Film Review: Star Wars: Episode II – Attack Of The Clones

You really have to hand it to the Star Wars prequels: what they get so disastrously wrong in terms of story, character, and performances on the whole from their star-studded casts, they get right – quite impressively, re-evaluating this film now as an older, wiser, ex-Star Wars obsessive – in expansive, consummately well-realised world-building, impeccable detail in visual and sound design, and a completely unhealthy obsession with bleedin’ trade regulations (yes, youth of today, if lightsabers and bounty hunters don’t do it for you, then trade blockades most certainly will).

Attack of the Clones has many flaws – the script is comprehensively awful, signposting is a constant annoyance, and Anakin (Hayden Christensen) unashamedly wears a rat tail – and its smattering of positive elements don’t make up for them. However, you’d be hard pushed to find anyone that still isn’t moved by John Williams’ iconic score over that initial credits scroll, or whose heart doesn’t flutter at the overwhelming currency of wipe transitions, thrilling-if-mildly-shonky action sequences, and corny, laboured exchanges that are fundamental to the series. Despite being unwieldy and overblown, the enduring vision of the Star Wars saga is still alive in its fifth iteration; and, gosh darn it George Lucas, if it’s not hard to hate you for it.

Taking place ten years after Episode I,  Attack of the Clones sees Anakin Skywalker – now a (particularly angsty) Jedi Padawan, under the tutelage of an oppressively wise Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) – assigned to the protection detail of Galactic Senator Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman), a woman he has been secretly in love with for a decade (though he makes no bones about hiding it), and with whom he soon shares a forbidden romance (one of the film’s more unsettling developments, as all he seems to do is relentlessly fawn over her until she kind of has to decide to like him – you gross GL). Meanwhile, Obi-Wan is hot on the trail of a bounty hunter attempting to kill the Senator, a secret clone army, and the elusive Count Dooku (Christopher Lee), a former Jedi and separatist from the Galactic Republic (pseudo-politics in space – it’s exhilarating) who may have nefarious plans in store.

The greatest detractor is by far the writing, which seems to be comprised solely of flighty rhetoric and some particularly erroneous conjecture (Anakin’s skill as a Jedi is often trumpeted, with him being referred to on one occasion as “the greatest of all the Jedi,” despite all he’s done by this point being successfully navigate puberty and lose his lightsaber, in the films anyway). The cast drool each tepid line mindlessly, with Lucas’ direction and the general weak sauce of the dialogue conspicuously limiting their performances to a series of half-hearted physical gaffes (unless it’s Hayden Christensen, in which case he’s just genuinely awful at acting – how they pinned a legacy of eminent villainy on that boy I do not know). The characters are stereotypes at best; people say “m’lady”; Yoda is CGI; Jar Jar Binks is in it; etc, etc.

Nonetheless, these faults inhabit a faultlessly realised world. An intense overuse of chromakeying aside (many scenes are wrought with ghostly halos surrounding everything), the visual effects are, on the whole, spectacular, and the design of each locale – be it bustling ultra-metropolises, desolate plains, or idyllic rivieras – is intricately realised. Further credible layers are added with the distinctive sound design – just listen to those ‘seismic charges’ in the clip above – with each thing existing within the diegetic world having its own uniquely satisfying audio presence. Though the cinematography may be somewhat pedestrian – Lucas seems reluctant to demonstrate any flair in this field – the rest of Clones‘ formal elements are fairly exemplary. If anything, this is reason enough for the bitter taste in our mouth at the end of the film: we have seen a world in the guise of that of the original trilogy, one so beloved and rendered so perspicuously, and yet it is empty; flavourless; full of debates, trade agreements, and lines like “You wanna buy some death sticks?”. At least we’ll always have the score.

Rating: 5/10

Words by Tom Grantham
@_cryangosling