star Wars movies, a product of a man desperately trying to comprehend his own creation.

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2025-04-25 21:54