April 28, 2016
On Iconic Films and
the Danger of Returning to Them
And so it begins.
There are images that live forever in the minds of most
die-hard moviegoers – Rick and Louis walking into the foggy unknown at the end
of Casablanca, Antonio Ricci escaping
the wrath of the crowd under the protection of his son at the conclusion of The Bicycle Thieves, Mookie and Sal’s
surprising optimism during the closing moments of Do the Right Thing. These are characters and moments that will live
in perpetuity. They are ageless, for every person that sees these films will
likely have those images etched in their memories forever. Sure, moviegoers
noticed Humphrey Bogart age in movie after movie, yet Rick Blaine will always
remain that optimistic romantic heading off into a life of danger and
uncertainty. Antonio Ricci will eternally be a figure shamed in front of his
son, yet perhaps lifted up by his strength in the face of adversity. Sal and
Mookie will always be just about to begin a new journey, one much more complicated
than it had been just a day before. The makers of these films were right to
conclude their stories where they did, for this is how these characters should
be remembered – in the moment, in the middle of unending life.
But imagine if their stories continued, if Rick and Louis
were depicted twenty years later in another bar somewhere in Europe in which
walked Ilsa Lund. Would the ending of the first film still have the same magic?
How would we feel if Vittorio De Sica had seen fit to return to Ricci and show
us him working as a successful store owner in an economically-rejuvenated
Italy? Would we still be as moved as we were before? What would we say about Do the Right Thing if we learned that
Sal had become a bitter old man cursing the young men who had destroyed his
store so many years earlier and making broad racist swipes at all people of
color? In truth, we would likely wish the sequel had never been made – not
because its depiction of Sal would be outside the realm of possibility, but
because most of us prefer to believe that change and healing was possible for
those characters.
A year ago, my list of iconic moments in film would have
included the end of Return of the Jedi
and its endearing image of its heroes in a moment of joyous celebration. I was
under no illusion that the destruction of the second Death Star had completely
wiped out the Empire, and I always knew that more stories involving these
characters could be told. However, I was glad they weren’t. In my mind, Luke would
always remain the triumphant young man who had found the long-dormant conscience
of his father, and Han and Leia would forever stay the couple who had finally
found the path to true happiness. Now Luke is an aging recluse, and Han is
gone. Alas, so too is the iconic image that had accompanied my memories of
these characters.
And as this change occurred, I must admit that my attachment
to the series began to wane. The original Star
Wars trilogy acquired legendary status in my youth. Everyone had to see
them, and if you knew someone who hadn’t, you made sure to bring over your VHS
copies along with some popcorn and soda. It was simply a joy to share these
films, and I remember the glee I witnessed on the faces of people who
discovered them for the first time during their return to the big screen in
1997. The prequels dampened this joy somewhat, as did Lucas’s continued
tinkering with the original trilogy. With each alteration, the films may have
gotten closer to his original vision of them, yet they got further and further
away from the films that had excited people so much back in 1977.
Perhaps it was inevitable that Star Wars would return. As revenue from physical products fell and film
costs skyrocketed, Hollywood was always likely to turn to safe bets rather than
untested inspirations. Remember, prior to Star
Wars: The Force Awakens, King Kong had
already been remade twice, Godzilla
twice as well, and Dracula countless
times, There had also already been reboots of Batman and Superman, as well as
Spider-Man, James Bond, and Star Trek,
so Hollywood was definitely not shy about hitting the reset button.
Yet there is a difference between rebooting a series after a
long hiatus and starting it up again after just a two year break. And there’s a
distinction between picking up a series after twenty years and completely
diluting it of what made it so special in the first place.
Granted, there was a lot that we didn’t know about the
characters in Star Wars. We never
knew anything about Luke’s childhood, nor were we pricey to the fascinating
details of just what caused Han to go into smuggling in the first place or to the
countless exciting and harrowing adventures he must have had while in that
profession. We also didn’t know how Han and Chewbacca met or the details of
Leia’s childhood. In truth, they didn’t matter. We accepted the characters as
they were the first time they appeared on screen. And we accepted that there
had been a daring and costly mission to retrieve the design of the Death Star
and that they had been placed in a droid that eventually made its way to
Tatooine. We didn’t need to see it. I believe we still don’t.
In a perfect world, the Star
Wars series would have stopped
with Jedi, and Disney would have come
up with an original story that would have dazzled and amazed this generation of
moviegoers in the same way that the original trilogy did people in the late 70s
and 80s. It would have been theirs, their legend filled with their iconic images.
It would have been something they introduced their children to and spoke of
with reverence when asked about the memorable moments of their youth. Instead,
they get The Force Awakens, not a bad
film, but one that is likely to give viewers a sense of déjà vu if they watch
it so soon after Star Wars: A New Hope and
The Empire Strikes Back.
And that’s not all. Next year we get that story that no one
was demanding in a film entitled Rouge
One, a film that, judging by the trailer, is filled with the kinds of
characters that regularly appear in adaptations of Marvel comic books. In fact,
the description of Jyn that we hear in the first trailer could just as easily
refer to the Ant-Man’s alter ego, Scott Lang. As if that wasn’t enough, two
years later, we’re likely to get that solo Han Solo film. In other words, Star Wars is moving backwards, filling
in plot holes that no one minded in the first place.
Will those films make money? Probably. However, with every
successive Star Wars story, the
original trilogy will lose a little more of what made it so extraordinary to so
many people. Eventually, they will just be the best parts of a series that was
extended not because there were more stories that demanded to be told, but
because a studio decided it needed to make them to survive in today’s
post-Internet world. I understand this, yet we must recognize what it means.
Nothing is sacred, and no series is untouchable. Wolverine will eventually be
played by a different actor, the reset button pushed on the X-Men; there will
one day be another version of James Bond’s first case, just as we’ll soon get
John McClane’s first year on the job. The upcoming reboot of Spider-Man is unlikely to be the last,
just as Affleck’s Batman is unlikely to be the final one we see. Disney will
continue to make live-action versions of their animated masterpieces, and movie
studios in general will continue to comb through what has come before for that
next big thing. Contemporary filmgoers will essentially be watching their
parents’ masterpieces instead of having their own. Again, I get it from a
business standpoint, and it appears that much of the movie-going public has no
objection to it. I just hope it is recognized for what it could be – the end of
each generation truly having their own cinematic legends.
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