What do Jar Jar Binks, Yoda, and Gollum have in common? It’s not what you think.
Now, I know I write a lot about the Star Wars Prequels, which is funny because they’re pretty unpopular as Star Wars movies go. The reason I write about them so much, though, is because there’s so much in them, both good and bad, that they are excellent things to dissect for the purpose of studying storytelling. Whether you love or hate them, there’s an incredible amount of stuff to get into. That makes them more teachable in many ways than, say, Lord of the Rings, which gets almost everything right. So the subject of this analysis will be about annoying characters, and how to make them work for a story and not against it.
We’ve all heard the complaints about Jar Jar Binks: he’s annoying, he talks funny, he does stupid things, he doesn’t add anything to the movie, he’s for kids, etc. Those are all true, except, arguably, the one about him not adding anything to the movie. But that is also where the problem occurred. The role of Jar Jar Binks in Episode I: The Phantom Menace, was actually central to what George Lucas was trying to do. And it’s obvious in the way his joining their team, mirrors Anakin’s joining as well.
This is where I’ll get into Yoda for a second. Yoda, when he was introduced in The Empire Strikes Back, was being sort of git too. Of course it was a test of Luke’s character; Yoda was sort of a Buddhist Jedi at that point, and his behavior was much like that of the Dalai Lama or any Buddhist priest, finding joy in simple things, delighting in nature, and in games, and in being open to experiences. He tests Luke, not telling Luke that he is, in fact, the Jedi Master he’s come searching for, and Luke fails repeatedly, missing every opportunity to show the bizarre little guy some basic warmth, empathy, and compassion, instead being frustrated, closed off, and antagonistic,
The joy of the Dagobah sequences in Empire is in the way that it demonstrates the nature of choice: Yoda, in remaining upbeat and positive, is enjoying himself, while Luke, being combative and impatient, sulks his way through the entire experience, makes an ass of himself, bangs his head, and nearly loses his chance at training with this great Jedi Master. All because he’s turned too far inward to see what’s right in front of him. One of Mark Hamill’s finest moments in the trilogy comes at the instant Luke realizes the little guy he’s been fussing at all evening is Yoda: you can actually see the veil of stupidity lift from Luke’s face.
When you watch all of this for the first time, as a kid, not knowing who Yoda is beforehand, you actually side with Luke. If you’re anything like I was, though, you figure it out before Luke does, and then you start wanting to smack the crap out of him. Upon repeat viewings, you have fun, viewing it from Yoda’s side, knowing Luke is being an idiot. Well, the lesson of Yoda, the lesson that you shouldn’t judge someone by their appearance, that the unlikely person is sometimes exactly the person you want to meet, is also the lesson of Smeagol / Gollum.
Gollum was a villain of course, but JRR Tolkien knew, when he wrote Lord of the Rings, that he believed in the value of all life. Gandalf says this to Frodo in one of the most beautiful ways I can imagine. Frodo says it’s a pity that Bilbo didn’t kill Gollum when he had the chance.
“It was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand! Many that live deserve death. And some that die, deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment; for even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part still to play, for good or ill, before all this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of Men.”
Gollum of course went on to be a truly invaluable guide for Frodo and Sam… and an immeasurable pain in the ass. Only at the end, however, when all hope was lost, did Gollum’s true place in the tale reveal itself. And in case you are the one person in the Western Hemisphere who hasn’t seen the movies or read the books, I shall not spoil it here, but I will say only that if not for Gollum, the quest would have failed after all.
This theme, present in both LOTR and SW, is in fact a major theme in much of the fantasy genre. It is also a deeply Christian theme. Jesus, after all, associated with not just fishermen, but tax collectors and whores. He saw the value in people, saw beyond the work they did or the attitudes others had about them. And even Judas Iscariot, that betrayer, had to play his role in getting Jesus to the cross. Judas didn’t know he was just playing his part; the other Disciples were shocked and dismayed, but Jesus knew it was all part of the plan.
So, let’s talk Jar Jar. Jar Jar is unique among these examples in that he isn’t as compelling or mercurial as Yoda, he isn’t a villain like Gollum, nor pitiable like Gollum; Jar Jar is just plain old annoying. But I believe with a few storytelling tricks, he could have worked just fine as written and performed.
As with my earlier article about Anakin being a creeper on purpose, I think the main problem with Jar Jar is that George Lucas forgot to give the audience permission to be annoyed with the character. Now, I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right: you didn’t need permission to be annoyed with Jar Jar, you were annoyed with him anyway. However, here’s the thing about permission from the storyteller. It tells you that you’re SUPPOSED to have the reaction that you have, and that it’s part of the storyteller’s plan, and when you know that, you know that by being annoyed with the orange frog man, you’re still engaged with the movie. When you don’t feel that you have permission to be annoyed, being annoyed takes you out of the movie as you assume you’re just supposed to like this floppy, derpy, spaz of a character, and you rightly feel insulted by that presumption.
So, where did Tio Jorge go wrong? It’s simple, really. He wrote himself into a bit of a corner. Jar Jar first interacts with Qui-Gon Jinn, who, as a seasoned Jedi Knight, and follower of the Living Force, recognizes potential usefulness in Jar Jar fairly early on. I think George knew he had a problem, because Jar Jar’s first interaction with Qui-Gon was grabbing him and nearly getting them killed, and then, amidst his goofy thank you, Qui-Gon shuts him down by saying, “you almost got us killed, are you brainless?”
“I speak!”
“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent. Now get out of here.”
It’s funny, but it’s not enough, because Qui-Gon, as the wise mentor character, is only allowed to get a little bit cross. He can’t show the level of annoyance with the character that some of the audience is feeling. The other side of that is, if you show characters hating on Jar Jar enough, he will become a sympathetic figure. It’s a win-win. But Jedi don’t hate. Obi-Wan comes along moments later followed by a few battle droids riding STAPs, and Jar Jar starts gushing all over again as Qui-Gon easily dispatches them. Here Obi-Wan, ignoring him, asks Qui-Gon, “What’s this?”
“A local.”
For the rest of the film’s first act, Obi-Wan is obviously having to work to put up with Jar Jar, while Qui-Gon, if slightly vexed, does a better job of maintaining his cool. But, Obi-Wan, though still a Padawan Learner, is, like Qui-Gon, a Jedi – and Jedi are to be defined by their compassion and understanding. To that end neither of them gets to really speak for the audience – because the audience, mostly, is not made up of monks.
And that’s the problem in a nutshell. The audience needs a character who speaks for them. More than one is fine, but a minimum of one is required, and the Prequels don’t have any. I think the beauty of the classic characters from the OT is that they all speak for us at various times. Luke, in ANH, is any teenager on a journey into the unknown. Han Solo is the skeptic, acerbic rogue, questioning everything and basically assuming the rest of the characters are pretty full of crap. And then Princess Leia, wittier still, takes charge because although Han Solo thinks Luke is a bozo, Leia knows they’re BOTH bozos, and they need her to kick their butts in the right direction at any time. Which I think is the basic nature of Han and Luke’s friendship: the bozos unionized.
I actually like the prequel characters. I quote Qui-Gon Jinn as often as I quote anyone. He basically never says anything that isn’t resoundingly true. Anakin and Padme, as discussed in the aforementioned article, are actually fairly layered characters who never really get the chance to shine, and much like Jar Jar, it’s because we don’t have a way to access them fully. They are knights and politicians, dignified, reserved, formal in speech and general demeanor. While Jar Jar, in TPM, was a counterpoint to this, he doesn’t speak for the audience at all and therefore isn’t much help. Anakin in TPM, as a kid, probably works for the younger children in the audience. He likely is very accessible to them. For the rest of us, he’s just some kid, and that again hangs us out to dry.
I think in some way, Obi-Wan is supposed to be the skeptic, but he doesn’t really fit in that role as written, and Lucas knew it. Jar Jar is supposed to make the point about the Jedi putting up with his crap because he’s there for a reason, but although Qui-Gon expresses this in some fashion to Obi-Wan, what passes for conflict is never particularly engaging, and Qui-Gon’s teaching on the matter never more than perfunctory.
The whole device mostly occurs just so that Qui-Gon can bring Anakin into the fold and we don’t think it’s as weird as we otherwise might: which is to say it tells us who Qui-Gon is and how he sees people he meets. Without a way in for the audience, though, most viewers simply won’t care.
What the story needed, was a Han Solo. Not an actual Han Solo, but the archetype. The rogue. A character who can question Jar Jar’s usefulness much more aggressively; a character who can question Anakin more meangingfully than Obi-Wan’s “why do I sense we’ve picked up another useless life form?” A character who can delight in actively trying to damage Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s calm. This would do wonders for the film regardless of whether this character is a modification of an existing character (for instance, a less-disciplined Obi-Wan) a replacement for an existing character (in place of Jar Jar, for instance) or in addition to the existing characters.
I’d make a “Phantom Menace: Special Edition” joke here, but Lucas is retired.
