How different could the excitement felt by the spectators of today's new Star Wars film be from the Athenian theater-goers during the ancient Dionysia? Some of my friends attended marathon sessions of viewing the previous six Star Wars movies before seeing the new seventh film; did not also the Athenians sit for long hours on end --for the entire day!-- watching their own marathon of sorts, as their country's playwrights presented their mythological trilogies, like Aiskhylos' Oresteia? As the hissing Furies, yet to be dubbed "The Kindly Ones", roved the stage searching for Orestes in the opening of The Oresteia's third play, would not the Athenians have felt the same shiver dance across their flesh as we feel today when we watch Vader stepping off his shuttle in the opening of Return of the Jedi?
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| Be afraid. |
Those scenes are memorable because both Athenian tragedy and Star Wars (and, by extension, opera) operate under the assumption that the audience is familar with the plots and characters prior to viewing. You know Vader and the Furies are "bad guys" because they possess easily identifiable characteristics which mark them as "bad"; but if you know their backstories and past deeds, then you truly know how bad they are. In order to fully appreciate the story, the audience must have first put in the time and effort to become familiar with the tales and their characters.
As such, these stories are not meant to be mere casual viewing.
And:
Star Wars, like every proper mythology, is rife with various contradictions and inherent inconsistencies which betray the natural and organic fashion in which the overall story evolved -- much like how each authorship of The Iliad would have added their own brushstrokes to the masterwork until Homer wrote his version of the song down.
Additionally, the films' writing history is also a cautionary tale, a good example of mythology gone bad, run amok or overwritten, or even worse, overedited:
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| Still a sore subject. |
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