The ‘Clones’ Reviewed: 
The Force has Died

by Tzvi Kahn

Of course, for the folks over at Twentieth Century Fox, it really doesn’t matter how bad the latest installment in the “Star Wars” empire actually is.  Either way, the studio can rest assured this media megalopolis will continue to gross billions of dollars in ticket and video sales, toys, video games, action figures, and McDonald’s Happy Meals.

As for the rest of us, well, we have the privilege of witnessing our once-beloved film series fall prey to the mindless, voyeuristic sensationalism of those in Hollywood who believe that elaborate special effects and exorbitant brand-name merchandising (think “Godzilla” and “Jurassic Park III”) can substitute for a movie’s plot, coherence, performances, and, above all, intelligence.

Then again, it may just be that George Lucas is not as talented a writer and director as we’d like to think.  “Star Wars: Episode II— Attack of the Clones,” which arrives in video stores November 12, constitutes a spectacular cinematic failure not only because of its simply awful dialogue and empty performances, but also because it lacks the soul and spirit- indeed, the very sine qua non- of the original three pictures.  Back in what we must now refer to as “Episode IV— A New Hope,” “Episode V—a  The Empire Strikes Back,” and “Episode VI— Return of the Jedi,” Lucas and his talented cast and crew exuded a distinct sense of plucky, gung-ho charm and naïveté, a recognition that the films’ primary purpose was to entertain, to take the audience on a heady roller-coaster ride with a minimum amount of histrionic, melodramatic motion sickness.  Thus, in addition to breathtaking special effects, those films featured witty, engaging dialogue, unforgettable characters with aplomb, attitude, and good humor (the personalities of Han Solo, Darth Vader, and Princess Leia come readily to mind), as well as an enchanting story imbued with festive, pseudo-religious élan and universal appeal.

“Attack of the Clones,” in contrast, has virtually none of these elements — with the exception, of course, of those ubiquitous special effects.  But what makes “Clones” even worse is that Lucas seems to think it does.  After all, a film that tackles such seemingly fail-proof and sublime subject matter— including, among other things, a misbegotten love affair, the moral and spiritual dissolution of a young man predestined for greatness, the imminent possibility of an assassination against a beautiful politician, and the looming threat of inter-galactic war— has enormous potential.  Lucas, who co-wrote the screenplay with Jonathan Hales, knows this.  And, obsessed with the importance of his own creation, our plucky director, in a desperate attempt to create an invigoratingly moving film that will inspire recurrent viewers à la “Titanic,” attempts to pull out all the stops, injecting the film with scene after scene of pop-cultural psychobabble and hackneyed mush.  His desperation and lack of originality are so obvious that they destroy nearly all prospects of jabbing the least bit of emotion, realism, or excitement into the film.

“Attack of the Clones” takes place about ten years after the last, equally disappointing “Star Wars” bonanza, “Episode I – The Phantom Menace,” and follows the turbulent adolescence of Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen)— i.e. the future Darth Vader.  Under the expert tutelage of Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor), Anakin is well on his way to becoming a Jedi knight, but the path toward knighthood is not paved with gold. Arrogant, reckless, and contemptuous of authority, Anakin is everything a Jedi shouldn’t be.  What’s worse, when Anakin is assigned to protect the nubile Senator Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman) from potential assassins, he falls in love with her, something utterly verboten for this chaste-bound Jedi-to-be.  And meanwhile, war is brewing on the horizon, fomented by the evil Count Dooku (Christopher Lee), who is developing a massive race of clone warriors in order to take over the galaxy.

All this might be really interesting if any of the characters were somewhat thicker than paper dolls.  As it stands, though, none of the lead actors — with the notable exception of McGregor — succeeds in imbuing the characters with even a modest amount of depth or emotional resonance.  As such, viewers will find it difficult to relate to, let alone care about, the fate of the movie’s protagonists.

This sorry situation is not entirely the fault of the cast, however.  A great deal of the blame lies with the screenwriters, Lucas and Hale, for crafting one of the most banal and dispassionate scripts in recent memory.  Consider, for instance, the ongoing subplot dealing with the forbidden romance between Anakin and Padmé.  Upon watching those love scenes, I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and the fact that the two are totally unconvincing as a couple — those searching for chemistry consonant with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in “Titanic” should look elsewhere— is really beside the point.  What’s most egregious here is the dialogue that poor Christensen and Portman are forced to utter, which amounts to what can only be described as a cinematic atrocity.  How else can one describe such priceless profundities like, “I’m haunted by the kiss you should never have given me; my heart is beating, hoping that kiss will not become a scar; you are in my very soul, tormenting me,” “I’ve been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life,” or, “My love for you is a puzzle, Annie, for which I have no answers; I can’t control it”?

Portman, a gifted actress who delivered a memorable performance in the film “Anywhere But Here,” delivers here one of the most stolid performances of her career; her monotonous, insipid line readings make even the computer-animated Yoda (voiced by Frank Oz) look like a good actor.

The man behind the young Darth Vader doesn’t fare much better.  Christensen, another capable actor who did a considerably better job at depicting rebellious teenage angst in “Life as a House,” makes a valiant effort to interpolate some emotion and pizzazz into his character, but, unfortunately, the young star is simply woefully miscast.  Try as he might, Christensen lacks the emotional maturity to portray convincingly the existential conflict of a vulnerable teenager torn between the stifling demands of his mentors and society on the one hand, and his own libidinous and familial desires on the other.  Rather than exude the psychological dissonance of a discordant soul that will eventually defect to the dark side, Christensen pouts and whines like a juvenile reprobate in need of a good parental spanking.

The supporting characters, including Count Dooku, Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson), Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid), and Anakin’s mother, Shmi Skywalker (Pernilla August), are more convincing in their roles, but they are, unhappily, overshadowed by Lucas and Hales’s sterile script and by the hapless misfortune of being paired with co-stars like Christensen and Portman.  To his credit, McGregor constitutes the only major character that not only delivers a credible performance but does so with charm, jocularity, cool self-confidence, and gusto.  Had more attention been devoted to him than to the other lead performers, then “Attack of the Clones” might have been a more palatable film.

But Lucas is unable to recognize good (or bad) performances when he sees them.  The director seems to be most at home when those avant-garde special effects take center stage, and it is during these moments, when the actors keep their mouths shut, that the film becomes bearable, if not mildly entertaining.

Despite these times, though, the film’s 142 uninspired minutes plod along at a painfully tedious pace.  And when the credits start rolling, we sigh, hope for better luck with “Episode III,” and, together with legions of die-hard fans who regard any criticism of the “Star Wars” saga as nothing short of sacrilegious, start planning our return to the box office to reserve our tickets for that next pyrotechnic bonanza of a sequel.