Natalie Portman Takes a Dark Turn in Black Swan

It’s Oscar readiness time again. I started off the year having seen just a few likely Oscar contenders from 2010. Over the weekend, I checked one more off my list with Black Swan, the unsettling tale of a hard-working ballerina who undergoes a twisted psychological journey after winning her dream role.

The film, written by Mark Heyman, Andres Heinz and John J. McLaughlin and directed by Darren Aronofsky, stars Natalie Portman as the delicate Nina Sayers. A sweet, naive perfectionist, she is ideal for the part of the White Swan in Swan Lake, but Thomas Leroy (Victor Cassel), the director of her dance troupe, has decided that he wants one girl to embody both the pure-hearted White Swan and the seductive Black Swan who stands between the protagonist and her happiness. Nina displays just enough spunk to convince him that she is capable of pulling it off, but the real challenge begins when the role is hers and she must find some way to move beyond her self-imposed barriers and find the darkness the role requires.

I’ve been hearing a lot of Oscar buzz over Portman’s performance, and it’s well-earned. Along with the incredible challenge of learning ballet for the part, Portman gives a mostly restrained performance that occasionally branches off in unexpected directions. Despite the physical challenges, Nina’s ordeal is mostly psychological as she battles with herself and several significant people in her life.

There are only four other major characters. Winona Ryder is haunting as Beth, the star ballerina who is forced into retirement, serving as a chilling reminder of the ephemeral nature of Nina’s success. Barbara Hershey gives a layered performance as Nina’s mother, whose close relationship with her daughter is not as tranquil as it initially appears. Cassel is superb as the fiery Thomas, who pushes his dancers to great heights but has a reputation for seducing his leading ladies. His methods are both effective and distasteful, and I found my opinion of him oscillating wildly throughout the movie.

Finally, Mila Kunis of That 70s Show brings an enigmatic quality to Lily, the young dancer who joins the troupe after Beth’s departure. She arrives with murky motivations, a symbolically loaded name and an unknown history. The screen sizzles whenever Kunis and Portman share it, whether Lily’s intentions appear helpful or harmful to the overwhelmed Nina.

This is a movie that earns its R rating. The profanity, while not pervasive and rarely used by Portman, is strong, and several scenes contain disturbing imagery. The film is by turns violent and sexually explicit, and its surrealistic quality makes it increasingly difficult to tell what is real and what is a result of Nina’s mangled perceptions as her preparations take their toll.

Black Swan is a dark exploration of the price of perfection – both in Nina’s rigid sense and Thomas’s ideal of “letting go”. Once was enough for me, but its craftsmanship and Portman’s performance are indeed Oscar-worthy.

Zach Braff Becomes the Only Living Boy in Jersey...

There are lots of reasons I watch certain movies. Some are probably more legitimate than others. For better or worse, though, one major motivation for me to see a film is prior knowledge that the soundtrack includes Simon and Garfunkel. When a movie slips in one of those songs unexpectedly, it elevates the whole experience, so when I'm given a little advance warning, I take advantage of it. I decide that this is not a movie to miss. And usually I am rewarded for my efforts.

Garden State owes a great debt to The Graduate, the most Simon and Garfunkel-heavy movie of them all. When I finally saw that classic about post-college malaise and discontent with a shallow upper middle-class lifestyle, I had years of hype to go on, and I came away disappointed. But several viewings later, I have come to appreciate much more what a remarkable movie it is. Such is the case with Garden State, a thematically similar film about floundering in one's mid-twenties. Having recently re-watched it, I've grown into a deeper respect for the movie - and Zach Braff, who wrote, directed and starred in it, all at the ripe old age of not-much-older-than-me.

He plays Andrew Largeman, a wannabe actor who wanders through life in a daze of over-medication, thanks to the intervention of his father (Ian Holm), who happens to be a doctor. Andrew's been away from home for ten years, having been sent off to school and never returned, but he's back for the funeral of his mother, whose paralysis years earlier was his fault, or so he has grown up believing. Awkwardly detached from everything that happens around him, he goes through the motions in dealing with relatives at the reception; his pathetic interaction with his aunt that results in the donning of a shirt that matches the wallpaper in the upstairs bathroom is reminiscent of Ben's chat with the "plastics" promoter in The Graduate. He's no more animated when he gets together with his old high school chums; while they party hearty, doped up on ecstasy, he sits on the couch and lets everything happen around him.

Then something changes. He meets Sam (Natalie Portman), a free-spirited girl who lives with her mother, an African student and a massive menagerie of pets. Sam is a compulsive liar, so Andrew's never sure of the veracity of any of her claims, and she's as uninhibited as he is perpetually uncomfortable, so theirs is not the most natural of pairings, but it's a fortuitous one, since she is able to remind him that life can be beautiful, even - maybe especially - in its least significant moments.

The lesson is cemented when the two join Andrew's friend Mark (Peter Sarsgaard) for a wild goose chase to some unknown destination with some mysterious purpose. None too happy initially about spending his last day in town ramming around on some strange errand, Andrew eventually finds inspiration in the trek - and realizes the depth of Mark's friendship, even as his days-old relationship with Sam blossoms.

The acting is solid all around, with a radiant Portman and Hoffman-esque Braff backed up by sardonic Sarsgaard, along with a trio of parents displaying varying degrees of dysfunction. The inclusion of a cast member from Lord of the Rings is another automatic movie elevator for me, so despite the brevity of Holm's role, I enjoy it. And Braff's taste in music is nothing to turn up your nose at, especially the stirring The Only Living Boy in New York, which comes at a rather surprising point in the movie, particularly considering that there actually is a scene in which Andrew prepares to catch a flight, leaving Sam all alone again in New Jersey. That would have been the obvious place to stick such a song, but in its new context, it takes on a different but no less thought-provoking connotation.

Back when Garden State came out, a co-worker of mine told me it was the best movie of the year. I don't know if I'd go that far. But I doff my hat to Braff and company for a job well done; he's welcome to swing by and give me a few pointers any time...

A Pretty Impressive Capper, But Vader Should Still Seek Revenge for Defamation of Character

“Star Wars is the defining event of our lives,” my dad remarked to my mom on our way home from seeing Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. “The first one came out just as we entered adulthood, and the last one just as our kids are entering adulthood.” It’s a formidable thought. Nearly 30 years for George to complete his legacy. Unless he still has the triple trilogy in mind… It’s strange, setting up a series in such a way that everyone knows how the story ends long before it begins. We all knew that this third installment leading directly into the epic that started it all would be by far the darkest of the six. It makes for a slightly surreal experience, knowing that everything has to go wrong, watching in revulsion but stopping just short of willing it not to happen because you know it’s required for the glorious events of the original trilogy. In the end it begs the question: Did we really need these prequels in the first place? I’m not a hard-core enough fan to answer that question. But I recognize this is the end of an era, and I celebrate it by making it my 600th review – one hundred for each movie if you like. No matter what, you have to admit George Lucas had a pretty impressive accomplishment.

So, how was it? Well, I missed the mayhem of opening night, though my brother and our exchange student got in on the fun. My parents and I saw it three days later. We still had to buy our tickets three hours in advance and wait in line for an hour after turning in our tickets in order to be assured decent seats. Aside from a few light sabers, ours was not a costumed audience. Only one man had the full regalia, a fellow who’d been there for the first showing (and maybe every night after) in his $2700 Darth Vader costume. I want one. Not really. I’d rather have a life-size R2-D2. Anyway, we were treated to a rather unusual occurrence that night. Just before the previews were about to start, the lights went up and a man, armed with the disclaimer that he had nothing to do with the movie, announced that he was attending with his girlfriend, who was very special to him, and he requested that she join him in front of the screen. Then he proceeded to get down on one knee and propose, and her affirmative answer was met with rapturous applause. Oddly enough, I think it was the loudest applause of the night…

Trouble is, Revenge of the Sith is rarely a movie that makes you cheer. It’s like a Shakespearean tragedy, with Anakin (Hayden Christiansen) in the spot occupied by Othello and MacBeth and other anti-heroes who leave the audience groaning and thinking again and again, You moron! Anakin is a decent guy at the start of the film, teaming up with master Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) to battle evil robots while rushing to the defense of indispensable little R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) when his mentor maligns him. His passion is his undoing, however. In spite of Yoda’s warnings to release himself from attachment to anything he fears to lose, he is increasingly driven by paranoia brought on by a series of disturbing dreams about his beloved secret bride Padme (Natalie Portman). Christiansen doesn’t bug me as much in this movie as he did in Attack of the Clones, but he’s still too moody and whiny to be very likable, or very impressive. I can put up with Luke’s petulance at the outset of A New Hope; at least he comes across as a sweet guy. I don’t know how I wanted Anakin to be, but I think I preferred having his origins ambiguous. Darth Vader is arguably the most formidable movie villain in cinematic history, and I find him cheapened by an inadequate history. And while we are supposed to believe that the intensity of his love for Padme is so great that he is willing to all but destroy the Jedi order to ensure her safety, they always seem wooden in their scenes together. It doesn’t help that they’re still hampered by the occasional excruciating dialogue. If my husband had just told me that he wanted to take over the galaxy, I’d like to think I could have come up with something more useful to say than “You’re breaking my heart.”

If Christiansen still lacks chemistry with Portman, he demonstrates it with McGregor. They kick off the film together with a dizzying action sequence at the conclusion of which a light-hearted conversation between Obi-Wan and Anakin reveals just a hint of jealousy that the padawan is outranking his teacher. Theirs is a relationship torn by the tension between affection and ambition. For the most part, we do get the sense Obi-Wan accepts the notion that he is training a Jedi who will become more powerful than him and resents the fact that other members of the council find Anakin less than trustworthy. Anakin, however, is less generous, always grumbling about Obi-Wan standing in the way of what he wants to do. It doesn’t take him long to abandon concern for his master. As Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) leads him further down the path of corruption, Obi-Wan looks more and more like the enemy. McGregor helms most of the film’s truly emotional scenes, most notably the culmination of their climactic battle in which an agonized Obi-Wan is forced to admit once and for all that he has lost his padawan forever. We see a great deal more from McGregor this time around, and I would classify him as a much better actor than Christiansen. It’s just a shame that one of the most beloved Star Wars characters was played by two different actors who’ve seemed almost resentful of the fact that they were involved. I suspect McGregor’s recent comments on his fans may have alienated a few people; I guess he has a hunch now how Sir Alec Guinness felt.

I found it very hard to feel sorry for Anakin throughout the film, even if his initial motivation was noble. It’s sad to see him manipulated by Palpatine, who is perhaps the true star of the film as McDiarmid takes him from benign presence who nonetheless seems to possess a slightly sinister air to fully disclosed evil emperor. But it seems good judgment should have tipped him off early on that Palpatine was up to no good. He recoils at Palpatine’s request to kill Count Dooku (Christopher Lee, who must be getting tired of playing second-tier villains with somewhat embarrassing death scenes) and refuses to acquiesce to his demand that – supposedly in the interests of time – they leave Obi-Wan behind. But apparently there are years of influence at work that we don’t see on screen. Palpatine is truly frightening for most of the film, evoking a moral crisis in Anakin, particularly when he announces his familiarity with the dark side and offers to pass on his knowledge. I found the altercation in the theater unsatisfactory on Christiansen’s end, or at least whoever wrote the dialogue. Palpatine’s fine, but Anakin again seems stiff and unconvincing. The scene sets us up for the moment that should demonstrate to him once and for all that this guy is extremely bad news but instead seems to eradicate any trace of a decent human being in young Skywalker. Perhaps he sees himself as party to such a calamity that he already deems himself irredeemable. All he supposedly cares about now is Padme, though once he begins to carry out Palpatine’s orders it can hardly be said that thoughts of her have any influence over his actions. The last indication in the film that she still means anything to him is so excruciating, one wonders how James Earl Jones could have been convinced to decimate his dignity by agreeing to it.

Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson) embodies the struggle for the Jedi to remain relevant in a time of great change. He is a formidable force, rather like the man who plays him. I find it amusing that he talked Lucas into giving him a purple light saber so he’d stand out and that he actually included a stipulation in his contract that his character had to have a noteworthy death scene. Visually, it’s pretty riveting. Emotionally, it’s the turning point of the whole film. Yoda (Frank Oz) spends much of the movie hobnobbing with the Wookiees, and while I was looking forward to this aspect of the film, it didn’t really satisfy me. For one thing, I imagined the planet as an idyllic locale, and it might have been if not for the fact that it was a war zone. The Wookiees almost looked like Klingons with all their ammo and war decorations, and when it came right down to it the whole interlude at their planet seemed to serve little purpose other than to get Yoda out of the line of fire for a while. Chewy (Peter Mayhew) shows up, but we don’t get any sense of his personality except that he’s on Yoda’s side. So that was a bit of a disappointment, but Yoda never fails to come through for me. He’s one of my three favorite characters in the trilogy, all of which conveniently appear in the prequels portrayed by the same actors. I still prefer the swamp-dwelling Yoda to the more dignified personage of the prequels, but he’s still the same delightful character, and he radiates wisdom and heart in a film whose protagonist stands in sore need of both.

The droids are my other favorites. There is precious little to be seen of C-3PO, though when he is on screen he certainly attracts attention with his ultra-shiny new frame. Generally he’s a great chatterbox, and I could have used more of his silly comments. I was also rather perplexed by his appearance just after Anakin departs to subvert the inevitable altercation between Palpatine and Mace Windu. It cuts to Padme, and C-3PO waddles up to her, and then it cuts to a completely different scene. Those five or ten seconds seemed completely superfluous, and I was left with the impression that a scene had been deleted and due to sloppy editing or a teaser for the DVD or whatever, they left the beginning of it intact. R2-D2 shines in Sith, however, particularly at the beginning. He is as much a hero as Anakin or Obi-Wan in the opening minutes, and he handles his sticky situation with typical good humor. Most of the movie’s funniest moments involve him. When we bought our tickets, we received a complementary copy of Flick, a Cinemark magazine, and this issue focused entirely on Star Wars. One page advertises various available merchandise, including life-size cardboard stand-ups that come equipped with a chip allowing them to speak quotes from the movie. One of the figures is R2-D2, which begs the question, of what significant quote my favorite little garbage can-like being could boast. Still, he’s awfully expressive for a guy who speaks exclusively in a series of unintelligible squeaks, beeps and whistles, and you can never really accuse him of having a lame line.

So did Sith deliver all that I expected? I can’t say for sure, though a hunch still tells me no. Phantom Menace was a lot more fun, and I rather liked our feeling of jubilation as we exited the theater. It seemed the only appropriate reaction to the end of Sith was pensiveness. But it wasn’t any more depressing than I expected, and less violent than I thought it would be. It was visually stunning, though it lacked the beauty of Naboo as revealed in different forms in the first and second installments. The dizzying chases through space and sky threatened to give me vertigo, while Palpatine passed on the creepy crawlies every time he appeared on screen. Anakin, too, mainly in the horrific scenes following Mace Windu’s death that are as distressing for what they don’t show as what they do. The most tragic moment for me in the entire film was when a young Jedi, eyes wide with fear and trust, turned to Anakin for protection and received something entirely unexpected. In ten seconds, that young man packed an emotional whallop infinitely greater than what Jake Lloyd was able to accomplish in the course of an entire movie.

I won’t say that Sith impressed me as much as I thought it could have, but all in all it was a pretty affecting film and a mostly satisfactory link between Episodes I and II and the original trilogy. But I still think Darth Vader will never be quite as cool as he was before the prequels exposed Anakin as a character most undeserving of being the subject of a grandiose 6-part space epic.

Cold Mountain Displays Strength of Spirit in the Face of Cold-Heartedness

Although I had a great desire to see Cold Mountain when it arrived in theaters at the tail end of last year, I suspected that this was a film I would be better off seeing in the comfort of a living room with an eye-shielding pillow handy. I expected the Civil War epic to contain several long and bloody battle scenes that might even require me to leave the room. So I was pleased to discover when I watched it last week that epic battles weren’t something I would have to worry about. My pillow did not lie idle, however; the violence in this movie remains, but it comes out in staccatos, displaying the enmity to be found among those who were supposed to be on the same side of the conflict.

Nicole Kidman stars as Ada Monroe, the pampered daughter of a minister (Donald Sutherland) who moves from socialite Charleston to the backwoods Cold Mountain in hopes that the fresh air will do his ailing heart some good. They settle in comfortably for a brief time before the beginning of the war, and during this interval Ada makes the acquaintance of Inman (Jude Law), a gentle man of quiet intensity. Though they hardly know one another at the time of their separation, the thought of reuniting sustains them both through the myriad trials that follow.

When Ada’s father succumbs to a heart attack, she is left alone with a lush estate but no money or skills to sustain it. She is reminiscent of Shannon, her character in Far and Away, in her ineptitude when it comes to dealing with everyday tasks, but she is kinder and less fiery than Shannon was at the beginning of the film. She doesn’t want to be spoiled, she’s just never had the opportunity to learn anything that would come in handy during such a trying time. Her kindly neighbor Sally (Kathy Baker) realizes this and sends help in the form of Ruby (Renee Zellweger), a tough-talking tomboy with enough spirit to rouse Ada out of her debilitating depression. Tending the farm turns out to be the least of their worries, however, as vigilante Teague (Ray Winstone) and his cronies terrorize the townspeople in their search for deserters and their helpers.

Meanwhile, after receiving an injury in battle, Inman decides to head back to Cold Mountain, moving from one life-threatening situation to another. He takes up with a series of characters upon whom war has also taken a great toll: Reverend Veasey (Philip Seymour Hoffman), an adulterous pastor with far less integrity than Inman; Maddy (Eileen Atkins), an elderly woman who takes Inman in after discovering him badly hurt; and Sara (Natalie Portman), a fierce and lovely young widow who gives Inman shelter for the night and is rewarded with his aid when Yankees strike her home.

The film follows the two main characters’ parallel storylines. The first we hear of Ada is in a letter Inman receives from her just before battle. Her story backtracks to the moment of her arrival in Cold Mountain, and it takes a while to catch up. Once it does, though, she faces as much danger in the comfort of her own home as Inman does on the run. This film does show the cruelty of war, but on a more personal level. It shows ordinary people trying desperately to survive – men trying to find their way home in spite of the brutally enforced mandates against desertion, women trying to fill the men’s shoes in their absence as food grows scarce and villainy abounds. Time and again, cold-hearted individuals go out of their way to destroy the lives of the decent folks in the film, and more often than not the perpetrators are Confederates just like the victims. The violence in the movie is no less traumatic for its brevity, and perhaps even more shocking.

Kidman again shows her acting chops in this film and demonstrates that she works especially well in period pieces. Law, meanwhile, manages to pull off an incredibly powerful performance with hardly any words at all. His goodness and strength shine through his grimy surroundings, and when he does open his mouth to speak, the words are always worthwhile. I confess that I usually can’t stand Zellweger, but her spunky character is probably the most enjoyable in the film and certainly provides a great deal of needed levity. Baker brings a blend of motherly warmth and sorrow to her portrayal of Sally; Sutherland, in his brief time on the screen, is a benevolent presence bringing great insight into the character of Ada. Other notables include Charlie Hunnam as Bosie, the villainous young man who gleefully hunts down deserters and those sympathetic to them, and Brendan Gleeson as Stobrad Thewes, Ruby’s vagabond fiddle-playing father.

Speaking of fiddles, the film’s soundtrack is lovely, featuring a great deal of folk music and many Celtic-tinged melodies reflecting the beauty of the land and the sorrow of the situation. Cold Mountain is hardly an uplifting movie. In fact, I would call it quite depressing. But it does show the strength of the human spirit in the darkest of times, and the dedication of the cast makes it a film worth investing nearly three hours in.

Anakin and Amidala Are No Han and Leia

While I found some aspects of Phantom Menace to be rather disappointing, I still looked forward to the arrival of the second installment of the Star Wars prequel in theaters. The stirrings of foreboding occurred when I heard that the title would be Attack of the Clones - very B-movie-ish, if you ask me. As it turned out, the flaws I perceived in Phantom Menace melted away in comparison with its sequel. My brother tells me my feeble mind is incapable of grasping the intricacies of a plot he claims is easy to follow. Whatever the case may be, I had a hard time figuring out what was going on when I watched Attack of the Clones.

The bulk of the film concerns two separate plotlines. In one, Obi-Wan (Ewan McGregor) endeavors to discover the source of a poison dart used to kill now-Senator Amidala’s (Natalie Portman) would-be assassin. In the process, he learns of the existence of a clone army built for the use of the Republic, while the audience gets a bit of background on the mysterious Boba Fett. Meanwhile, Anakin (Hayden Christiansen) is left behind to protect Amidala, on whom he has had a crush since their meeting during the first film. Though Anakin is now nearly 20, Amidala still thinks of him as the child she last saw ten years earlier, while he yearns to be so much more. When she tells him, “Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tattooine,” it’s the last thing he wants to hear. Tied in with this is Chancellor Palpatine’s (Ian McDiarmid) gradual corruption and the threat of Count Dooku (Christopher Lee), a former Jedi and war-monger. Several other threads run throughout the movie, and when I finished watching the movie for the first time I wasn’t very clear on all that had happened. To be precise, my feelings could best be summed up by the words of C-3PO in one of the film’s few funny moments: “I’m so confused.”

McGregor continues to do a solid but ultimately rather boring job as Obi-Wan. Not his fault, they just don’t give him that much to work with. He does have a few good moments with Anakin, including a pretty impressive speeder chase through the multi-level streets of a Las Vegas-style city in Coruscant. Maybe part of the trouble is that these people are a part of an established order and they always seem to know what they’re doing. There’s not the high level of uncertainty and trial and error that Luke, Leia and Han had.

But as in Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan is still one of the strongest characters in the film. Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson) gets more screen time in here, which he deserves, while Jar Jar (Ahmed Best) gets less, much to the satisfaction of his legions of anti-fans. There’s far too little of the droids, but they shine in their on-screen moments, as does Yoda (Frank Oz), who is afforded the chance to display some humor and get into a memorable light saber duel.

It should have been interesting to see the origins of Boba Fett (Daniel Logan), but the film failed to make me care. Or perhaps I was just too distracted by what was going on with Anakin to be properly moved by that storyline, which does build to a traumatic finish. Palpatine seems increasingly sinister and Dooku is appropriately intimidating, but neither made a huge impression on me. In fact, what I recall most about Attack of the Clones has nothing to do with the clones at all, but rather concerns the budding romance between Amidala and Anakin. I find it odd that Darth Vader is probably the most formidable, memorable character in the original Star Wars trilogy, and yet in the prequel he always seems to be the weakest link. I’m beginning to wonder whether an actor can be faulted for failing to impress when forced to deliver such uninspiring lines. From where I’m standing, though, it looks like Jake Lloyd was a lousy kiddie Anakin and Christiansen is a lousy post-adolescent Anakin.

He glowers his way through the movie, his dialogue stilted throughout. “Now that I’m with you again,” Anakin tells Amidala, “I’m in agony.” So am I, listening to him talk. What’s worse, Amidala falls for him. She spends the first third of the movie remembering him fondly as the boy who helped her out of a jam, the middle being creeped out by his lewd and very un-Jedi-like glances, and the end declaring her undying love for him. Where did that come from? Their on-screen chemistry is next to nil, and their romantic arc is barely believable. It certainly pales in comparison to the gradual development of Han and Leia’s relationship, complete with impassioned insults and several life-threatening situations. It’s bad enough for Anakin to be utterly infatuated with her, but there’s no reasonable explanation for her declaration, “I truly, deeply love you.” They haven’t spent enough time together for that, and most of that time sweet little Ani’s been acting like a creep.

Attack of the Clones is visually impressive, but there are far fewer beautiful scenes and absurd creatures in this film. Those that do appear stand out, particularly Dex, a greasy but cuddly cafe owner with whom Obi-Wan shares a companionable scene. There’s also less humor. Second installments in trilogies tend to be very dark and depressing, and aside from that infamous carbonite scene, Attack of the Clones is much more of a downer than Empire Strikes Back. Actually, that’s not strictly true, since we care more about the characters in Empire; Attack is more “blah” than distressing. Still, it sets a necessary stage for the third film, which hopefully will be the best of the three, though it promises a great deal of death and disorder. My favorite moments in Attack all involved Yoda, C-3PO and R2-D2, so Chewbacca’s presence in Revenge of the Sith is a good sign. Let’s just hope they get Anakin some better writers…

Dialogue Menaces a Masterful Prequel

For many years, I devoutly avoided Star Wars due to the traumatizing effects of seeing Han Solo frozen in carbonite at too tender an age. Thankfully, by high school I was well over my discomfort with the trilogy, so I could appreciate the excitement of several of my classmates over the films’ re-release in the theaters. When I learned that the rumors of a prequel trilogy would begin to come to fruition just weeks before my high school graduation, I was aware this was a major cinematic event. At some point, during the massive fast-food tie-in campaign, flurry of merchandise and early reports that the film would be sold out for several weeks, I began to wonder if it might be a bit too major. I didn’t intend to go anywhere near a theater during the first couple weeks of Phantom Menace’s run, fearing for my life. So when Dad came home from work two hours before the first showing announcing there were still tickets available for the first night, I couldn’t believe it. We found ourselves in the midst of a super-charged crowd of people, many of whom were in costume, during the second showing of the film. I find it ironic that I got in on the first-day Phantom Menace geekfest but none of the Lord of the Rings equivalents, but it was a rather exhilarating experience.

Was the movie worthy of all the hype and the nearly two decades of waiting? Well… Not quite. Some of the magic of the first trilogy was just missing. The special effects were absolutely amazing but overwhelmed the movie. None of the characters were as fully realized or easy to care about as those in the original trilogy, and I particularly missed Han Solo, who had no corresponding character in Phantom Menace. Of the new characters, Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) is the one who impressed me most. Recalling Obi-Wan in A New Hope, he is kind and wise and exudes a calm Jedi aura. I was already a fan of Neeson before this film, and his performance here was one of the highlights of the movie. He seems a completely natural part of Lucas’ universe, and it’s a shame he could only be a part of one film. (Or could he? If Obi-Wan could come back as a ghost in two movies, why not Qui-Gon??) At any rate, he's a wonderful new character, and his lengthy light saber battle with Darth Maul is exciting and tragic. Also impressive is Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson), though we don’t see him much in this film. He also comes across as a natural Jedi. Yoda (Frank Oz), C-3PO (Anthony Edwards) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) all reappear and are predictably delightful, though even Yoda has been infected with the epidemic of over-seriousness.

Natalie Portman brings grace and warmth to the role of Queen Padme Amidala, a young woman with far more maturity and wisdom than Princess Leia possessed at the beginning of A New Hope. She also has more ornamental clothing; her ceremonial dresses and headgear are ridiculously ornate. In spite of her stiff ceremonial appearance, she is a fearless and compassionate leader, and her empathy allows her to form a bond with the young Anakin (Jake Lloyd) that will play a major role in their future. Not to pick on the little guy, but I would actually have to identify Jake as the weakest link in the chain here. I found him irritating, either too sullen or too cutesy. Whenever he was on the screen, I got more of an impression of him reading cue cards than actually doing any acting. His best scene was probably the pod race, a fast-paced little-guy triumph slightly reminiscent of the Herbie films, and the success of that scene had far more to do with special effects than acting.

Ewan McGregor is perfectly fine as Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t get to do all that much here. He speaks – and smiles – very little and spends most of his time simply shadowing Qui-Gon. And his Scottish accent is wasted in a role that requires him to sound like a young Sir Alec Guinness. But I really don’t have any legitimate complaints against Obi-Wan. And – don’t kill me – I don’t even consider Jar Jar Binks (Ahmed Best) a detriment to the film. Clearly, he’s there for comic relief, but the film could use some of that since its main characters tend to be overly serious. I usually found him funny, and my favorite moment in the entire film occurs when Qui-Gon grabs his tongue to prevent him from nabbing another piece of fruit and sternly admonishes, “Don’t do that again.” Jar Jar can be a little irritating sometimes, but not overly so. I love the whole Gungan culture, particularly their leader, and the underwater scenes are cinematographically the most impressive in the film. The climactic final battle is also a visual treat and recalls Return of the Jedi.

All sorts of bizarre creatures populate this film, making it even more visually appealing. The trouble is that while the visual aspects of the movie are meticulously crafted, the plot is less enticing than those in the original trilogy, and the dialogue is sometimes painful. Anikin particularly suffers from poor writing. His “yippees” sound completely out of place, as does his groaner of an exclamation of “This is tense!” Most of his dialogue sounds unnatural. Other characters suffer not so much from bad dialogue as a lack of good dialogue. The original trilogy was full of great lines. I’m not sure I could come up with half a dozen great quotes from the first two films.

Nonetheless, Phantom Menace does provide an intriguing look into the rest of Lucas’ big picture. It’s heartening that he actually did deliver the prequel trilogy he promised, even if it took him twenty years to do it. I’m thinking he’ll opt out of the triple trilogy idea, but it’s nice to get the beginning of the story. And besides, a third trilogy would require disturbing the harmony Return of the Jedi so gloriously restored. Does Phantom Menace stand up to the original trilogy? Not completely. But it’s still pretty nifty.