Star Wars begins not with opening credits, as the guild would enforce in those days, but with a scrawl that has become legendary. Back then, it was a few lines of yellow text scrolling across a lengthy screen that would be photographed on the backdrop of an infinite star- field, losing itself in a vanishing point far, far away. A modest effect, yet those words instantly paint a picture so incredibly vivid that it would kick-start a hugely popular and successful franchise. And it is nothing without its iconic fanfare by John Williams. Take a listen to Holst's Mars movement and see how Williams transforms all the heroism, all the grandiosity and glory into one of the most recognisable themes of all time. And then we pan down and observe a little ship being pursued by a gigantic one, something so immediately identifiable, and we already are entranced.
It is a film that is at once lifted and tainted by Lucas' love for it. We see an entire world envisioned, and the production design so effortlessly ushering us into this aged future. When we crash land in the desert planet Tatooine, we recognise the arid setting, before just a hint of alien and droid life instantly transports our minds to millions of stars and galaxies away. Something so simple as adding an extra sun bathes the horizon for miles and miles with an air of mystery and other worldliness. When we encounter civilisation of sorts, Lucas gently pushes in an intergalactic band, a sleazy bar, aliens and creatures of all sizes - the usual alcoholic suspects. And when we need to take to the skies, the matte painted backgrounds do much of the work; hordes of stormtrooper minions, a grimy and worn Millennium Falcon, the great big grey walls of the Death Star buzzing with machinery and lights. Lucas would later insert his own little (or not so) CGI creations not because of any real need, but because the technology was now available, but this only highlights how perfect the world-building was in the first place. The new digitally rendered beasts look impressive yet noticeable shiny and over- expressive in the worn and dusty Mos Eisley, and sometimes the camera will linger unnecessarily as if to say "Look at what we can do now!" But we had been long immersed before that.
The story is of course a familiar one. It has roots in Joseph Campbell's Hero and Flash Gordon and even Kurosawa's Hidden Fortress; a story with mythic origins. And there are tell-tale signs of Lucas own American Graffiti a few years back. But Star Wars has evolved beyond those and becomes a treasure in its own right. The original created a world beyond the imaginable scope of that time, a sci-fi universe so living and breathing that people flocked again and again to experience it in theatres. Little details and mistakes become cultish and infamous themselves; the stormtrooper who bumps his head on the roof, Solo's comment about his ship's speed, and when a character's characterisation is marred, fans respond; Han shot first.
Looking back on it years gone by, it is inescapable to notice the ageing special effects. That is simply a fact of changing technologies. Yet I still marvel on how impeccably and competently Star Wars is crafted. The sound design is alien and fantastically so; simple acts of pulling on steel cable and microphone interference create these iconic noises, and of course the bright and noisy hum of the lightsabers. Years on we had incoherent and frenetically choreographed battles that seem more like acrobatic dance recitals, and the blades of light flashed at a hundred miles an hour, but here we have Guinness characterised in these simple but powerful strokes, the intent on his face, the recognition of an old pupil, the concentration of a chess match as they probe for a weakness. The space-fight scenes are edited like a dogfight from WW2 with precision by Marcia Lucas (a remarkable presence you don't notice until her absence), and the simply act of placing these fighter pilots on the backdrop of a whizzing and laser filled backdrop is thrilling. As the motion control photography soars through the space and trenches of the death star, these miniatures and models looks immense and engaging.
A gigantic bear-like creature and a small white droid speak not a word, but become fan favourites anyway. There is Darth Vader, who becomes even more menacing when comparing the original voice before the iconic wheezing of James Earl Jones was brought in. There is the plucky young hero, who's fate is only hinted at here, and it takes another two films for the story to become more mature, and his circle to complete. The roguish Han Solo is likewise expanded further in the sequels, as is his relationship with the Princess Leia as they continue to bicker. But is is here in this special film that it all began. The magic of Star Wars is that it takes place in a galaxy so far, far away, but it has become so close over the years, and so familiar.
(Originally 9/10)
7 out of 9 found this helpful