The Problem of Non-concession

I grew up not thinking much of George Washington. Of the founding fathers, I felt like he was by far the most overrated. Sure, he was the leader of the revolutionary army, but he was bad at it. It seemed to me that what he was best at, the place he really excelled, was losing battles. Of course, that's from the perspective of a teenager who evaluates everything based on whom is winning or losing. And, sure, Washington "won" the war, but that was hardly his doing considering the long list of defeats he suffered. Winning by luck isn't really winning; it's just not losing.

Needless to say, my younger view of Washington was overly simplistic at best, and I have since come to appreciate the man. For one thing, Washington knew his own limitations and, because of that, surrounded himself with people who were, basically, smarter than him and on whom he could rely to make decisions. And I think he must have been one of the most charismatic men to ever walk the planet based upon what he was able to inspire men to do.

But none of that is important. All of the important things about Washington boil down to two things:
1. He freed his slaves. Yes, he waited until his death to do it, but, still, he did it. Of the founding fathers who owned slaves, the ones everyone knows about, at any rate, he was the only one to make that gesture. He didn't like slavery; he just couldn't figure out a way to deal with the issue during the founding of the nation.
2. He stepped down as President after two terms.
If for nothing else, Washington is one of the most important men in modern history (or all of history) for that one simple thing: He stepped down!

Let me make something clear, here: This stepping down that Washington did; it had never been done before. Ever. There was no precedent. Period. Men with power did not give it up, not voluntarily. And, yet, Washington, being invested in the viability of the nation he had helped to create, and wanting to set an example of a peaceful transfer of power, chose to not run for a third term as President of the United States.

Sure, you can say that it was because he never wanted to be President anyway, because he didn't, but President was better than King, which is what everyone wanted to make him. They also wanted to call him things like "your majesty," but he worked it down to "Mr. President." In truth, the reasons don't matter. All that matters is that he DID. He did this one thing that changed the world.

Because it did change the world.

It created the precedent that in the United States we could, and we would, have a peaceful transference of power and abide by the will of the people in regards to whom is elected.There has not ever been a President who did not step down if he lost the election.

By extension, we have never had a candidate who did not concede if he lost the election.

Some people seem to be wondering why it matters that Trump won't say that he will concede if he doesn't win. They don't think it matters, evidently. But... And this is a huge BUT!
Do you think that if he's not willing to concede the election if he loses that, if he were to win, that he would willingly step out of power when his term is over? His particular brand of powermongering is dangerous, and it goes against everything, everything, that the United States has been built around.

Even if I agreed with Trump and his ideas, this one thing would be enough to stop me from voting for him. He's too much like watching Palpatine take control of the Senate in the prequels and, well, I'm not into the idea of an Emperor Trump. Or an Emperor anyone.

Star Wars: A Discussion (Episode IV)

I suppose we're up to the place where we finally start talking about The Force Awakens, but this still isn't a review. Not, yet, anyway.

If you've read the previous posts in this series, it will come as no surprise to you that the lead up to The Force Awakens was a big deal in my household. We had our tickets not long after they started pre-selling them, so something like a month in advance. My oldest son, who is working on a suit of stormtrooper armor so that he can join the 501st, spent the last year pouring over every tiny little detail released about the movie and engaging in all kinds of theories about it.

I pretty much constantly had to tell him not to tell me the stuff he was finding out online, because I wanted to go into the movie with as little knowledge as possible about it. I already knew more than I wanted to know about the general premise of the story because of all of the Star Wars lore I accumulated back in the 90s before Lucas announced that he was going to make the prequels.

My younger son fell somewhere in between us. He wasn't searching out information, but he wasn't opposed to being told things, either.

It's an interesting thing watching an event draw closer for someone who has been highly anticipating it. See, although my oldest son saw all of the prequels in the theater, he didn't really remember doing that. He was only three for Phantom Menace and, although he was old enough to remember going to see Revenge at the theater, all he really remembered of that was all of the people in costume while we were waiting in line to get in. His memories were all about the movies themselves because he'd seen them so many times on DVD; he had no real memories of the experience of going to see them.

That's not like me, I remember the experience of going to see A New Hope the first time I went to see it. I remember everything about it, including how badly I needed to go to the bathroom and being unwilling to do that because I was so enraptured by the movie. But, then, it was a full year before I got to see it again, so I really had to hold onto that one memory very tightly. And I did, too.

Yes, those were the years before, even, VHS players.

But it hasn't been like that with my kids. Their lives have been full of Star Wars pretty much from the start, so all three of them were very much looking forward to going to see a new Star Wars movie while being old enough to be able to remember the experience of going to do that, my oldest son most of all. You could see the tension growing in him as we got closer, especially in that last week. He was both excited and scared, scared that it wouldn't be as good as he hoped.

He's the reason I saw it twice on "opening" night, Thursday, December 17. We already had our tickets for the 7:00 show, but, back at the end of the summer, he picked up a job at a movie theater. They were doing an actual midnight showing for the employees, and he could bring two people: that was me and his brother. Let me just say: Midnight is not a kind time when you got up at 5:00am. Even for Star Wars.

So... We all went to the 7:00 show, and we all really liked it, but... Okay, so, my wife and my daughter just straight up liked the movie. Enough for them to want to see it a second time (which we did, making my third) and for my daughter to want, now, to go see it again. Neither of them are much into re-watching movies. After coming out of the first showing, my sons and I all felt like we needed to see it again before being able to properly evaluate it. Which is not to say that there were any doubts about likability. But the movie is fast. It's really non-stop action, like a roller coaster, which I'm sure is what Disney was striving for, and there's no time during the movie to ever stop and think about what you're seeing.

That was actually what I said to my wife when we came out of the theater, my only mark against it on that initial viewing: It was too fast. That one thing distracted from the Star Wars-ness of the film, much like the new Doctor Who series is also too fast. Don't get me wrong, I really like the new Doctor Who series and David Tennant comes in at second on my favorite Doctor list (though Capaldi is really excellent, too, and has the potential to hit #2), but, sometimes (frequently), I miss the thoughtfulness of the older shows. I miss that problems were solved by thinking, not by running around (the running is a big deal in the new series). [Part of what I like about Capaldi is that he has brought back some of the thoughtfulness.]

There is a lot of running in The Force Awakens.

Okay, so, what I'm going to say right now is that I like the movie. A lot. But it still only comes in at 4 of 7 of the Star Wars movies, maybe 5 of 7. One of the top 3 is one of the prequels. Next post, we'll talk about why.

Star Wars: A Discussion (Episode II)

Star Wars fans of my generation (and older) tend to have an inordinate dislike of the prequels. I blame the fans. "But how can it be their fault for not liking the movies?" you might ask. "Isn't it Lucas' fault for not making something that the fans would like?" Well, no, it's not Lucas' fault. It's the fault of fans for, basically, assuming ownership of something that doesn't belong to them. Unwarranted expectations will get you every time.

I want to go back to something I said in my last post, that thing about how I never quit on Star Wars. I think this is a significant point. See, I was there when Zahn's books came out, so to speak. I bought them in hardback. Because I was into comic books, I have first printings of the Dark Empire series from Dark Horse. For a while, I was reading all of the Star Wars novels for no other reason than that they were Star Wars, and I think reading them taught me a lesson.

See, some of them... well, some of them sucked. And sucked hard. In fact, I'll just say it: Kevin Anderson's Jedi Academy trilogy was so awful that not only will I never read anything else by Anderson, but they broke me from reading anymore Star Wars novels. The lesson was not that some things that "are" Star Wars won't be good; it was about expectations. I somehow expected that these things would be great just because they were set in  the Star Wars universe. Well, I didn't really expect that, not in my head, but on some emotional level that is what I expected.

Of course, what I wanted was to be taken back to that feeling I had when I was seven when that star destroyer first "passed over my head" and made me see the world in a way I had never seen it before. But you can't have that feeling again. You can't go back to seven and experience that thing in that same way ever again. You can't have your eyes opened for the first time more than once. That can be a hard thing to learn, but Kevin Anderson beat it into me with his horrid books.

So it was that when Lucas announced the prequels I determined to have no expectations. Or as little as possible, at any rate. I knew these weren't going to be the same movies. I knew the time period they were going to be set in, and I knew what they were about. My goal was twofold: to avoid finding out stuff about the movie beforehand (because I had known absolutely nothing about Star Wars when I was seven and my grandmother took me to see it) and to not have expectations. I already knew where expectations would get me.

Which is not to say that I was not excited. I was right there with everyone else camping out for tickets for the opening midnight show of The Phantom Menace and camping again to get in so as not to have to sit in the front corner of the theater.

Also, I was in no way disappointed with The Phantom Menace. Not even with Jar Jar. He's funny. He makes me laugh. And my kids like him.

I want to make a point here: I was seven when I first saw Star Wars. I was a kid. I'm not saying that I loved Star Wars because I was a kid, but, essentially, Star Wars was a movie for young people, not for adults. There were toys because the target audience was kids. When I went into Phantom Menace, I wanted to go in with as much of that as possible. I wanted to see it with eyes that were fresh and young and with no preconceptions. Part of that was looking at it through the lens of my kids. Well, just one kid, at the time, but each of my kids has loved Jar Jar as they have come into contact with him. Lucas said Jar Jar was a character in the movie specifically for kids, and, from that standpoint, he totally works. So, really, the problem with the Jar Jar-haters is not actually Jar Jar, it's the people who hate him. And, you know what, it shows your age and your unwillingness to be a kid again, as you were when you first saw Star Wars.

And that takes me back to my opening statement: the problem with the prequels is "the fans," the original fans.
It's the truth, and you should just get over yourselves. You don't own Star Wars and Lucas doesn't owe you anything. Didn't owe you anything.
And, actually, you, all of you, should be ashamed of yourselves, because it's because of you that Lucas sold Star Wars to Disney.
/end rant

Yes, I like the prequels. Love them, even. Sure, in my list of Star Wars movies, they are not my favorite, but one of them does come in at #3, and they are Star Wars, so even the one at #6 is way ahead of most every other movie out there.

That being said, there is one problem I have with the prequels: the death of Padme during childbirth. The problem is, as it worked out, that kind of had to be the way that happened but it doesn't fit the previous narrative of Leia having gone with her mother when the twins were split up at birth, and it doesn't fit with Leia's memories of her mother from when she was a young child. So, see, despite the fact that I can see that it Padme's death is necessary from a story perspective, it doesn't work for me because of my own expectation that she should have taken Leia away and raised her in hiding for several years before her death.

But that's it. That one thing is the only issue I have with the prequels.

I don't want to get into anything about how I feel about The Force Awakens, right now, but, regardless of that, I wish that Lucas was the one making them. Just as I wanted to see his story for the prequels, I wanted to see his story for the sequel trilogy, too. As it turns out, despite what Disney said they would do (which was to follow Lucas' original story), according to Lucas, they have strayed from that, and that disappoints me.

But more on that later.

"Danger, Will Robinson!" (Or Story Gimmicks We Can Do Without) Part 2

Part 2: How bad is bad?

As an author, one of the things you have to do is convince your readers that the bad guy is a bad guy. The reader has to know that the hero is in real and imminent danger. There's a short cut for this that, really, I just hate. Every time I see it. Unfortunately, I have to blame it on George Lucas and Darth Vader.

Vader is easily one of the most menacing villains ever created. Ever. Total aside:
I'm sure this is one of the things that lies at the heart of many people's dislike of the prequels. No one really wanted to know that Vader had once been a lovable kid and whiny teenager. They wanted to believe he'd been the kind of kid that set banthas on fire and pulled the legs off of womp rats. But the point was that he had been just a normal kid. The lesson being, as Yoda showed Luke in Empire, that anyone (everyone) has the capacity to turn evil. To go to the dark side.

The thing is is that no one ever doubts that Vader is a bad guy. From the moment he steps through the smoke filled airlock littered with bodies, everyone knows this dude is bad. If you didn't know it, the casual way he tosses aside the dead Captain Antilles, whom he has just choked to death while holding him suspended several feet off the ground with one arm! proves it. I could go on.

Still, no one really knew just how Bad Vader is until The Empire Strikes Back. I mean, we all know he'll kill his enemies without a second thought. Even casually. Without regard. But when he force chokes Admiral Ozzel via hologram for messing up the Hoth invasion (which he wasn't really to blame for, because it was the probe droid that had alerted the rebels), that's when we know. Really know. Vader is BAD. He's so bad he'll kill, well, anyone. The lesson here is that, man, you really don't want to piss off Vader.

But Lucas didn't do any of those things to prove to us how bad Vader is. We know. We've always known. Since that first moment at the airlock. Everything else flows out of just how BAD Vader is. Somewhere in there, though, the lesson that was communicated was that if you want to prove just how bad your villain is, have him kill some of his underlings. Usually without any legitimate provocation.

Here's the one I hate the most:
Main bad dude is trying to kill some good dude(s). He decides the way to do this is by using some weapon that has a mass effect. Like a bomb. Or a missile. Something  that will make a huge explosion and kill everyone in the area. The problem is that the good dude is fighting the underlings of the main bad dude. He shows his disregard for his men by ordering that the device that will cause a huge explosion be used to kill the good dude(s) and, thus, his own men.

Okay, so he's a bad guy. We get it. However, he really needs to kill the good dude(s), and his men are expendable. And in the way. But, wait! We're not finished, yet. Because that's not bad enough. Nooo! Because you can (almost) make a case for what he's doing. He needs to get rid of the good dude(s), and the men that are fighting the good dude(s) are probably going to die anyway while failing at their job of killing the good dude(s). So we have a bad guy, but, really, is that bad enough? Evidently not.

Invariably, what follows here is that some well meaning underling stands up to the main bad dude and says, "But, wait, sir; that will kill all of our men, too!" A legitimate concern. I mean, when you see your boss killing your fellow employees, it doesn't say much for your job security, now does it? How can you rule the universe alongside the big bad dude if you're dead? Underling wants to know that the main bad dude really does care and that he just didn't realize he'd be killing his own men. He wants the guy to say, "Oh! Well, we can't do that. Cancel that order."

But that's not what happens. Ever. If some guy stands up and tells the big bad that he's about to kill his own men, the thing that always happens is that the big bad pulls out a gun (or appropriate equivalent) and turns and shoots his underling in the head. This is usually followed by some sort of question along these lines, "Does anyone else have anything to say?" Of course, all the other underlings busily return to their tasks. You know, of making sure their co-workers end up dead.

There are two main reasons I hate this:
1. It's lazy writing. This almost always happens sometime in  the first third of the story. It's just a short cut so that we can see that the bad guy really is a BAD guy. But it just doesn't work for me. It's too done, now. It doesn't make the bad guy any badder. Really, it's enough for me to know he's the bad guy. It's enough for me to know that he wants to kill the good guy. I don't care if he's so bad that he's willing, or even eager, to kill his own men. It's a short cut that doesn't go anywhere. It's not like the audience cares if he's going to off his own men. If you want us to believe that your villain is really vile, build it up. Don't use it as a short cut.

2. It's completely unrealistic. Seriously, if you knew your boss was willing to kill you to achieve his own agenda, would you keep working for him? Well, maybe, if it was just you that thought that, but if everyone believed that? People would be bailing at the first chance they got. Historically, we know this is true. There have been times when the means of various armies of motivating their men was "go fight our enemy or we'll kill you." The role officers played was to stand at the back and shoot people trying to run away. The men would fight because they might survive against the enemy, which was better odds than they had if they tried to run. However, they deserted in droves every chance they got. The bad guys that resorted to these methods never succeeded because they couldn't keep any men working for them. In fact, bad guys that did things like disregard the safety of their men often got killed in their sleep (or on the toilet) by those same men. So it doesn't work for me when an author expects me to believe that underlings will go blithely about their business while their boss randomly culls them.

Of course, there are other ways to short cut the villain. Undermine his villain-ness by having him do senseless things. Often, it's to have him go out of his way to kill civilians or other people not involved in the story. And that can be okay. The trick is to not resort to, well, for lack of a better way of putting it, senseless violence to sell your villain as a bad guy. I mean that in the sense that the violence needs to have a reason for the villain. Let me say that another way: The villain must have a reason for his behavior. It doesn't matter if it's a reason that the audience doesn't understand, but it must be the villain's reason, and it must be consistent. Vader is a great villain not because he kills his underlings but because he kills those that fail him. Failure is not tolerated. Vader has a reason for the things he does as opposed to doing things to fulfill the reasons of the author.

If a hero can only be as "good" as his villain, then give me good, well thought out villains. Don't give me cardboard villains doing cliche things like shooting their underlings for airing a legitimate concern.