The Cycle of a Hero.

I know the show's long over and the dust has since settled. Nevertheless this still makes for a good read - especially for the Literature students interested in hero myths and character build-ups...

How to Make a Monster: The Tragedy of Anakin Skywalker

Screenwriter Robert Piluso carefully dissects the three Star Wars prequels and examines the devilish metamorphosis of Anakin Skywalker.

The literal meaning of the word “seduce” has nothing to do with steamy romance. “To seduce” originally meant “to lead one off the path.” And so it went that, as Alec Guinness told the world almost 40 years ago, “Vader was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force …”

The moral and righteous path of the Jedi, keepers of peace and order in the galaxy, was destined not to be the chosen way of “the most powerful Jedi ever,” Anakin Skywalker. Whatever you think of the prequels, it is undeniable that George Lucas took great pains (often at the expense of popularity) to render the seduction of Anakin Skywalker, culminating in his sinister metamorphosis into cinema’s most famous and feared villain, Darth Vader.

With Star Wars: Episodes I, II and III, whether we like it or not, the Bearded One teaches us how to make a monster …

ONE STORY: THREE ACTS, THREE MOVIES

A while back, when defending attacks on the quality of Episode I, Lucas explained that The Phantom Menace is only the first act of a larger story, and so it doesn’t make as much sense (that is: doesn’t seem as good) as it will when the other two films are viewed. Lucas has a point. Revisiting Episode I, clearly the foundations of Anakin’s character arc are laid, leading to the descent entailed in the following two films.

Preeminent mythologist Joseph Campbell (1904-1987) called George Lucas his “best student.” Campbell collected myths, folklore and legends from all cultures across all time, and deduced that there is a single, essential story that is told over and over again. This story is called “The Hero’s Cycle” or “the monomyth.” (For more on this, check out The Hero With a Thousand Faces.) Now, when Lucas was writing the original Star Wars, he consulted with Campbell about proper mythological content and structuring. The result, as we all know, was a phenomenal success.

How, then, could Lucas have written Episode I and Episode II in the way he did? How many of us wanted to ask, “Have you forgotten all Master Campbell taught you, young Padawan?” Well, while Star Wars stands alone fine as a motion picture, its story determined by the Hero Cycle, none of the prequels can stand alone.

And maybe we should be okay with that—take Episodes I, II and III as a singular, seven-hour space tragedy.

Lucas adheres to the monomyth, but what’s more impressive is that the quest is about the formation of a villain, not a hero. In Episode I we first hear “the prophecy of the one who is to bring balance to the Force.” All the Jedi are quite excited about this idea; it sounds like that for a thousand years they have awaited a savior, a “Chosen One,” “to destroy the Sith.”

The joke was on them.

In Episode III Yoda admits it is “a prophecy that misread could have been.” Yoda is right. Anakin does bring balance to the Force, but not in the way the Jedi expected. Through Anakin’s betrayal, he is directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of every Jedi in the Republic … save two: Obi-Wan and Yoda. Furthermore, he has enabled the revenge of the Sith: Palpatine is in power, and Anakin his apprentice. That’s two Sith. Two Jedi. Force is balanced. Anakin’s “hero cycle,” his quest, was to bring balance to the Force, and he does. However, he also tips it—for he is the father of Luke and Leia. With Anakin, we have a hero who is simultaneously a villain, and who simultaneously achieves his goal and is responsible for its failure. (Luke tips the scales back to the Good Side.)

The first part of the hero cycle is when the hero receives his “Call to Adventure.” This occurs in Episode I when Anakin is freed to go become a Jedi. Anakin eagerly accepts the call, but ultimately refuses it: He runs back to his mother, puts down his backpack and says, “I can’t do it, Mom. I just can’t do it.” (This is the Refusal of the Call, followed by the Meeting with the Mentor.) His mother tells him to go, and “Don’t look back.” Only because mommy shoos him off does Anakin end up on the path to Vaderdom.

Yoda knows from the beginning that “the boy is dangerous”—because he is very powerful, indeed, but also “he is too old.” By “too old,” Yoda means that Anakin has lived his whole life with an intense attachment to another person: his mother. Therefore, he fears losing her. As Yoda tells us, “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” In a very gutsy and Freudian storytelling maneuver, Lucas clearly synthesizes Anakin’s mother with Anakin’s lover Padme in Anakin’s heart. He loves Padme like his mother, and no others: not Obi-Wan, not the Republic … not even his own offspring. (We can tell by Anakin’s face when Padme tells him she’s pregnant that he does not want to be a father: He is jealous of his unborn child.)

Throughout Episodes I and II, Anakin goes through the other phases of the hero cycle: He undergoes tests, makes allies and makes enemies. But the really fun stuff comes in Episode III as Anakin enters the cycle’s final phase. First, there is the hero’s entry into the Inmost Cave. This is the hero’s darkest, most horrible moment of self-revelation. It is an internal, psychological, spiritual event—hard to dramatize. In the original trilogy, Luke’s Inmost Cave is when, unforgettably, Darth Vader reveals he is Luke’s father.

In Episode III, however, the moment is much more subtle: Anakin waits inside the eerily empty Jedi temple while Mace Windu goes off to arrest Palpatine. Windu instructs Anakin to stay put, and “If what you’ve told me is true [about Palpatine being a Sith lord], you’ll have earned my trust.” It is sunset as Anakin stares out the window, tears in his eyes. For all the times Anakin disobeyed a superior’s directive, this is the one time he needs to do as he’s told … and he knows it. He’s just “not strong enough” to do the right thing—to stay a good Jedi, to let go of his attachment to Padme, to put the welfare of the entire Republic above his own personal happiness. This is the tragedy. When Anakin leaves the temple to save Palpatine, he knows it is the point of no return.

The sun has set on this Jedi.

From here out, he is dubbed Darth Vader. Like a machine, he does whatever action his Master pushes the button for him to do (and this is well before the “machine” metaphor gets literalized!).

Contrarily, Anakin’s son does have the strength to do the right thing. In Empire, when Vader outstretches his hand to Luke and booms, “Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son,” what does Luke do? He chooses suicide. He falls into the abyss. Luckily, he is saved, and the saga continues, but it is significant that Luke passes the test of temptation whereas his father did not.

The hero cycle’s Main Event is the Ordeal—this is the lava duel on Mustafar between Anakin/Vader and Obi-Wan. Anakin/Vader loses. Badly. In essence, Anakin is lost, body and mind. The Emperor saves what’s left of him from the banks of the lava river, and enables the Rebirth of our protagonist into Darth Vader, Mean Machine. Thus, the “hero” achieves Apotheosis (godhood), but he is a dark god … a devil.

MASTER AND SERVANT

While Anakin’s fatal flaw, in line with Greek tradition, is hubris (excessive pride), the weakness that characterizes his entire life is the result of something he had no control over: He was born and raised a slave, owned by a tyrant (Watto), and so he has a "slave mentality." Anakin spent seven of his first 10 years having no human rights, no autonomy. He would have escaped, it seems, if not for the tracking device implanted somewhere in his body that would explode and kill him if he tried. (Ironically, he starts his life imprisoned by inner technology, and concludes his life imprisoned by outer technology.) Throughout the prequels, Anakin has a hard time thinking, or choosing, for himself. When he does, he is unwaveringly selfish, and is this surprising, when for 10 years he never got to have what he wanted?

In the original trilogy, Darth Vader tells Luke, “It is useless to resist,” and, as to why he cannot rejoin the Good Side, “I must obey my Master.” Interestingly, during the middle of Anakin’s life, he is free of technology’s thrall, and of a tyrant’s oppression. However, he simply cannot handle the pressures and non-mandatory obligations to virtue inherent in having free will. It is easier to surrender his mind and body to the will of the Emperor, so long as his heart can stay with Padme. He is too blinded by greed and pride to realize that Padme will not love him as a dark lord of the Sith. When she doesn’t, and she dies, his heart dies with her… while the Emperor still possesses Anakin’s body and mind.

So it goes: in accordance with the monomyth, a monster is made, and borne of that monster is a hero, who makes all the right choices where his father before him failed, because Luke does not have a slave mentality. The new Star Wars trilogy is damn good cinema, really.

Of course, then again, seven hours is a long time to spend watching a story about a snotty punk. But, as the grosses show, when the storyteller is George Lucas, "It is useless to resist ... "