Out of curiosity, I googled "Why is Star Wars so good?" It gave me a lot of would-be think pieces about if the next Star Wars will live up to its hype. I had to tweak my search, and eventually I found a couple of articles that listed stuff the writer liked about Star Wars as an explanation for why it's worthwhile. Frustrated, I finally landed on an article from 1983 that actually talks about the film as a film. It didn't expand too much for me, but it was nice to see someone had tried to articulate what Star Wars does successfully.
On a whim, I googled "Why is Game of Thrones so good?" and, within two hits, had found a thought-provoking, intriguing article that made a case for GoT's success that goes far beyond "sex and violence".
I don't really know what to make of this, since we've had decades to think about Star Wars and only six years to figure out GoT, but I think there's a momentum of fan ossification (mixed metaphor...sorry) that explains a lot of its permanence, beyond what the films actually accomplished. That leads me to suspect that there's an expectation of adoration and appreciation that is as much novelty as it is nostalgia. It could be that Star Wars is "good" because it was the first time a movie had captured its audience (visually, conceptually, and--apparently--religiously), and much of that audience was young. Older people may disagree with this, and I can't argue. I mean, if you were older when you saw the films and it still resonated with you, then, yeah...nostalgia isn't a factor. But the older fans now are those who were young then and the experience they had in the past is certainly coloring their appreciation.
I mean, look at what people are doing for The Force Awakens: Dressing up, waving plastic lightsabers at each other, giggling at the smallest little thing, smiling at the mere thought--they're behaving like children do at this time of year anyway. (For the record, there's nothing wrong with any of that. It's totally fine that people love something and want to behave this way. I think that it points toward a childish fascination and appropriation that we do, as a society, with very little ill to us. If nothing else, we ought to find more ways to feel childlike again. I'm not saying that this kind of nostalgic recreation is bad--I'm saying that it's part of the motivation behind the fandom.) And while that's wonderful that they care so much, I wonder if the adoration shown is proportional to the quality of the source material.
See, I'm a reluctant bandwagon jumper. I grew up watching Dragonball Z the only way that was available--going over to my friend's house who owned the VHS tapes of it. We didn't have cable and anime was so underground that you couldn't watch it any other way. I listened to third wave ska music, wearing it almost as a badge of honor that I didn't know hardly any mainstream bands (except Dave Matthews Band). I read science fiction books from the sixties and seventies that no one else had heard of (mostly the Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffery, still one of the most detailed and captivating fictional worlds I've ever encountered). In short, I dismissed a lot of popular stuff as being fadish and a flash in the pan, preferring to find my own tastes wherever possible.
Not only that, but whenever I decide to devote time to something, I don't simply enjoy the thing. I have to internalize it. I have to figure out what it is that attracts me to a franchise. Sometimes they're popular things that I come to late (Harry Potter), while other times they're criminally under-appreciated pieces of art (the band Rx Bandits). But I have to figure them out. When I start listening to a new band, if I don't try to learn one of the songs on the guitar, there's pretty much no chance I'll listen to them for more than a couple weeks. If I start reading a book that I really enjoy, I do research into seeing where the author got her idea, what her writing process is--sometimes I'll even look up who represents them as an agent or edits them. If I watch a TV show that I enjoy, I look up analyses online and other research.
And don't get me started on what I do for Shakespeare.
The point is, I figure out what attracts me to my various fandoms. Some of the time, it's because of a mutual interest between me and (usually) my wife. Batman is that way--I like Batman quite a lot, but I have thought about him more because my wife is such a Batfan. But Spider-Man? I could write a memoir on what the web-slinger meant to me in the first two and a half decades of my life. (I have, incidentally, done that very thing on this blog, but with Shakespeare.)
But other times, I realize where I'm connecting to a piece of fiction. And I freely admit that some of it is the same cocktail as Star Wars: novelty and nostalgia. The Resident Evil franchise is just that. I will, without batting an eye, admit that the RE series is a train wreck of half-cooked ideas, bizarre science-magic, and baffling continuity. And I love the crap out of it. I've owned every major entry into the franchise, including buying an old copy of Code: Veronica to play on my PlayStation 3 and purchasing Resident Evil: 0 for a GameCube that I wasn't even mine. When I was in middle school, Resident Evil 2 was new, fresh, terrifying, and captivating. I carry that original enthusiasm in such quantities that it doesn't matter what happens in the game (or, for that fact, movie), if it says "Resident Evil" on the box, I'm there.
So I totally get the slavish devotion to a fandom. That is not what baffles me about Star Wars. Because no one holds up the Resident Evil franchise and says, "This is the kind of thing that I will pass on to my children. This is the story that will define their childhood. I shall name my first born, be it male or female, Leon Claire-jill Redfield Dowdle." Why? Because, objectively, Resident Evil isn't that good. I mean, it has its high points. Resident Evil 2 is still heavy on atmosphere and a rustic charm, even though it didn't age well. Resident Evil 4--while a departure from the roots and, unarguably, what set the franchise on its current action-heavy, preposterous violence, testosterone-baked path--still balanced a new style with great atmosphere and scares. But no one is going to be claiming that the great cultural touchstone of an entire generation will be paying homage to Resident Evil. Because it's not good enough for that kind of influence.
Is Star Wars? Is it (to steal from MovieBob) really that good?
I don't know. I honestly don't. Who can judge it fairly, since there's so much that the franchise carries with it? I mentioned the ease with which I found a critical analysis on Game of Thrones. Not only was it a worthwhile read, it helped me consider what it is that draws us certain types of stories.
But, after some time online, I found one article about how Star Wars is overrated and a bunch of lists about how cool a Wookie's roar sounds, how much we owe Industrial Light and Magic for paving the way with practical effects, or how fantastic John Williams' music is (it is fantastic).
I'm not ignorant of the influences on George Lucas. As I said, when I start to like something, I put in a lot of time to learn a lot about it. I also do research on things that I don't like but others do, hoping to learn what resonates with other people. So of course I know about Joseph Campbell, monomythical impulses, the melange of religions that imbue the Star Wars universe with its unique texture, and the different ways that the universe has grown far beyond what Lucas ever dreamed would happen. I get that. But just because there are echoes of Taoism with a Christian descant doesn't mean the movies are good. Obviously people think that they are...but why?
Maybe I'm thinking too hard (a likely possibility), but the justifications for why people become engaged so heavily with this particular fandom eludes me. I like it just fine. It has some moments that are enjoyable, and it is definitely iconic. It has flaws, failures, and triumphs. But as a piece of fiction, is it any good? I can't decide, and I can't find anyone approaching it from an angle that makes sense.
Maybe someone can help a brother out?
On a whim, I googled "Why is Game of Thrones so good?" and, within two hits, had found a thought-provoking, intriguing article that made a case for GoT's success that goes far beyond "sex and violence".
I don't really know what to make of this, since we've had decades to think about Star Wars and only six years to figure out GoT, but I think there's a momentum of fan ossification (mixed metaphor...sorry) that explains a lot of its permanence, beyond what the films actually accomplished. That leads me to suspect that there's an expectation of adoration and appreciation that is as much novelty as it is nostalgia. It could be that Star Wars is "good" because it was the first time a movie had captured its audience (visually, conceptually, and--apparently--religiously), and much of that audience was young. Older people may disagree with this, and I can't argue. I mean, if you were older when you saw the films and it still resonated with you, then, yeah...nostalgia isn't a factor. But the older fans now are those who were young then and the experience they had in the past is certainly coloring their appreciation.
I mean, look at what people are doing for The Force Awakens: Dressing up, waving plastic lightsabers at each other, giggling at the smallest little thing, smiling at the mere thought--they're behaving like children do at this time of year anyway. (For the record, there's nothing wrong with any of that. It's totally fine that people love something and want to behave this way. I think that it points toward a childish fascination and appropriation that we do, as a society, with very little ill to us. If nothing else, we ought to find more ways to feel childlike again. I'm not saying that this kind of nostalgic recreation is bad--I'm saying that it's part of the motivation behind the fandom.) And while that's wonderful that they care so much, I wonder if the adoration shown is proportional to the quality of the source material.
See, I'm a reluctant bandwagon jumper. I grew up watching Dragonball Z the only way that was available--going over to my friend's house who owned the VHS tapes of it. We didn't have cable and anime was so underground that you couldn't watch it any other way. I listened to third wave ska music, wearing it almost as a badge of honor that I didn't know hardly any mainstream bands (except Dave Matthews Band). I read science fiction books from the sixties and seventies that no one else had heard of (mostly the Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffery, still one of the most detailed and captivating fictional worlds I've ever encountered). In short, I dismissed a lot of popular stuff as being fadish and a flash in the pan, preferring to find my own tastes wherever possible.
Not only that, but whenever I decide to devote time to something, I don't simply enjoy the thing. I have to internalize it. I have to figure out what it is that attracts me to a franchise. Sometimes they're popular things that I come to late (Harry Potter), while other times they're criminally under-appreciated pieces of art (the band Rx Bandits). But I have to figure them out. When I start listening to a new band, if I don't try to learn one of the songs on the guitar, there's pretty much no chance I'll listen to them for more than a couple weeks. If I start reading a book that I really enjoy, I do research into seeing where the author got her idea, what her writing process is--sometimes I'll even look up who represents them as an agent or edits them. If I watch a TV show that I enjoy, I look up analyses online and other research.
And don't get me started on what I do for Shakespeare.
The point is, I figure out what attracts me to my various fandoms. Some of the time, it's because of a mutual interest between me and (usually) my wife. Batman is that way--I like Batman quite a lot, but I have thought about him more because my wife is such a Batfan. But Spider-Man? I could write a memoir on what the web-slinger meant to me in the first two and a half decades of my life. (I have, incidentally, done that very thing on this blog, but with Shakespeare.)
But other times, I realize where I'm connecting to a piece of fiction. And I freely admit that some of it is the same cocktail as Star Wars: novelty and nostalgia. The Resident Evil franchise is just that. I will, without batting an eye, admit that the RE series is a train wreck of half-cooked ideas, bizarre science-magic, and baffling continuity. And I love the crap out of it. I've owned every major entry into the franchise, including buying an old copy of Code: Veronica to play on my PlayStation 3 and purchasing Resident Evil: 0 for a GameCube that I wasn't even mine. When I was in middle school, Resident Evil 2 was new, fresh, terrifying, and captivating. I carry that original enthusiasm in such quantities that it doesn't matter what happens in the game (or, for that fact, movie), if it says "Resident Evil" on the box, I'm there.
So I totally get the slavish devotion to a fandom. That is not what baffles me about Star Wars. Because no one holds up the Resident Evil franchise and says, "This is the kind of thing that I will pass on to my children. This is the story that will define their childhood. I shall name my first born, be it male or female, Leon Claire-jill Redfield Dowdle." Why? Because, objectively, Resident Evil isn't that good. I mean, it has its high points. Resident Evil 2 is still heavy on atmosphere and a rustic charm, even though it didn't age well. Resident Evil 4--while a departure from the roots and, unarguably, what set the franchise on its current action-heavy, preposterous violence, testosterone-baked path--still balanced a new style with great atmosphere and scares. But no one is going to be claiming that the great cultural touchstone of an entire generation will be paying homage to Resident Evil. Because it's not good enough for that kind of influence.
Is Star Wars? Is it (to steal from MovieBob) really that good?
I don't know. I honestly don't. Who can judge it fairly, since there's so much that the franchise carries with it? I mentioned the ease with which I found a critical analysis on Game of Thrones. Not only was it a worthwhile read, it helped me consider what it is that draws us certain types of stories.
But, after some time online, I found one article about how Star Wars is overrated and a bunch of lists about how cool a Wookie's roar sounds, how much we owe Industrial Light and Magic for paving the way with practical effects, or how fantastic John Williams' music is (it is fantastic).
I'm not ignorant of the influences on George Lucas. As I said, when I start to like something, I put in a lot of time to learn a lot about it. I also do research on things that I don't like but others do, hoping to learn what resonates with other people. So of course I know about Joseph Campbell, monomythical impulses, the melange of religions that imbue the Star Wars universe with its unique texture, and the different ways that the universe has grown far beyond what Lucas ever dreamed would happen. I get that. But just because there are echoes of Taoism with a Christian descant doesn't mean the movies are good. Obviously people think that they are...but why?
Maybe I'm thinking too hard (a likely possibility), but the justifications for why people become engaged so heavily with this particular fandom eludes me. I like it just fine. It has some moments that are enjoyable, and it is definitely iconic. It has flaws, failures, and triumphs. But as a piece of fiction, is it any good? I can't decide, and I can't find anyone approaching it from an angle that makes sense.
Maybe someone can help a brother out?
Comments
Nostalgia is definitely a strong possibility. My dad was four years old when the first Star Wars movie came out. In the movie theaters back then, you didn't pay for a movie showing; you paid to enter the theater. When the movie was over, you could stay in your seat and watch it again if you wanted. My grandparents took my dad to see Star Wars the day it came out, and when it was over, he wanted to see it again. And again. And again. They watched it three or four times in that one day. My brothers and I watched it regularly growing up (right along with the Disney movies), and I imagine my aunts and uncles did as well.
The other thing is, Star Wars has a massive open-galaxy setting. There's an abundance of already-made characters, planets, alien species, spaceships, organizations, etc. that lend themselves well to brand-new stories, and there's still plenty of room for storytellers to make up their own characters, planets, species, etc. I'm not sure how that plays into ordinary fandom, but for years and years it's had my family coming back for more. My parents have rulebooks for at least three different editions of the Star Wars Roleplaying Game and multiple shelves' worth of Star Wars novels, and they spent a lot of time on Star Wars Galaxies back when it was running. My brothers have been watching the Clone Wars animated series, and I'm going through KOTOR II for the first time. My dad decided to start doing Star Wars cosplay (http://mandalorianmercs.org/) along with my uncle recently, and he's getting really excited about the character ideas he's coming up with. There's so much Star Wars going on in our house--and I don't think any of us have actually watched the Star Wars movies recently. There is always more Star Wars.
I suppose less-involved people still like imagine themselves as part of the universe. There's plenty of room for everyone to have their own niche in the galaxy.