Shakespearean archetypes and themes are a significant part of what makes the Star Wars saga so compelling. However, these patterns are sometimes abandoned. This often leads to some of the least compelling parts of the story. Shakespearean archetypes are common to both of these because they are time tested narrative patterns that have been proven effective. When such patterns are abandoned, the story almost always becomes less thematically coherent.
The Star Wars Prequels are some of the biggest subjects of mockery that exist on the internet. They are continually made fun of and have been for a long time, yet, as a previous essay noted, they are completely saturated with Shakespearean themes. How can these movies follow so many Shakespearean patterns and yet still be regarded as so awful? It turns out that they have a few key flaws in execution that undermine the potentially massive effectiveness of the narrative.
The first of these is, of course, Jar Jar Binks. Jar Jar was intended to be the comic relief for the Prequel Trilogy, but ended up as one of the most unpopular fictional characters ever created. This is in part because the Prequel Trilogy is a tragedy. That is not to say that tragedies cannot have comical characters. On the contrary, they almost always do. Macbeth has the porter and Hamlet has the gravedigger. Both are clearly comical characters. However, they each maintain their plays' themes of condemnation and death in their humor. This keeps them from disrupting the structure of the plays. In contrast, Jar Jar has no theme. His comedic value consists of merely slapstick humor, which is extremely out of place in the Prequel Trilogy, and thus very jarring.
The other flaw in the Prequel Trilogy is the romance between Padmé and Anakin. Thematically, this romance fits extremely well, and makes the Trilogy much stronger. However, its execution is subpar. In Shakespeare, couples in private are almost always lively and clever, such as Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing or Romeo and Juliet. Much of his best wordplay and most intricate writing is between lovers. This is a way for him to show their love and compatibility. Anakin and Padmé have none of this. Their dialogue is almost painful to watch for two reasons. The first is that it is poorly written. "I don't like sand" may very well be the most ridiculed line ever written, and for good reason. It is completely out of place, and represents the quality of writing in Anakin and Padmé's entire romance. The second flaw in the romance is Hayden Christensen's acting. Anakin is a very emotionally torn character, and Christensen appears not to have the emotional range as an actor to properly fulfill the role. Undoubtedly, he did his best, but Anakin was a very demanding character.
These two flaws are the factors that undermined the Prequel Trilogy. Anakin and Padmé's romance hindered the narrative core of the story, while Jar Jar's thematically inappropriate comedy throws off the mood. Yet the narrative structure of the story remains sound. The Prequel Trilogy is essentially an excellent story told poorly.
One particular part of Star Wars has been conspicuous in this series only by its absence: the Sequel Trilogy. This is because the Sequels in large part disregard classical archetypes and even disrupt those of past films. Yet many people like them. If the Prequels were a great story told poorly, the Sequels are the reverse. The Sequels are a bad story told well.
One of the essential parts of a saga is that all of the stories make one coherent narrative together. The Star Wars films are cohesive both narratively and thematically, except for the Sequels. The Sequels not only fail to follow classical themes themselves, but upend many if not most of the archetypes of the previous films. In the other six films, Luke begins as a poor and hopeful farm boy and becomes a self sacrificing hero. Han starts as a careless overconfident smuggler and grows into a capable leader. Leia was a prickly, bickering prisoner who became a wise, thoughtful princess. Yoda was a guru of knowledge who experienced a great downfall before becoming a mentor. Anakin was the Chosen One who rose to fame, fell into darkness and tyranny, and then redeemed himself to bring peace. Palpatine was the evil tyrant who was ultimately defeated. Every one of these examples follows a classical character arc, and each of these arcs was overthrown in the Sequel Trilogy.
Palpatine was the representation of ultimate evil. His unstoppable rise to power showed that evil cannot always be prevented in advance. Sometimes it must be fought against after it has already taken hold. The Original Trilogy very intentionally showed that even the strongest forces of evil can be destroyed if only people dare to stand up and fight. The end of Return of the Jedi is the ultimate celebration of triumph over evil. Tyranny will never again oppress the galaxy. At least, until the First Order does. Not only does an evil foe arise, but The Rise of Skywalker shows us that it is still the exact same enemy as before: Palpatine. This sends the message that no matter how final the defeat of evil may seem, it can never be destroyed. It says that fighting against evil is useless because that exact same evil will always return to oppress. It invalidates the celebration on Endor of triumph over evil only to replace it with a fatalistic resignation.
Palpatine represented ultimate evil in the world at large. Anakin's fall and transformation into Darth Vader represented the evil within every individual. His fall showed how darkness takes over every one of us if left to our own devices. However, there was still the potential for good in him. His return to the Light side of the Force resulted in the defeat of the Emperor. This symbolizes the fact that great evil can always be thrown down when people, as individuals, return to truth and goodness. Once again, this message was destroyed when the First Order took over and Palpatine was shown to be alive once more.
Yoda, head of the Jedi Order, was the representation of the wisdom of the institution. He understood much, significantly more than any normal individual. However, he was somewhat blinded by his position and could not see his own downfall. The Jedi were overconfident in what they knew, and due to this they were destroyed. Yet Yoda survived and learned from the destruction of the Jedi Order. He took the great wisdom he had as the head of the Jedi and applied it as an individual and a mentor. This great wisdom, learned in the Jedi Order, was what shaped Luke's training as a Jedi and led to him turning Vader back to the light. However, The Last Jedi had Yoda burn the remnants of the Jedi, in effect claiming that the Order contained nothing of value. Yoda himself was the repository of the wisdom of the Jedi. This was what made him so valuable as a mentor. Instead the Sequels ignore this, declaring that the wisdom of the past is worthless.
Luke was a representation of every individual just like his father, but of their potential for heroism, not for evil. He began as a boy from the middle of nowhere, a nobody. In the end he becomes a Jedi, a hero. This transformation is not effortless or by chance. It comes about through careful mentoring by older and wiser men. As Yoda learned that he had placed too much faith in the institutions of the past, Luke learns of their remaining value. He has a vision for a new Jedi Order in a world without the Empire. He understands how beneficial such a revival of the old institution would be. Once again, the Sequels destroy this vision. "It's time for the Jedi to end," Luke says, but not the same Luke from the Original Trilogy. That Luke would never wish for the end of the Jedi Order. His character has been dramatically changed in the same way as Yoda's.
Han was always a highly competent person, but before A New Hope, he had no meaningful goals in life. Han's character arc was probably the most dramatic of the Original Trilogy apart from Darth Vader. He went from being a greedy smuggler to becoming a heroic general. To do so, he had to become a leader. He had to learn to swallow his considerable pride and listen to suggestions from others, even if those others were Ewoks. He learned to risk his own life for something meaningful. The selfish smuggler he was before would never believe who he became. The heroic general would never want to be who he formerly was. Yet The Force Awakens says that he did. Han goes back to his old life as an irresponsible smuggler. He runs away from his life and his responsibilities to his son, his wife, and the Resistance. Han was not a coward in the Original Trilogy. He did not run from his problems. He faced them with courage and ingenuity. He was an example of the fact that anyone, no matter how selfish and corrupt, could become someone who could do something meaningful, and that it was worthwhile to do so. The Sequels, however, made his meaningful accomplishments meaningless. They threw his impact out the window, and the integrity of his character followed.
The Sequel Trilogy methodically destroys the character arcs and legacies of each of the characters that return from the previous films. It not only damages the messages these characters are supposed to embody, but sometimes completely reverses them. In turn, it replaces them with main characters who have little to no character arcs at all. Finn starts as a Stormtrooper, and leaves the First Order in The Force Awakens, but then his role stagnates through the next two films. Poe learns to be less cocky in The Last Jedi, but that's about it. Rey begins as a nobody living on a desert planet and appears to return to being a nobody on a desert planet. Only Kylo Ren has any meaningful development, though his is fairly good. The Sequels destroy the legacies of the characters who came before and replace them with nothing.
In addition, the Sequels destroy the themes of the saga as a whole. The theme of the Prequels was that no one was incorruptible. Even those who seemed to be the greatest could fall into evil. The Original Trilogy countered this with a message of hope. The worst people can still have a spark of good inside them, and all it takes to defeat a great evil is for people to rise and oppose it. These messages form a perfect dichotomy, a fall and redemption story. Weddings are symbolic of resolution. The Star Wars saga was resolved when Han and Leia were finally united and when the people of the galaxy were reunited with their freedom. The Sequels disrupt this resolution to insert their own message, which is a concerning one. Yoda burns the remnants of the Jedi. The three main characters of the Original Trilogy abandon their values and then die. Rey buries a lightsaber in the sand. All of these things point to one theme: that the past has nothing of value to offer and that it should be ignored. Ignore the fall of the Republic and the destruction of the Empire. Ignore the fall of Anakin Skywalker and the redemption of Darth Vader. In Kylo Ren's words, "Let the past die. Kill it if you have to." When the message of a film is expressed chiefly by one of its villains, that is truly concerning. Why should the audience accept such a message? The Sequels upended the perfect dichotomy of the themes of the previous films to interject a wholly opposed and disappointing one, and twisted the arcs of all of its characters to do so.
Yet a large number of people like the Sequels. Why is this? The themes and archetypes of the films may be destructive, but most of the rest of them is very well done. The space battles and duels are eye-catching. The planets, creatures, and spaceships are all visually interesting. There is plenty of drama and tension. Even the acting is fairly good, which has not always been true of Star Wars. All of these factors combine to make a series of visually stunning films with dramatic effect to match. This is what makes a blockbuster movie. However, the flashy surface level serves only to hide archetypically terrible writing and intellectually lazy themes. It is just a shiny cover for bad films. The Sequel Trilogy is a terrible story told well.
There are two ways a film can go wrong, and Star Wars has had both. The Prequels failed to meet their potential because of poor execution. The Sequels did not have potential, and were saved only by their excellent execution. To fail at both results in something like the Star Wars Holiday Special. However, it is far more important to have an thematically deep story than to have good cinematic value. Even expressed poorly, archetypes hold deep meaning. Meaninglessness expressed with skill is still meaningless. It has no value. The Prequels will be remembered for a long time for their depth, though they will still be the butt of many jokes. The Sequels will only be remembered because of the great films that came before and gave them a pedestal to stand on. It is the themes and archetypes that give stories their value. Ignoring that fact can only produce fool's gold.
