The Best ‘Star Wars’ Movie Isn’t What You Think

Last Thursday was May The 4th, aka Star Wars Day, and then yesterday was Revenge Of The 6th. I suppose because of this, and because The Mandalorian just ended, and because Star Wars remains—miraculously—one of the most important fantasy stories to me, I’ve been thinking about the original trilogy a lot lately.

The OT is my favorite out of all the Star Wars films and shows and other related content (books, games, etc.) Some other stuff comes close. Andor is as good but doesn’t have the sentimental value. There are a lot of really excellent video games including the new Star Wars Jedi: Survivor. If I had to pick books, it would be the Thrawn Trilogy by Timothy Zahn.

But all this thinking has led me to something of a revelation. I hear people say, when discussing the original trilogy, that they can’t pick because they view all three movies as just one long movie, kind of like how The Lord Of The Rings is actually just one book split up into three parts. I think that’s totally valid, but it misses something fundamental about the structure of the three films.

The first, originally just called Star Wars, is quite a lot different than the next two. It wasn’t until the story grew into a trilogy that they went back and called it A New Hope, and then later they were given episodic numbers IV, V and VI when Lucas decided they’d all be part of a much longer (originally 12-part) series of films. But the important thing is that the first Star Wars film does not exist as part of a planned trilogy of films. Instead, it’s a standalone story that could have—in an alternate timeline—been the only Star Wars movie and still ended with a satisfying conclusion.

Think about it: A New Hope tells the story of Luke Skywalker from his humble origins to his victorious triumph over the Empire and the destruction of the Death Star. Luke goes on his Hero’s Journey and by the time the credits roll, he and his buddies are all heroes. The princess gives them medals. The rebellion defeats the Empire and everyone lives happily ever after. Even that rogue Han Solo came back to help his friends, because he’s not just a smuggler—he’s a smuggler with a heart of gold.

Then, well, the Empire strikes back. Between the release and huge surprise success of Star Wars and what came next, a lot changed. In the famous Obi-Wan Kenobi vs Darth Vader fight scene, Obi-Wan calls his old friend “Darth” as though it’s his actual first name. It’s not until later that we learn that “Darth” is in fact a title bestowed upon Sith lords (Darth Maul, Darth Sidious and so forth). I always laugh at this part of the first Star Wars because it’s so clear that this wasn’t planned out in the first place, because of course Obi-Wan would never call him that. He’d say “Vader” or, if he was being cheeky, Anakin.

So I consider Star Wars something of a rough draft. Lucas and his team made a great movie and only after it was a hit did they go back and devise the next two parts to the trilogy. The next two parts—The Empire Strikes Back and The Return Of The Jedi—tell a coherent story with a beginning, middle and end. In many ways, A New Hope is more like a prequel to this story, which is the heart of all Star Wars. Luke is now more experienced when our journey begins, but still not a strong user of the Force. He fails—almost dying on Hoth, his weakness showing on Dagobah—and by the end of Empire he’s maimed, his friend has been taken captive and the Empire looks stronger than ever.

He also learns that the man who killed his mentor, the second most powerful man in all the galaxy, is his father. Empire ends on a despairing note. Our heroes are beaten, staggered, down for the count. But not down for good.

Return Of The Jedi brings Luke back as the last Jedi Knight, fully trained and far more powerful and wise. He rescues Han with the help of Leia and the rest of the gang, and then they turn their sights on the Empire. In some ways, the final showdown on Endor and with the rebel fleet against the Death Star is a redo of the final act of A New Hope, and I’ve made fun of it for that in the past. I now realize that this actually makes sense if you think of the first film as a rough draft. Now Luke—and Lucasfilm—are returning to finish what they started, only this time they’re going to do it right.

Luke realizes on Dagobah two things when he returns to find Yoda dying. First, that Leia is his sister and that the Force is in her, too. That even should he perish, the Jedi Order can live on in her. This gives him the strength to do what he now realizes he must: Go to Vader, his father, and try to convince him to turn away from the Dark Side. (I was going to type “Turn toward the Light Side” but nobody says the Light Side. Perhaps the Left Hand Of Darkness Side?)

In any case, the most important, most powerful scene in all of Star Wars takes place when Luke once again faces Vader, this time with the Emperor looking on. The ensuing fight is one of the most gripping scenes in movie history. Luke fights, almost giving into his rage and pain and hatred . . . and then he stops. He casts aside his lightsaber and appeals to his father’s love. Palpatine sees this as weakness and begins to torture the young Jedi with Force lightning.

But it isn’t weakness. Love, it turns out, is the one thing the Emperor never counted on. We see it even beneath the mask, when Vader dies and Anakin wakens from his long slumber. When he moves forward, broken and weary, and lifts his master up above him, throwing him over the edge into the abyss. Saving his son.

His son, saving him.

It’s so powerful. It’s such a perfect conclusion to Luke’s arc, and to Anakin’s (which doesn’t need the prequels to exist fully here in the original trilogy).

This is why I’ve come to view The Empire Strikes Back and The Return Of The Jedi not just as two movies that I love equally, but actually as one film. Sure, it’s a two-part film, but its beginning is on Hoth and its ending is on Endor. It begins with despair, with the rebels running from the overwhelming power of the Empire. It ends with song and dance and joy as the Ewok campfires burn and Luke and Han and Leia and C-3PO and R2-D2 and Chewbacca and Lando and all the rest stand around, victorious.

The credits roll and they all live happily ever after, because everything that comes later is a lie. A bad dream, best forgotten. The prequel trilogy, the sequel trilogy, just fan-fiction that misses the egregiously misses the point and fails to capture the spirit of the original films, at times even undermining what made them so great and so perfect just the way they were—before George Lucas went back and edited in new CGI scenes and dances and a young Anakin Force ghost and all the other crimes against cinema he committed before Disney got its greedy paws on Star Wars.

For these two films—or this one two-part film—Star Wars was perfect.

I discuss this further in my latest video on YouTube, which you can watch below:

What do you think? Does this make sense? Let me know on Twitter or Facebook.

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