Star Wars on Trial (60 page)

OUR HONOR, LADIES AND GENTLEBEINGS of the jury, my esteemed colleagues; thank you for your kind attention. We are here today to try a most complex case, one which on the surface appears simple, but most assuredly is not. The defendant stands accused of multiple plot holes, inconsistency and contradictions of internal logic; in his defense, I intend to take a somewhat controversial approach to the subject, one whose direction will not immediately be made clear. Please bear with me.

First of all, let us define our parameters. While I will cite evidence from the initial three films-hereby known as Episodes IV, V and VI-most of my arguments will focus on the most recent trilogy, hereby known as Episodes I, II and III. It is these three films which have borne the brunt of these accusations, and thus these three films which I will address.

Let us examine the evidence.

In Episode I-a.k.a. The Phantom Menace-an important element of the plot concerns a podrace, the outcome of which will determine whether or not the protagonists will be able to leave the planet. Our heroes are able to manipulate those with weak minds-but the mechanic who can fix their ship, unfortunately, is from a race immune to such "Jedi mind tricks."

Certain questions immediately spring to mind. Do they:

A) seek another mechanic?

B) find someone with a weaker mind and a working ship?

C) find someone willing to accept Republic currency, to which they have access to a whole bunch of?

Sadly, the answer is D) none of the above. They gamble their fate on the racing skills of a small boy, whom they just met.

Who has never won a race.

And his Podracer-which he built himself.

Still, it all works out in the end, so they must have known what they were doing. The boy turns out to have a strong connection to the Force, and seems to be subject of an ancient prophecy. Obviously he's an extremely important figure, one who must be rescued and trained and kept from harm. Qui-Gon Jinn, the Jedi Master, clearly understands this.

Then why does he decide to take the boy along on a highly dangerous military mission?

Perhaps he means to use the boy as a secret weapon of some sort? No. He abandons him in a hangar halfway through, telling him to stay put and stay out of trouble-something the boy most impressively fails to do. Jedi Knights may be able to wield lightsabers, manipulate the Force and do impressive backflips, but they have a lot to learn about baby-sitting.

Perhaps this was merely a slip. Qui-Gon is portrayed as a rebel who doesn't always do as he's told, and those types rarely excel at domestic duties. Tell them to blow up a star cruiser, they'll do fine-ask them to change a baby and you'll probably wind up with an upset infant, an unspeakable mess on the ceiling and the charred remains of a diaper pail.

Certainly they would never make the same mistake twice. For instance, having witnessed the consequences of jar jar Binks getting involved in anything more complicated than preparing a light snack, they would never give him any serious responsibilities.

Like, say, an important government position. Why, that could lead to a disaster of unmitigated proportions....

Which, of course, it does. In fact, it more or less plunges the Galaxy into an immense civil war which destroys the fabric of democratic civilization as they know it.

Hey, everybody makes mistakes. Unmitigated stupidity on the part of an individual character is not on trial here; we're taking a larger view. Sentient beings are unpredictable and tricky-one can never say with any certainty what they will or will not do. For instance, Anakin Skywalker claims to be tormented by nightmares of his mother. He was taken away from her, the only parent he has ever known, at a tender age-such separation anxiety is understandable. Why, I'm sure he visited her as often as he could the entire time he was in training....

What? He didn't? I guess the Jedi wouldn't let him travel off-planet-what's that? He was gallivanting all over the galaxy with ObiWan, on dozens of different missions? Surely he must have at least tried to contact her ... no? Not even once? I guess communication between planets isn't that easy ... oh, wait. They send instantaneous holograms to talk with each other all the time, don't they ...

I guess he just couldn't afford the long-distance charges.

Anyway, Anakin turns out to be a pretty nasty guy, so not phoning home for a decade isn't that implausible. This is Kid Vader we're talking about, not E.T.

And like I said before, sentient beings are unpredictable. Why, sometimes even the question of sentience itself is murky; look at how droids are treated in the Star Wars universe. On one hand, they're simply objects, to be used as cannon fodder in battle scenes without any messy blood-or, for that matter, consequences-to worry about; you can even have them dismembered or mind-wiped for comic effect. It doesn't matter, because they're not people.

Well, except that they have personalities, of course. They bicker, they worry, they make jokes. They strive, they take risks, they even simulate heroism. I suppose a clever machine can fool almost anyone ... but not a Jedi, of course. Obi-Wan states quite clearly in Episode III that droids can't think for themselves. Which means that treating them like they can actually make decisions is obviously absurd; anything that might appear to be a personality quirk-bravery, fussiness, fear-is either faulty programming or a trick of our perceptions. If we're searching for truly sentient beings, these droids aren't the ones we're looking for.

That's enough consideration of such unquantifiable areas as intelligence and motivation. Before we become mired down in concepts like "good" and "evil," let's examine something a great deal more solid: weapons.

I don't mean the neon swizzle-stick hedge trimmers the Jedi like to play around with; I'm talking about hardcore, continent-busting, spacefleet munitions here. I'm talking about armor, I'm talking about ships, I'm talking about lots and lots of guns.

We all know where the clone army came from. But where in the name ofJabba's left armpit did all their stuff come from? I mean, did the Republic just happen to have a huge honkin' space navy in mothballs somewhere?

What?

I apologize, Your Honor. Yes, I was getting carried away. It won't happen again.

Let's move on to an even more specific use-or rather, misuse-of weaponry. General Grievous, the leader of the droid army, unveils a rather unsettling surprise when confronted by Obi-Wan Kenobi; not only does he know how to use a lightsaber, he has four of them-and four cybernetic arms to wield them with. Since these arms are mechanical, they can do things human arms can't; spinning like windmills, for instance.

This should enable the General to cut Obi-Wan to pieces. ObiWan only has one blade, and can thus only parry strikes from one side at any given time. Even if the General is using two blades for defense, he can still simply attack from both sides at the same time.

Which he never does.

Maybe this is just a Jedi mind trick. Grievous isn't actually a robot; he's some kind of little beastie in a cybernetic suit, so presumably that sort of thing would work on him. Of course, you couldn't pull that sort of stunt on another Jedi; not only are Jedi well-versed in the ways of the Force, they're also the ultimate lightsaber fighters. In the thick of a deadly serious hand-to-hand battle, they routinely pull the kind of midair acrobatics that would get an Olympic gymnast an eleven from a Russian judge, so there is absolutely no way one could be fooled into misunderstanding what is or isn't a viable combat strategy.

Like whether or not standing a few feet up an embankment from your opponent-an opponent that you, yourself, personally trained to jump at least twenty feet in the air while doing a somersaultis going to give you any sort of practical advantage in a lightsaber duel.

Obviously, it isn't. He's just going to bound into the air like a big, angry kangaroo, flip around at the zenith-possibly getting in a few swings while he's up there-then land on his feet and continue to attack. Right?

It was a rhetorical question, Your Honor. Yes, I know that under those self-same conditions Obi-Wan managed to lop off both Anakin's legs and one of his arms in a single strike. Your model isn't programmed for irony, is it? ...

Up until now, all I've done is ask questions. I've made a few suggestions as to the answers, but nothing definitive-if anything, I've taken the position that the answers to certain questions aren't really important, or at least not as important as a good punch line. This is more than a cheesy ploy on my part; it is, in fact, my entire cheesy strategy.

I may have given some of you the impression that I believe Star Wars is full of gaping plot holes-holes, one might say, big enough to drive a starship through. While this is technically correct, it is not the thrust of my argument.

My argument is that it doesn't matter.

Ah, the collective gasp. Thank you; an attorney can go his entire career without ever hearing that magnificent sound. I can die happy now ... hmmm? No, Your Honor, that is not my immediate intention. Yes, I'll get back to my point.

I don't mean to imply that the flawed structure of Star Wars is irrelevant because the films themselves are of no importance. Far from it-far, far away, and long ago from it. Because I do think these films are important. They are woven into the fabric of our pop culture; they're part of our modern mythos. Many children grew up watching these films, and the images and ideas that flow through them have made permanent impressions.

Not on their intellect. On their imaginations.

And now I would like to call on Dr. Albert Einstein.

Thank you for coming, Dr. Einstein. The Court appreciates your cooperation, both in appearing in a pop-culture essay and in conveniently ignoring the fact of your own death. You've chosen to do this, I understand, for one simple reason. Would you please state that reason for the Court?

For those of you on the jury who found it hard to hear Dr. Einstein, I'll repeat what he just said: "Imagination is more important than intelligence."

I'd like to point out that Dr. Einstein is something of an expert witness on the subject of intelligence, being one of the acknowledged great minds of twentieth-century Earth. No, he never did crack that whole unified field theory thing we all take for granted, but there is no doubt he was-sorry, Dr. Einstein, is-a genius. One who believes that the ability to make things up is more important than the cognitive powers of the weightiest intellect.