If “A New Hope” felt fresh and new (because it was), and “The Empire Strikes Back” felt bold and interesting (because it was), then surely George Lucas and the creators of “Return of the Jedi” would have to come up with something entirely different for the third film in his masterful Star Wars trilogy.
Necessity is the mother of invention, after all. Lucas had by now, famously, begun to suffer burnout. Limiting his saga to three films,* instead of the originally envisioned nine or 12 (depending on your favorite version of events), was his most obvious concession, but if you look closely, you’ll see loads of details that acknowledge this fact.
* Though I will once again acknowledge the brilliance of turning a three-act play into a trilogy of movies, regardless of how or why he came to that decision.
Observe the actors’ performances, which mostly begin to feel bored or frustrated. Their characters’ inevitable triumph feels more like a relief than a celebration.
Or consider the plot of a “second Death Star,” which even at the time felt lazy and uninspired.
Or observe our return to planets we’ve visited before in Tatooine and Dagobah.
Or notice that the entire last half of the movie is set on a “forest moon” that uncannily resembles Lucas’ backyard.
Pretty much everything signaled that this enterprise had begun to become a struggle.
Hiring on a director to take the helm in his stead (for the second straight film, this time in the form of Richard Marquand) was another clear admission that the creator himself needed help — understandable, given Lucas’ attempts to build multiple companies from the ground up while simultaneously suffering through a contentious divorce — but even the choice of director in itself reflected much. Marquand’s bonafides were more than a little lacking coming into the project. Lucas would need to remain heavily involved, which would have the benefit of allowing him to communicate his own vision, but would also require his presence on set.
While he was juggling everything else.
Burnout.
It is within that basic framework that we can begin to understand what “Return of the Jedi” actually is, and why it is the way it is.
In many ways, it is a concession. Lucas’ original visions were grand, invoking huge spectacles, messages centering on spirituality, and as mentioned before, at least three more sequels (with all the plot twists the added run time would imply).
Instead we got Ewoks.
Yeah, that’s harsh. Truth be told, I like their inclusion in the canon. But they’re visual representatives of the kind of concessions the filmmakers were making. Originally, the setting was envisioned as the Wookiee home world of Kashyyyk. Can you imagine a finale featuring multiple Chewbaccas swinging around, ripping Stormtroopers’ arms off? Instead, we get little critters that are literally half their size.
The aforementioned second Death Star, under construction for logical plot reasons, is literally half a Death Star. The Ewoks are half Wookiees. The Emperor’s throne room which was on an imaginatively envisioned capital city planet of Coruscant instead becomes a tower on the half-completed Death Star. Grand visions of the afterlife and the conflict moving there instead manifest themselves as Alec Guinness sitting on a log.
That Lucas had to make concessions at all no doubt infuriated him and sparked him (and the people around him) to create new methods for allowing his creative visions to come to life.
His budget, reportedly a robust (for the time) $32.5 million, wasn’t quite the problem it was during the first two films, but it must be noted that he was financing this movie on his own (as he did with Empire). That’ll tighten the purse strings faster than anything else.
And yet, he perceived his biggest hurdles in making the films he wanted were technological in nature.
He had founded Industrial Light and Magic to meet the demands of his first two films. And while they would eventually be responsible for the ground-breaking digital effects in films like Jurassic Park (encouraging him to eventually make his prequels), at the time of Jedi they weren’t yet up to those standards.
The same could be stated for sound. Or editing. Or animation. As George saw film-making challenges to be overcome, he established entities to meet those challenges. Enter THX (for high quality digital reproduction), Lucasfilm itself (which invented non-linear digital film editing) and the Pixar computer (revolutionizing animation and spawning a whole new company).
The demands of meeting those challenges couldn’t have made working on a new movie at the same time any easier.
Lucas’ anti-establishment way of thinking (and perhaps some measure of impatience) demanded that he solve these problems himself. He fought desperately to maintain control of his own intellectual property so that he could make the movies he wanted, and in doing so, he became the head of a corporation himself.
You don’t have to squint to see the parallels between that and the main plot thread of “Return of the Jedi.” Lucas himself has acknowledged them. And perhaps more relevantly for current audiences, it’s a struggle we are dealing with in our own society. It’s instructive to look around the U.S. at the Baby Boomers right now. Many of them, who burned bras and experimented in drugs and preached love over war, are now in control of a country that prioritizes profits over anything else and is hopelessly corrupt.
They were going to change things. But they fell.
Luke Skywalker, fresh off of his humbling defeat in “The Empire Strikes Back,” must once again confront the fallen Jedi Darth Vader, a direct reflection of his own struggle. Would Luke fall to the dark side in trying to win the day? Would he become his own worst enemy? That question is central to the story and is the biggest question that must ultimately be answered … which provides additional emotional heft for the viewer as we watch the conclusion play out.
This question begins from his first scene on screen, as he appears clad in black and has no reservation about force-choking his enemies to get his way. Though he works to save his friends in the opening act in Jabba’s palace, he eventually withdraws from them multiple times throughout the course of the film.
This is our hero? He seems a little “Sith-y” to me.
That opening act is surprisingly intimate in nature. Perhaps they had boxed themselves into a corner due to previous events in the saga, and perhaps George felt limited by resources and technology, but the fact remains a rescue attempt of a single character was certainly more of a personal story than an intergalactic one. Hell, we’re over half an hour into the movie before Luke’s lightsaber makes an appearance. The effect on the film is that we have a buildup, from relatively quiet and personal to huge and bombastic and galaxy-shaping.
This basic structure would become the standard default for the movies that followed.
Build … build … build … build … release!
That this movie would become a blueprint of sorts is evident throughout its run time. And it made sense as we look back now. Lucas had to establish a kind of “these are the rules of Star Wars” guide, not only for Marquand, but for future directors (himself included) if he ever green-lit more films (which of course he did).
“Return of the Jedi” represented a necessary step in the Star Wars movie-making machine: an establishment of norms and patterns that can serve as a guidepost for future Star Wars films.
If the slow build wasn’t particularly innovative or unique, it was still a part of what Lucas sought in future installments. And in terms of innovative structure, one has to admire the inter-cutting surrounding the climax of the film. Empire may have technically initiated that trend (Luke battles Vader as his friends attempt to escape Cloud City), but here it is more pronounced, deliberate, and ambitious. A ground battle occurs on the forest moon while above them space ships shoot at one another (in one of the most exhilarating sequences in any of the films) … all while Luke and Vader battle over each other’s soul in front of a cackling Emperor.
Build … build … build … build … release!
It’s difficult to express just how well this is all executed. What had been a tired, bored film becomes the most adrenaline-filled in the entire saga in a matter of seconds.
Credit, in part, the aforementioned editing. But also credit the visual story-telling techniques on display. Advances in puppetry (Jabba, Rancor), camera techniques (the speeder bike sequence), and stunt work (the Sarlacc pit stunts) had all made their impact earlier in the film and would go on to be key components of future films. But the work of ILM in particular in the final third of this movie is superb. If proper digital effects were still a decade away, these still represented the best practical effects one would see for years (if not decades). And despite what many would argue, these types of practical effects remain tremendously important in the Star Wars universe today.*
* I must also take a moment to acknowledge another important piece of the puzzle, the tremendous sound. From Ben Burtt’s sound effects to John Williams’ rousing score, a hallmark of effective Star Wars storytelling has always been good sound.
Of course none of that would matter without story. And the story components might be “Return of the Jedi”‘s biggest contributions to the “Star Wars blueprint.”
The character of Emperor Palpatine is the most glaring example. Simply put, a “bigger” bad allows for our “lesser” bad to be taken in more interesting directions. We can flirt with temptation, redemption, themes of regret and loss, questions of shifting loyalties, and on and on and on. Everything is now on the table for our primary antagonist. This manifests itself in Jedi brilliantly, but it would become such a hallmark of the series that Lucas would later find it necessary to explain the phenomenon to the audience with his “rule of two.”
Consider also what transpires on Endor. The Ewoks serve the story in a couple of different ways … both of which have become tenets of Star Wars since. Firstly, the theme of “want to” defeating technology, while not new (we saw elements of this in “A New Hope” with its riffs on the Vietnam War) is incredibly stark here.* It’s one thing to have guys with space ships and laser swords defeat other guys with space ships and laser swords. It’s quite another to have a group of teddy bears win using rocks and spears.
* This would continue to influence future installments, and with good reason: it’s compelling to watch the underdog face long odds.
And ah yes, the teddy bear thing.
Cuteness.
These films always resonated with children from the very beginning, but here Lucas ramps up the pandering, and it’s been basically left intact ever since (“Rogue One” being a notable exception). Again, it would make sense that Lucas — a new father but also a recipient of millions of dollars in toy revenue — would do this.
It comes down to personal taste how much of this is welcome, but Jedi does represent a shift in that direction, for better or worse.
Truthfully, these films are always evolving, but there’s little doubt “Return of the Jedi” would greatly inform the next installment of the series (“The Phantom Menace” is essentially a re-make in many respects), while it remains one of the most influential movies of the entire saga.
We will see this stuff again and again and again.
The conflict resolution of Jedi tells the story. It’s not lost on me that the establishment, for the first time, of the victorious path of non-violence (one of my favorite things about the movie) coincides with a movie-making “path” that would net positive results for decades to come.
In giving Star Wars a proper ending, Lucas and company also gave Star Wars its future.
Liked this post? Check out:
My retrospective on “The Empire Strikes Back.”
My retrospective on “Star Wars: A New Hope.”