Thursday, January 5, 2017

Rogue One and the Lost Art of Self Sacrifice

Chirrut Îmwe (Donnie Yen). He is one with the Force and the Force is with him.
I gave a somewhat harsh review of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, which was deceiving, because I didn't hate it, and thought it had a lot to recommend it: just not character development or a coherent plot. Maybe it would be fairer to say that the plot is coherent, but only to people who've seen the original trilogy of films. Unless you're one of the fans being serviced, with all the visual shout outs to the earlier movies, you're going to have a really tough time figuring out what's going on and why. In Rogue One these very serious issues of not having characters that we can connect with and a plot that truly stands on it's own obscures an otherwise honest attempt to make a thoughtful, dare I say realistic, Star Wars movie. 



Obviously I mean realistic in a very broad sense. Rogue One is still a space fantasy at it's core, but it takes the franchise in a darker direction. While the minions of the Empire are pretty much space Nazis, we do see defectors and collaborators who try to sabotage Imperial efforts from within. On the the Rebel side we see much more ambiguity at work. Cassian Andor, a rebel spy, is shown killing allies when it's expedient and executing a disabled storm trooper, even though he poses no threat. Jyn Erso, the main protagonist of the story, spends most of the movie only reluctantly helping the cause, having seen the dark sides of the respective belligerents. Saw Gerrera, who took Jyn in after her father was pressed into the service of the Empire, is described as an "extremist" who the Rebel Alliance has distanced itself from, if not totally disowned. While the Rebel cause is still the clearly good one, we are given shadings that we haven't seen before. In this way Rogue One presents a war time scenario that is more in line with our own galaxy, as opposed to one from long ago and far, far away.

Another feature of the film's grittiness is that all the main heroes die in the line of duty. This move by the film makers has been somewhat polarizing. Mike Stoklasa, along with Jay Bauman and Rich Evens of "Red Letter Media," known for his detailed, profane and often hilarious "Mr. Plinkett" take downs of the Star Wars prequels, pointed to this, in their regular Half in the Bag videos. Stoklasa saw the hero body count as another reason why the movie is dower and depressing, going totally against the light hearted spirit of the series. On the other hand Alonzo Duralde of What the Flick? and The Wrap, applauded the decision. He has often expressed frustration that Hollywood films of late are reluctant to show heroes giving up their lives selflessly for a higher cause, and was pleased to see Rogue One buck that trend. I agree with Duralde, though I get where Stoklasa is coming from in the context of this particular film.

Like Duralde, I'm also frustrated by the trend to have victory without real sacrifice in contemporary American films. In one commentary I saw, about a different movie, he seemed to hint that actors themselves don't want to "die" in the movies for ego reasons. Duralde's on the inside more than I am (which is to say that I'm not at all), but I think there is another bigger reason for this trend away from characters making the ultimate sacrifice in contemporary cinema. 

Film, and really all art forms, both popular and high, of a particular generation reflects its metaphysics. How do we view the nature of reality? Do we believe that there is a spiritual dimension? Is there life after death, or is this it, and after we die we simply fall out of existence? Most movies don't address these questions directly, but they operate out of basic assumptions that are out there in the culture. I believe that a basic assumption today is that there is no other life than this one, and to lose it is the greatest tragedy imaginable. In a crime or war movie, let the bad guy die and fall into nothingness, sure, but if the hero dies it's a waste, and injustice.  It would be easy to blame "Godless" Hollywood for creating a trend, but I believe the general public, even those who are religious, function out of at least a quasi-nihilism where death is concerned, and it is reflected in the movies. 

I want to preface what I'm about to write by making it clear that in the real world there are atheists who will land on the grenade to save their buddies and faithful church goers who will hightail it for the door first in case of a fire, without looking back. But movies, except maybe for documentaries and biopics, deal in generalities and broad assumptions about human behavior. The audience was more likely to accept a hero dying fifty of sixty years ago because they believed in something greater beyond the grave. They also believed in something greater here and now. There was a marriage between certain ideals of patriotism, civic duty and family responsibilities and, faith in a spiritual realm that gave sense to a main character giving of his or her self completely for the good of group. Today institutions, be they governmental, civic and religious, are called into question. The image of family being promoted is increasingly not of our blood relations, but of people we choose to call family. Are we willing to sacrifice for marriage and family when we are having such a tough time agreeing on what these things actually are? Is a nation, corrupt from it's founding worth making the supreme sacrifice for? Do I die for a faith when we can't really know what truth is, and many of its practitioners are hypocrites? To sacrifice one's self has never been easy, but it's down right senseless in an age of skepticism.

In the case of Rogue One, self sacrifice makes sense, though I do think they could have let some of the team live. There is the belief in the Force, and while not all the characters have the same devotion to it, the series has already established it as something real. In A New Hope Obi-Wan Kenobi surrenders his physical life, and becomes a more powerful guide for Luke Skywalker. In later movies he actually makes appearances as a spectral figure, indicating that his existence goes on. Darth Vader, "repentant" at death is also shown to live on, appearing in the form of Anakan Skywalker. 

In Rogue One the character of Chirrut Îmwe, a marshal arts style warrior who is the person here most clearly devoted to the Force, keeps on saying, as a mantra, "I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me," He assures his friend as he goes into an impossible situation, "I fear nothing. All is as the Force wills it." Chirrut understands that he could die, but he also understands the if he cooperates with the Force his actions will save others and that his own life is more than "this crude matter," as Yoda put it once. If death does come his essential being will live on, and become more powerful than before. Not only does self sacrifice for the rebellion make sense here, but to not risk it all would have been the senseless thing. 

Yes, having our heroes die for the cause was refreshing. But understand that it only made sense because of a belief in a spiritual reality. As long as Hollywood, and the culture in general, wallows in materialism, I fear that Rogue One represents an aberration in this department, as opposed to a trend.


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An observation that has nothing to do with anything. I found it interesting that as the movie reached its climax, the special effects and sets became visibly more "low" tech, at least by 2017 standards. What I mean is that the graphics used to represent the Death Star plans, and the computer readouts of the transfer looked like something you'd have seen on an Atari video game or Commodore 64 computer from the late '70's or early '80's. As Vader boards the Princes' ship the the corridors become plain white and plastic looking (cheap wouldn't be an unfair assessment), a contrast to the more sophisticated sets of the Imperial base, as well as the special effects used throughout the movie. This was an obvious attempt to match up Rogue One with Episode IV: A New Hope, symbolizing that story wasn't so much ending as continuing, and this reversion to a more 1977 look was a visual cue for us. Again, nothing big, but I though that it was cool.   


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