Hero’s Trial: The Verdict

I think I understand why fandom rates James Luceno. Shortly before the end of Agents of Chaos I: Hero’s Trial, Han Solo jumps in The Millennium Falcon and rockets across a space battle as if he’s Lando Calrissian escaping Cloud City in The Empire Strikes Back. There’s a sense of momentum, urgency and care-free adventure that is reminiscent of the original trilogy. And after 300 pages of absolute drivel, it’s a nice diversion.

Unfortunately a diversion is all it is. For by the end, Han Solo once again ditches his family and flies off into the stars for another adventure. It’s like he’s having a galactic mid-life crisis. I’m surprised he hasn’t traded in The Falcon for a red sports-cruiser and started hitting on Jaina’s friends.

Whilst I still wouldn’t have any interest in reading it, this would all be an understandable character reaction to Chewie’s death… if an intergalactic war hadn’t just broken out and civilisation as everyone knows it wasn’t on the brink of collapse. Given what’s going on, I just don’t buy it.

Until Hero’s Trial, I would say generally Han Solo’s character development had been pretty good throughout the post-Jedi SWEU. He mellowed, became a family man and refocused his attentions on his wife and kids. Luceno makes a point to counter this, rightly saying that Han had been a smuggler, a pirate, a soldier, a general and a father, using the varying roles to justify the new flip. Problem is, all of them but him being a father were over twenty years ago. Hardly the track record of the flighty character Luceno tries to portray him as.

Hero’s Trial feels like the result of a brainstorm on how Han should react to Chewie’s death. A group meeting, throwing out ideas, and someone mutters the idea of him becoming a scoundrel again and getting away from it all. The marketing department start screaming with exhilaration, as everyone likes Han Solo the scoundrel. Maybe a community moderator pipes up, citing forum posts where people have complained Han is no longer the same person he is in the movies. It all seems so perfect. Except to the writer, whose reservations about characterisation is quickly dismissed. If at this point he’s even in the room.

It’s a long way from here until Jacen’s fall and Jaina gets married. If the characterisation continues to be this bad, we could be here for a while longer.

Whimsy

WHIM-SY Noun: Playfully quaint or fanciful behaviour or humour.

I can’t find the exact quote, but I’ve always found George Lucas’ admission in the Star Wars: A New Hope commentary that Dewbacks were created for whimsical reasons rather telling. His love of it explains a number of the left-field additions to Star Wars, increasing as Lucas’ complete control over the universe also increased. Unfortunately most of this whimsical elements completely jar with the rest of the universe, which – as the franchise’s name suggests – is grounded in war.

The latest offender into Star Wars cannon is the traveling circus in Bound For Rescue, the latest Star Wars: The Clone Wars episode. Put aside questions like why are they on this planet and why are they entertaining pirates, as flaws in logic frequently appear when ideas are added on a whim. Instead, look at how jarring the scenes are when shown along side Obi-wan’s bleak battle against the Confederacy. At best, they seem out of place. And at worst, they aren’t engaging by comparison.

Predominant whimsy is injected into Star Wars whenever the story becomes weak. The Phantom Menace is full of novelty inventions, gags and  sequences, all trying to cover up the fact that not much is going on. It also occurs when Lucas appears to grow bored with what he’s doing – the countless additions in the Special Editions are perhaps a creator who is more interested in technical innovation than considering what effect it has on the story.

Tellingly, the levels of whimsy were reduced greatly for Revenge of the Sith, which by Lucas’ own admission was the one that contained the majority of the original prequel trilogy outline.

The problem with including a whimsical circus in Bound For Rescue is that the episode is otherwise dealing with some darker elements of the Star Wars universe. Obi-wan and Cody in the middle of a (wonderfully animated) major space battle. And Hondo is threatening to sell Ahsoka to a crime cartel, who are very particularly interested in female Jedi, and want one deador alive. It’s an odd request, and leads to an unpleasant train of thought.

Shakespeare often used comedy in his plays to bring emphasis to his tragedy. Based on his reviews, I’d say he did a pretty good job of it. But – as much as I like them both – neither Feloni nor Lucas are up to the standard of Shakespeare. Instead, whimsy in Star Wars tends to undermine everything else.

Back To The Old Republic

Star Wars: The Old Republic went free-to-play today. Although I’m sure unintentional, it could not have been better timed. Episode VII has renewed positive interest in Star Wars again, time has passed for people to put aside the launch debacle and Bioware hasn’t upset its fanbase what must be, like, almost three months now. New record, guys.

As a big KotOR fan, for the longest time I suspected The Old Republic would be the end of my life on Earth, sure to make my three month residence in World of Warcraft seem like a dalliance by comparison. Fortunately it failed to live up to expectations, and my interest wavered after only investing two months into it.

I dropped it for many reasons, but chief among them was I didn’t connect to any of the characters in the same way I did Revan’s gang or the companions of the Exile. I did however find myself sometimes thinking about the characters I played. As I created more of them, I began to link them together in my head, creating a family tree for the newly named Wenson clan. Others must have been doing similar things too, as Bioware announced a family-tree style Legacy System, which would reward players for doing just that.

Central to this family were the characters above – Aleama and Lynnette. Twins, strong in The Force, ripped apart by a Sith raid when they were children. One, sent to the Jedi Order, the other forced to work as a slave until her potential to become a Sith Lord was realised. Aleama is a self-righteous Jedi, arrogant and sanctimonious. Lynnette despises The Sith and works within them to bring them down, but is self-centered and has contempt for the weak.

This is not merely fanfic by a frustrated role-player. Or not just that, anyway. For all the faults, Star Wars: The Old Republic really did make me care about my characters and their decisions in the galaxy.

So, overcome with nostalgia, I decided to give it another go. Already, I’ve grown disillusioned. The Legacy system – not implemented when I left – is a let-down, and I’m a long way off one of the ‘talk’y’ moments with companions that I like so much in RPGs. But it’s nice to hear Lynnette’s snarky tones or Aleama’s holy-than-tho voice acting. I’ve missed my own sliver in the Star Wars universe, and short of actually stepping fully into the realms of fan-fiction, this is as close as I’m going to get.

Nomad Jedi

I’ve never really gotten along with the idea of a Jedi Council. Before The Phantom Menace, the only old Jedi were Obi-wan and Yoda. One lived in a hut in the desert, the other on a bog planet. Strange to think on it now, but at the time I thought all Jedi lived more or less the same.

I don’t think I was alone in thinking this. Tom Veitch’s Tales of the Jedi had no formal training centre, just Master Baas on Dantooine. Michael Stackpole played with the concept of Corellian Jedi. And, one of my favourite Jedi moments, in the fanfic script Fall of the Republic a Jedi Knight is killed whilst repairing his starship, as if he were Han Solo.

I liked this fast and loose individualistic concept of the Jedi Order. Like the samurai movies that inspired Lucas, the Jedi appeared to be wandering nomads, walking the galaxy, letting The Force guide them to wherever they were needed. They may have been the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic, but they certainly didn’t accept missions from it.

So the arrival of the Jedi Council in Episode I profoundly rewrote perceptions of Jedi Knights, causing quite a problem in the EU. This – in my opinion – has been amplified by questionable handling. Instead of acknowledging that the Jedi Order may have changed over time, its entire history has been reconned to always include the institutional hallmarks of the Prequel Trilogy.

Worse still, instead of letting the New Jedi Order to grow on its own, the books have gradually molded it into a carbon copy of the Prequel-era Order, with the sole exception of allowing marriage.

Personally I’m hoping the Michael Arndt addresses this in the Sequel Trilogy, or at least doesn’t merely just copy the old set-up. I also am holding out for some brave writer to pitch a 500 / 1000 years ABY story, where either a peaceful galaxy is questioning the need for Jedi (after all, they tend to cause trouble) or the Jedi are radically different.

Until then, however, I just hope that as we march into the brave new world of Episode VII, things like Star Wars : Nomad continue to get published. Which is what prompted this little blog post today.

Nomad is a four-part comic series that’s part of Star Wars Tales: Volume 6. It’s set around The Phantom Menace, and follows a Jedi named Darca Nyl as he wanders the galaxy and runs from his past. I’m only up to Part Three, but so far it’s a lot closer to my original imaginings of the Jedi than anything else of late, regardless of the period in EU time.

I don’t think anyone would argue that since the Prequels were announced, the Star Wars galaxy has become a homogeneous galaxy. Cultures separated by millennia barely have changed. Technology has stayed the same. And whilst this is largely a good thing – I’m glad the Roman architectural choices of Tales of the Jedi were dropped – one of the things I like about the Expanded Universe is that it can allow writers the chance to take the basic building blocks of Star Wars and do something radical and different with them.

True, it’s given us some stinkers. But it’s also blessed us with Jaalib Brandl, Inquisitor Tremayne and Jodo Kast. Bit part characters, even more dispensable than Mara or Karrde or Corran were in their debuts, yet they have risen up to carve out interesting slices in Star Wars lore.

It’s been a while since we’ve had anything like this for the Jedi, though. Hence why I’m saving Nomad. I can only hope that with the new movies, some variation is brought back into a universe so rich with possibility.

Battles are boring without character

I’m reading two books at present. As noted, in the evenings I’m wading through Star Wars: Agent Of Chaos – Hero’s Trial. And during my daily commute, I’m reading a Samuel Adams’ biography. Clearly, they’re a bit different. But they do share one thing in common –  they are both set during war.

The approaches are interesting. I’m beginning to realise the reason no one has really made a movie about the American Revolution is past the Declaration Of Independence it becomes a protracted collection of skirmishes and bad weather.

Therefore, with such a weak thread of events to work with, the author of the Adams’ biography instead focuses on the characters of the period, bringing to life the cast in vivid detail.

Compare this to James Luceno in Hero’s Trial, who describes an entire battle from the perspective of an omniscient observer, without mentioning one single character. It’s a battle of cruisers, starfighters, lasers and missiles, but devoid of humanity.

It’s a problem I keep hitting with the book. I’ve heard Roa is from the Marvel comics, but truthfully it hardly matters for all the characterisation attached to him. Ditto for Droma, and Desh. They’re like the stock characters you generate on-the-fly for when a D&D game veers off on an unexpected tangent. Hardly the stuff to write novels about.

I’ve seen reviews for Hero’s Trial that argue this is fine, because this is Star Wars. It’s supposed to focus on action, stupid. But even if I were to agree with this (I don’t), action is driven by something to root for. Even in a galaxy of billions, war comes down to people, fighting other people, for reasons almost exclusively to do with people. Which is why this:

Is more exciting that this:

I mean, if a biography of an eighteenth century publican writing letters to some stuffy ministers is more engaging than your novel about star cruisers and space cowboys and deadly viruses, you might want to rethink your strategy.

Hero’s Trial, Han Solo & retirement

This week I’ve started reading Agent of Chaos I: Hero’s Trial. I’ve never read it before. I’ve never read it before because I found Vector Prime boring, and only struggled through the Dark Tide dualogy because Stackpole wrote it.

As a fan, I’m less interested in The Big Three than I am in the Star Wars Universe. So when the New Jedi Order got into biotechnology and extragalactic beings who lived outside The Force (!) I left Luke, Leia and Han behind for other characters like Nomi Sunrider and Zayne Carrick. Characters who still lived in the Star Wars I recognised.

But now that Episode VII looms, I felt I should catch up with them. So I picked back where I left off, with Hero’s Trial.

I can’t say I’m particularly enjoying it. I still think the Vong are in the wrong sci-fi franchise, and for a galaxy at war, nothing seems to be happening. But far, far worse is the characterisation. Is there a plot twist coming where it’s revealed The Big Three have been replaced with replica droids? I find Luke’s sanctimonious attitude to Han’s grief baffling, and would Leia really let Han wallow in self-pity? And speaking of him, Han – Han goddamn Solo – bails on his family during a galactic invasion?

Obviously this strange behavior is intended to show ramifications of Chewie’s death. I just happen to think it doesn’t work.

It has made me think about expectation, though. I went into The New Jedi Order with the desire to revisit old friends. Instead, I find they’ve grown older, cynical, damaged, craggy and despondent. Even if the characterisation had worked, I wonder if seeing Han as a mean old bastard would have been really what I wanted to see?

Which neatly leads into Episode VII. If recent – recent! – rumours are true, Disney studio execs have added Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher to their Star Wars shopping list. I’d personally like this not to happen.

From a story perspective, unless Michael Arndt does something clever like actually make Leia the powerful Jedi she was destined to be, there’s no need for their involvement. They would be reduced to a cameo in their own saga. True, their absence would need some explaining. But I’d rather feel a slight hole than watch Ford and Fisher try to capture the essence of people they long since evolved out of. Ford and Karen Allen had almost half a movie to achieve a similar feat, and they failed miserably. Is there any reason to suggest this wouldn’t be the same?

Reading Hero’s Trial now is a taster of the potential disappointment about pulling Han and Leia back for a victory lap. Before, that older, grumpy, snarkier Han has always been in my head, in the idealised way I wanted him to be. Now though, those memories have been overridden what is known and accepted.

So trouble is, as soon as you put him to celluloid, with Ford trying to capture his self from thirty years past, and that becomes Han Solo, aged sixty-five.

And the version that’s in your head, the one that in actuality is probably more closer to an older Han Solo than Ford could possibly capture? I’ll say this – just try to remember what you thought Harry Potter looked like after you read the books, but before you saw the film.

Can you do it?

No lightsabers, please. Let’s move on.

“The lightsaber is the Jedi’s only true ally” – Huyang, Star Wars: The Clone Wars

“For my ally is The Force, and a powerful ally it is” -Yoda, The Empire Strikes Back

To the vast majority, Star Wars is about space battles and blaster shoot-outs and laserswords. “The big space battle at the end,” my Dad once told me, when I asked him about people’s reaction in 1977. “That’s what everyone talked about”. So much for Joseph Campbell, Jungian archetypes and Buddhist philosophy.

It’s a hard truth to accept that outside of fandom and film studies, no one gives two hoots about the mystical parts of Star Wars. Even Lucasfilm treat the Jedi in the Prequel Trilogy and The Clone Wars show like comic book heroes, with The Force seemingly just existing to grant them superpowers. And the lightsaber is their batarang, webshooter and, er, bow all rolled into one (A sonic screwdriver, then).

Personally, I am disappointed every time I see this. Like in the latest Clone Wars episode, where David Tennant’s droid directly contradicts one of Yoda’s earlier (later?) sayings. To my great sadness, it happens frequently across the Prequels and The Clone Wars.

Fortunately I can currently get my philosophizing fix from the EU. Dark Empire, Tales of the Jedi, and more recently the Quinlan Vos comics put The Force front and centre, only using the lightsaber when absolutely necessary.

But with the future of the EU uncertain (in the wake of Episode VII, a revamp or reboot could easily be on the cards) I’d like to see the Sequel Trilogy set a precedent and embrace The Force over the lightsaber once again. Or, at least, have the rumoured older, wiser Luke Skywalker follow in his mentor’s small footsteps and lose it.

If you really need to satisfy public desire for yet another lightsaber duel, let the young Padawans go at it. But let’s see how Luke has matured as a Jedi, leaving his lightsaber attached to his belt until it’s the last resort. Have him be cranky, snarky, dependent on a walking stick. And then – when the time is right – suddenly that bright green blade emerges once more from the darkness. And the audience will cry.

At the very least, please don’t have a CGI Mark Hamill waving it about for twenty minutes whilst somersaulting down the side of a Star Destroyer at 40,000 feet.