Prequel

10 Great Things about The Phantom Menace

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The year is 1999, and a new Star Wars movie was coming out for the first time in 16 years. To say that people were excited is putting it mildly; no film since – not even the sequel trilogy – has come close to the anticipation the world had for Menace. No matter where you went, you were bombarded with commercials, promotions, toys, and this thing. And on May 19th, my family and I went to the theater, took our seats, and were caught up in the thunderous cheers of the audience as the title finally appeared… And then we were informed that the taxation of intergalactic trade routes was in dispute.

Uh oh.

Two hours later, we walked out into the night, and I was… satisfied. The Phantom Menace wasn’t the masterpiece of escapism I had hoped it would be, but I still liked it. Unfortunately, a lot of other people didn’t, and the film became synonymous with everything that was wrong with Star Wars, becoming the butt of a great many (admittedly hilarious) jokes.

Yet, as the decades have passed, views towards The Phantom Menace have softened, to the point where many in the Star Wars fandom look back on it fondly. Thus, in the spirit of celebrating the film’s 25th anniversary, here are 10 great things about The Phantom Menace.

1. It tells a new story

If The Phantom Menace was made today, it would lean heavily on nostalgia and familiar story beats from previous films (as The Force Awakens would do decades later), but George Lucas didn’t do that. Instead, he told a new story about the twilight of a democratic republic that was rotting away from within, a logical counterpart to the original trilogy’s saga of fighting to save the galaxy from a fascist empire. And while we do get some returning characters and locations from the original trilogy, almost everything else in Menace – from Naboo, Coruscant, Luke and Leia’s mom, a look at how the galaxy’s government runs, and our very first look at the Jedi order – are fresh and unique. Even if the story didn’t quite work out as fans had wanted, Lucas is to be commended for trying something new and not just re-telling a story that had already told.

2. Qui-Gon Jinn

While it’s great to see Obi-Wan Kenobi in his younger years (played wonderfully by Ewan Mcgregor), my favorite character of Menace is his tutor, Qui-Gon Jinn. Jinn is a fascinating Jedi who, instead of the orthodox Obi-Wan and dogmatic Yoda, seeks to follow the spirit of Jedi law instead of its letter. He believes in focusing on the moment, listening to the Force, and doing what’s right, regardless of what others think, even if it involves bending the rules to achieve a greater good. But most of all, he’s a good man who doesn’t talk down to others:

With Liam Neeson’s warmth, focus, authority, and just a touch of mischievousness, Qui-Gon remains my favorite Jedi in the Star Wars saga.

3. Anakin Skywalker

Much has been written over the years about how ill-advised it was to have Anakin Skywalker be a 9 year old kid in Menace, and even more has been written about Jake Lloyd’s portrayal of the galaxy’s most infamous Jedi. While I agree that it probably would have been better to introduce him as a teenager, I still think Anakin’s fine in the film; he is, after all, a 9 year old boy and acts like it. And much like how even Sauron was not evil in the beginning, I liked seeing the boy who would be Vader as an innocent kid who – despite being a slave his whole life – is still compassionate and helps total strangers without any thought of reward. It’s a refreshing reminder that Vader didn’t start out as an evil little brat who enjoyed force-choking other kids who stole his blue milk at lunchtime, but an ordinary person who could do either great good or great evil.

4. The Prophecy of the Chosen One

Perhaps no other trope has been done to death than prophecies about chosen ones who will save the world, and Star Wars has its own with the prophecy of the one who will bring balance to the Force. But Menace smartly and cleverly uses this trope to add a whole new layer of depth to Anakin. In the original trilogy, he was little more than glorified muscle for the Emperor, but here we learn that he was created by the Force itself to bring balance, turning Vader into a tragic figure who could have been the most powerful and most famous Force user in history, but became a cripple who lost everything due to his fear of loss. This twist is an excellent example of a prequel enriching a previous story by adding more complexity that originally didn’t exist, letting us see beloved characters in a new light that makes them even more compelling than before.

5. The Jedi Order aren’t the heroes we thought they were

Throughout the original trilogy, the Jedi were revered as mythical beacons of truth, justice, and the American way. In Menace, we finally see them in their heyday… and discover that they’re a dogmatic, self-righteous cult. While the corruption and fallibility of the Jedi would be explored in subsequent movies (and get really torn apart in The Last Jedi decades later), Menace shows how, as the Republic became corrupt and decayed from within, so too, did the Jedi order, and nowhere is this more telling than when the Jedi council tests Anakin:

Rather than being compassionate and understanding towards this little boy who has do to leave everyone and everything he’s ever known to follow a dream, they treat him with contempt and refuse to take him on because he’s too old, revealing that the Jedi – for all intents and purposes – brainwash children into their order without giving them a choice on if they want to join or not. And in one of the saga’s biggest twists of irony, this lack of compassion and decency towards Anakin sows the seeds of the council’s own destruction at his hands years later. (Notice the death-glare Anakin gives Mace when he says that Anakin won’t be trained.)

The Last Jedi may have been mocked for trying to subvert audience expectations, but Menace did it first by making the Jedi order horribly flawed instead of morally pure defenders of the light. While their individual members may be good beings dedicated to doing what’s right, their organization was as decayed as the Republic they served.

6. The Beauty of Naboo

While Tatooine once again comes back to showcase its endless seas of sand, dirt, and rock, Menace takes us to two new planets: Coruscant and Naboo. Coruscant is a breathtaking example of a city-planet, but Naboo easily takes the award for the most beautiful planet in the Star Wars universe.

With beautiful rolling green hills, towering waterfalls, Byzantine buildings, and Baroque/Rococco interiors, Naboo is a gorgeous example of a sci-fi society that has achieved harmony with nature, and becoming a place you’d actually want to visit and live in. (Yeah, electing pre-teens to be their leaders is an odd quirk, but eh.)

7. The Podrace

If someone asked you to imagine The Phantom Menace with a single scene, the climactic lightsaber fight at the end would probably come to mind. But coming in close behind would probably be the podrace, and with good reason: ILM pulled out all the stops to create a fast-paced, exciting, outer-space remake of the legendary chariot scene from Ben-Hur, and they succeeded.

While its story purpose is a bit silly (Anakin needs to win so that his new friends can get a new engine for their spaceship), the sequence is a visual and audio marvel, and gives Anakin a chance to show off his mechanical and piloting skills. It’s a scene like no other in the Star Wars saga, and a thrill ride no matter how may times you see it.

8. Sio Bibble

There’s a politician in the Star Wars universe named Sio Bibble who looks like he’s a human-sized gnome. I love it!

9. Duel of the Fates

It may still be affectionately mocked 25 years after it was released, but The Phantom Menace does one thing perfectly, and that’s the legendary battle between Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Darth Maul at the film’s climax. Before the film came out, lightsaber fights were slow, grounded, and realistic duels between inexperienced moisture farmers, old men, and asthmatic space cyborgs. But here, George Lucas showed what duels were like between Force-users in their prime with jumping, flipping, and multiple combatants, double-bladed lightsabers, and one of the most incredible pieces of music John Williams has ever composed. Lucas succeeded so well that this type of fighting remains the standard in all Star Wars media to this day, and the fight itself remains arguably the most epic in any of the films.

But beyond the exciting visuals and music, there’s a deeper theme at work here: This fight isn’t just about Jedi fighting Sith, but is a duel for the fate of Anakin’s soul. If Qui-Gon won, he could have potentially helped Anakin stay in the light… but Obi-Wan was left to take up Anakin’s training, a move that, as he will admit to Luke many years later, had disastrous consequences for the galaxy.

10. The Phantom Menace

Though there are deaths, military occupations, and Anakin leaving his mother, The Phantom Menace is a lighthearted story that ends on a happy note: Naboo is liberated, Darth Maul is vanquished, The Trade Federation can kiss their trade franchise goodbye, and Anakin begins his Jedi training… but as the film’s credits come to an end, and the final, quiet notes of Anakin’s theme fades out, we hear the distant echo of Darth Vader breathing.

For years, I’ve just enjoyed it as a chilling easter egg reminding us of Anakin’s dark destiny, but it wasn’t until recently that I realized that, in a way, Anakin himself is the Phantom Menace. Though Palpatine is the greatest evil in the Star Wars galaxy and has started his plan to gain ultimate power, it’s Anakin who will destroy the Jedi, terrorize the galaxy, and, in the end, kill Palpatine. He’s the ultimate threat to everyone in the film, and no one – not even Palpatine himself – suspects this. Thus, hearing Vader’s breathing is a reminder that while Palpatine is the one calling the shots, it’s Anakin who will bring them all down.

Those are my favorite ten things about The Phantom Menace. What are yours? Sound out below in the comments!

What we can learn from ‘The Thing’ (the 2011 prequel)

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TheThing2011Cover

How do you create a follow-up to a classic film? Do you remake it? Do a sequel? A prequel? Or do you do the sensible thing and leave it alone, not daring to possibly negate or tarnish its reputation with a dud that fails to take off? If there’s money to be made at the box office, you can bet it’s not going to be the latter.

John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ is a horror classic, it’s simple, but effective story of isolation, paranoia, and one of the most terrifying (and disgusting) monsters from beyond the stars ensuring its cinematic immortality. Unfortunately, the 2011 prequel, ‘The Thing’ didn’t have the impact its predecessor did. Like many others, I was looking forward to seeing how almost thirty years of development and advances would affect the mechanical creatures on screen, only to be crushed at seeing all the practical effects be painted over with CGI ‘enhancements’. Eight years on, and the film has slipped into obscurity, seemingly fated to be seen only during series marathons, remembered as a noble but failed effort to live up to its predecessor.

However, while the film does have its share of problems, its clear that the filmmakers were great fans of the Carpenter original, and poured their hearts into creating a worthy side story to the ‘82 film. With that in mind, let’s see what we can learn from this chilly tale of Antarctic horror.

When doing a prequel, avoid making it a remake of a previous film

Writer Eric Heisserer had a daunting task when it came time to write ‘The Thing’: While a prequel was the most logical way to go (so as to avoid spoiling the original film’s ambiguous ending), the 2011 ‘Thing’ feels almost like a remake instead of a standalone story: it follows most of the same beats and ideas as the original movie, complete with figuring out that testing blood will reveal who’s a Thing and who isn’t (though the film cleverly subverts this by having the title creature destroy the testing equipment shortly after the realization is made). While there are substantial differences between the two films – such as heading inside the UFO – I couldn’t help but feel like I was watching a modern-day version of the ‘82 film.

When doing our own prequels, consider mixing things up to avoid feeling like we’re watching a disguised copy of what’s come before: If you’re doing a slasher prequel, consider having only a few victims instead of many. Instead of having one villain, consider having two (found one creature in the ice? Perhaps there was a second one nearby that thawed out after the Norwegians recorded themselves excavating the first). The more you mix things up, the easier it is to avoid the feeling of ‘been there, seen that’.

When doing a prequel, ask if it’s a story that really needs to be told

As noted above, a prequel was logically the only way to add to the ‘Thing’ mythos that didn’t touch the previous film, but the cost of making a prequel is that there’s no longer any mystery of wondering what happened at the Norwegian base. As Youtube user LittleJimmy points out in his excellent analysis of the film, when we originally watch the 82 film, our imaginations race into overdrive wondering what happened when MacReady walks through the building’s burnt husk. Mine did when I first saw the film, wondering what on earth caused such carnage, death, and mystery, but the 2011 film removes that mystery, and what we get in return, as noted above, doesn’t feel all that different or substantial.

When writing a prequel to a story, ask yourself if it adds additional depth to the mythology of your series. Is it a story that manages to be standalone from the original? And, more importantly, would knowing what happens in your prequel enhance or take away from what happened in the original story? Would it add to mysteries, or take them away, leaving nothing to keep our curiosity engaged?

Consider revealing some new aspects about a monster (but not everything)

One thing the 2011 Thing does well is add more layers to the title creature by revealing that it cannot duplicate inorganic matter when assimilating someone, which makes for a reliable way to tell if someone is human or not, and even helps settle the ambiguous ending of the original film (if Childs still has an earring, then he’s definitely human… unless he’s a Thing that remembered to put an earring in).

The second reveal is a bit more subtle: in the original film, the Thing preferred stealth and staying out of sight unless it was attacked, while in the prequel, it’s much more aggressive and attacks others frequently. While this may seem like a contradiction, many Thing fans like myself theorize that the creature learns from its experiences in this film and is more quiet and subtle in the original after learning that running around and giving inhuman shrieks is not the best idea.

In our own stories, consider using a prequel to a monster story as a chance to add more depth and history to your monster. However, be cautious not to give away too much about the beast: the prequel smartly doesn’t tell us if the form found in the ice was the Thing’s original form, or just another creature it had assimilated. Nor does it tell us if it’s the pilot of the spacecraft, a passenger, or something else, leaving its origins and motives a mystery.

Consider having your victims be awake, aware, and helpless during a scene of body horror

While the original film is rightfully seen as a masterpiece of body horror, the prequel does surpass it one way: it shows how horrifying and painful being assimilated can be. The first death in the film is nasty because it looks like Henrik is being sucked on like a lollipop while still alive; Adam is worse because he’s being physically fused with a Thing and can’t do anything about it, but it’s Jonas who has the worst death in the series: a tiny but impossibly strong Thing latches onto his mouth and seemingly chews away at his own, eventually causing him to merge with it, culminating with a shot of the poor man silently begging Kate to kill him. Yikes.

In our own stories, there’s arguably no quicker way to make your reader’s blood curdle by giving characters a horrible, slow death where they’re overpowered by something stronger than themselves and physically violated, all while being helpless to stop it, and suffering horribly throughout the process. However, it might be a good idea to limit these deaths, as while they’re powerful, they’re also too emotionally taxing to bear one after another.

Consider having your protagonist discover an antagonist’s last minute disguise and triumph over it

In horror stories, it’s common to have protagonists think they’ve triumphed over the monster or killer, only to realize at the very last second that they’ve actually failed, and that the evil force of the story has won. 2011’s ‘Thing’ comes very close to such an ending, but Kate, proving that she has an unparalleled knack for catching tiny details, realizes that ‘Sam’ is actually a Thing, and kills it, saving herself from being attacked and assimilated by it in the middle of nowhere.

In our own stories, a fourth-act reversal can feel like a tease or a cop-out (or, if your story is long, leave the audience saying, ‘Oh come on! It’s not over yet?!’), but if it’s a reversal where the villain wins, it can leave your audience feeling crushed, and knowing that everything the heroes went through was for nothing. 2011’s ‘Thing’ smartly subverts that trend and lets the audience realize both how close an antagonist was to succeeding at its goals, and that Kate is far more resourceful and observant than we thought before. Best of all, a reversal where the hero triumphs makes for a refreshing and satisfying ending.

Consider leaving your character’s fate up in the air

The original ‘Thing’’s legendary ending leaves the viewer wondering if Childs is a Thing, or human. While the prequel doesn’t have the ambiguity of wondering if the Thing is truly defeated or just badly hurt, it does leave the viewer wondering if Kate is going to survive. Considering that we last see her staring out the window of her snowcat, miles from help in the middle of the Antarctic night, her odds aren’t good as the film fades to black and the credits roll.

In our own stories, there are advantages of leaving a character’s fate open-ended. The biggest is leaving the audience free to decide for themselves what happens next, instead of a clear-cut downer or uplifting ending. I like to imagine that Kate decided to at least try to get to the Russian station, if only to warn them about what was found in the ice (which would explain why there’s no sign of her snowcat when MacReady and Copper find the UFO in the original).

Either way, leaving thing up in the air and letting your audience imagine what happens next is a great way to keep them engaged with the power of mystery and the unknown.

Consider ending your prequel with a direct tie-in to the original

One of the biggest pleasures of any prequel is the opportunity to do an ending that ties in with the opening moments from an original, classic story. ‘The Thing’ ends with Lars and the last surviving Norwegian get into a helicopter to chase the husky-Thing that arrives at outpost 31, seamlessly leading into the opening of the 1982 film, complete with Ennio Morricone’s classic theme playing in the background for the first time in the movie.

In our own stories, the biggest advantage to doing an ending that directly ties in to an original story is that your audience’s nostalgia for the original story will skyrocket to 11: They know what’s coming next, and being able to see the events that lead into those moments are a thrill.

The Takeaway

When doing a prequel to a story, avoid making it a disguised copy of what came before, and consider if it’s a story that will add to your mythology, or take away from the mystery and wonder of the original. If that story is worth telling, add new layers and information to the characters or world of the original, and if its a horror story you’re writing, try grossing and terrifying your readers by having a victim suffer a fate worse than death by having the be awake, aware, and helpless to do anything about it. And when your antagonist tries a last-minute escape or execution of his/her/its plan, have the protagonist realize what’s going on and stop them, and then having that protagonist face an uncertain future while your prequel then ratchets up the nostalgia value by directly tying into the beginning of your original story at the very end.