The true hero of Star Wars

Chewbacca is the Hero of Star Wars

Who is the Star of Star Wars?

The Real Star? Who is the story really about?

Let’s look at the contenders…

Luke:

Orphaned on Tatootine, raised by his step Uncle and Aunt.

They are murdered by the central government while he is out chasing Droids…

Droids on the run from the central government.

He witnesses their bodies and decides to join ranks with an elderly hermit who is a sort of monk. To be fair he has sort of known about the monk for quite a while but recently his attention has been focussed due to a hologram of a rather attractive young lady in distress…(this lady turns out to be his sister who he lip kisses…but that is all alright because he didn’t know).

This young rebel, arguably radicalised by an elderly fighting monk who sees the world in black and white goes on to destroy a space station, killing the hundreds and thousands of people/ lifeforms on board…

N.B. a lot of widows and orphans were made that day.

Han Solo:

Smuggler who loves successfully deceiving others.

Was unwilling to rescue his future wife unless there was financial reward.

Drops his cargo at the first sign of trouble  (Jabba The Hut via Creedo).

Relies of good fortune and a few simple tricks….

Appears on the surface to be motivated by money.

Darth Vader:

No Dad.

Born into slavery.

Taken from slavery into the clergy…(denied love), Mother dies in his arms, manipulated constantly by powerful Sith Lord.

Sacrifices himself to save son.

(Yes…I know…kills younglings & eradicates the Jedi….apart from that)

Leia:

Born into wealth and privilege.

Rises in central government.

Has inner agenda, desires more freedom.

Leads fight against central government.

Falls in love with scoundrel smuggler.

Has complex future relationships.

Has difficult deciding on her accent.

Chewbacca:

Is only understood by a handful of people.

Has long life span in relation to humans.

Is unwaveringly loyal.

Is brave and fierce in combat.

Generally wins at chess.

Can protect others even when heartbroken E.G. Han Solo embedded in carbonite.

Conclusion

We could go on…Boba Fett…let’s not start on Boba Fett…poor bugger.

Obi Wan…we don’t know much about his Dad…but I’m guessing he was harsh….Mother…missing/ absent or uninterested.

So who is the real hero of the piece?

Well obviously Chewbacca.

Although on the face of it Darth Vader has the best ‘mitigating circumstances’ of all the characters…frankly he needs them.

We cannot brush aside the heinous acts of mass murder committed despite the clear problematic upbringing of the culprit. Yes yes yes, there was a deathbed repentance… these are though all too common when a dying criminal with nowhere left to run is faced with the ultimate solution.

Leia is out of it because she got the silver spoon for 20 years…nobody else did.

Not knocking her efforts and perhaps if the question was ‘which was the best leader from Star Wars?’ She might get a look in.

Solo is brilliant, some love him, some want to be him.

He walks the precipice of acceptable and criminal on a level of mass shared approval in terms of group consciousness…though on the level of actual law and order ‘in story’ legality…he is a criminal.

In a way he is the hero, but then again….he follows his luck, playing his cards how he gets them. His lifestyle is attractive but not necessarily inspiring. We may all love to be Solo’s good mate…but only 1 is strong enough to be his 1^st Mate….

Chewbacca is selfless…yeah he can get spooked in a Death Star…true he doesn’t always remember to lock in the artillery fire on first asking.

But Chewbacca will fight in all conditions, carry fragmented fallen comrades on his back and fix them in-between been tortured.

He will briefly wail but then keep a stiff upper hairy lip up in the face of loss and be confident acting like Tarzan in the midst of small furry creatures without creating the slightest feeling of inappropriateness…

Chewy is an old wise creature…who grew up among old wise creatures.

He could choose to spend his years anywhere but he opts to mix with those who carry a heart of adventure.

Chewy is the true monk…following the ebb and flow of the source of life.

He is a knight who lends his service to the righteous.

He bears suffering and is a bridge between the past and future.

May the Force Bless Chewbacca of the Wookies….Star of Star Wars…

P.S.

Yoda is also quite good…

Trans-humanism in children’s television.

Trans-humanism in children’s television.

Subliminal indoctrination, stagnant creativity or something else?

With my daughter’s fairly recent arrival in the land of seven years old she feels with a certain puffed chest pride that she has now ascended through and beyond the ranks of television aimed at the youngest in our society or to be specific when talking about our house…Cbeebies.

As she cuts her teeth and my parental worry nerves on the more grown up story lines of shows such as Tracy Beaker and meets endless examples of conflict between children and their adult protagonists, I feel some tiny comfort that this new battle front leaves behind Mr Tumble and company in favour of the more grown up CBBC.

Life is in some way is going to be less dumbed down, a little keener. That was my thinking…

However I am very much mistaken. For several reasons.

Firstly, we love Mr Tumble and in fact met his ‘friend’ Justin at my daughter’s former nursery in Brighton. He was fantastic, a great sport and the kids loved him.

Mr Tumble

Moreover…my son Jonny is now one and a half and forging his own Cbeebies bonds with rapidity that outstrips his older sister.

Now you might very well be rolling your eyes and tutting, “turn off the tv man, it is not difficult.”

Let me be clear.

We do.

We favour anything but tv and our daughter is a fully- fledged member of the charging around outdoors club as well as a Brownie and Ballerina.

That said, along with many parents we cannot but help enjoy that quiet time when the glow box is switched on and a kind a peace descends.

But at what cost?

You see something struck me the other day while being a seat for the fixated baby/ toddler Jonny.

Try finding a non live action show on Cbeebies that does not feature animals being humans.

Actually not just animals, also plants, cars and everything else besides.

Here are some examples from today’s schedule, Friday 26^th June.

Timmy Time- a human sheep.

Ra Ra, the noisy Lion- a human lion.

Dino Paws- human dinosaurs.

Buzz and Tell- human, animal toys in a quiz.

Kate and Mim Mim- girl and human rabbit.

Octonauts- multiple human animals in underwater adventures.

Chuggington- human train (in no way ripped off from Thomas the human tank engine)

Rasta Mouse- Rastafarian mouse, noted this show is stand alone in bringing religion to the table.

We are yet to see Hindu Frog, Christian Gerbil or Muslim Aardvark.

Peter Rabbit- Need I say anything?

Tree Fu Tom- Mystic boy and his human animal pals.

3^rd and Bird- Human birds in bow ties singing.

Everything’s Rosie (no it isn’t)

This is by no means and exhaustive list. These are just the shows that I know the content having been dragged through them.

Of course you might quickly respond that this has always and since the birth of children’s television or even children’s media in general been the case. Perhaps that is true to an extent. Though only to an extent and not with the wall to wall pasting that we now experience.

In fairness to the BBC, these programmes are interspersed with various live action productions featuring the Cbeebies cast; Justin, Sid, Poi and so on.

Without exception I find these performers engaging and displaying a level of talent that frankly outstrips the material they are frequently working with.

Cbeebies, a great cast

Furthermore the bedtime story section is outstanding and features some uber A list actors.

It was mind-blowing to see Sir Patrick Stewart or James Mcavoy in the seat (I should point out these stars are not just limited to those that have play X-Men leader Charles Xavier).

Testament to the value all of us including the super famous place in storytelling and delighting our children and/ or grandchildren, Nephews and Nieces.

So what about what I am not saying?

The other shows that don’t sit happily in the mould of my opinion?

I’ll get to them, but first I should explain my problem with this incessant grafting of human attributes on the non-human world.

My main problem with this is not that at some point my son will march up to a dog expect a conversation and get a sharp, bitey shock.

Nor that my daughter will seek the advice of trains or oak trees for pressing future concerns that may require a solution.

It is more about biological positioning.

If we had any doubt that humans were the highest form of life, by the time we reach seven and move on to ‘shouting at adults’ tv we are fully brainwashed into the mind-set that we (people) rule the world and the environment.

Er…we do? Don’t we? What is your beef?

Beef, there we have it a good example. Where does it come from?

The supermarket.

Yes, and beyond that cows.

It isn’t just that we are telling our children that the characters they engage with on their favourite shows will one day by association end up in their digestive tracts. That is a concern and something all parents of meat eating children have to go through, “Daddy, are we eating Timmy?” Shush dear, mint sauce?

Additionally and a greater concern is the imprinting and normalising of this complete divorce from the cycles of life and nature.

This is a very recent thing.

Not 150 years ago when meat would arrive on the table it would be accompanied with ritual and ceremony derived from the process of the hunt.

Nobody eating that meal would have any doubt of the toil and danger associated in the acquisition of the game. This would in most cases include huge deference and gratitude to the animals and an unspoken link to our own mortality and our inevitable return to the earth to ourselves be the food of other creatures.

As Elton so eloquently put it, ‘The Circle of Life.’

This is not just exclusively the realm of animals, the talking lettuces in Mr Bloom’s nurseries may these days arrive magically in cellophane wrapped bags, but this was not always true.

Mr Bloom and talking veg

In the past people would know and appreciate how, when, and by what effort this and all bounty arrived on their plates because the chances were they had a hand in it beyond simply typing in a pin number.

Within this knowledge of food production and familial sustenance was the implied association with seasons and nature.

A world where Somerset grown apples are not flown to South Africa to be waxed and then back to Morrison’s in …Somerset.

These messages of friendly chatty crocodiles and coarse mannered cabbages sinking slowly and deeply into our children’s psyches give a widening idea of dissociation of the real and frankly at times gritty relationships between, humans, animals, the land and oceans.

Human beings used to be seen as part of nature, not sitting above it where the greatest pinnacle we can place on a mighty bear is that it can be likened a cuddly non-threatening middle aged man.

This marsh mallowing of nature is a new thing too, one only has to read the works of Rudyard Kipling to see a different relationship to the wild, even where advanced communication between species is possible. One cannot help but think Disney has a hound in this rabbit chase.

So am I right?

 Is there a strange shadowy agenda to separate our children further and further from nature, make us increasingly helpless and reliant on our masters filling the boxes and cellophane so that we might survive?

I will leave that hanging as there is another point to make, but let me close this by posseting the dreadful and of course ‘impossible’ notion that one day those boxes will be empty.

GM foods fail and there is not enough go around.

What happens then?

Ask the Oak tree? It will I expect be happy that human were finally on the way out!

If I am prepared to put this all down to coincidence and the natural evolution of thought, ideas and human society then I run into my 2^nd point.

We may be witnessing the stagnation of creativity or possibly the furring of the creative editorial filters of the commissioners.

You see there are other shows on Cbeebies far more creative that incidentally do not feature humanized animals.

It is not in my view a coincidence that these shows have in some cases been internationally syndicated and awarded the highest accolades. They are brilliant shows.

These names may be familiar to you;

In the night garden- a heady array of characters based on…well goodness knows what, but the kids love it. The BBC stopped commissioning this show in 2010.

In the night garden

Telly Tubbies- Eh Oh…Stopped in 2001 as with Night Garden this was a Rag Doll production. The good news is that this is coming back, fuel to my view point.

Postman Pat- Remade again and again and still going strong.

Charlie and Lola- Lauren Child’s excellent year 2000 creation of books and adapted shows now 15 years old.

Reading this list one might be forgiven for thinking that there was a creative burst around the turn of the millennium that has now dried up in place of talking animals and objects.

What happens in commissioning meeting?

“Mt Stevens, I’ve got this amazing idea about a boy a hedgehog and a clock.” Sounds boring Pete.

“No Mr Stevens, I haven’t told you the amazing part…the hedgehog is just like another small boy…but hedgehoggy.” Hmmm. Go on.

“Er…and the clock talks too!” Brilliant. Two series please. Wait a minute, what is it called?

“Hodge O Clock.” Genius, have a BAFTA.

Now some people might quite rightly be screaming at me that aside from the home grown BBC talent which I have been at pains to show my gratitude and support for, I am completely overlooking some of the other hot new live action stars currently lighting up Cbeebies shows.

The only reason I don’t put too much cache in these new fledgling performers is that it is early days in their careers and I want to see how they mature as seasoned entertainers.

That said the likes of James Bolan in Grandpa in my pocket and Bernard Cribbins in Old Jack’s Boat seem to have made bright starts. I shall watch their progression with earnest.

Old Jack and not talking dog

Yes yes, the lowest form of wit.

This very much ties into my point that were we are seeing innovation without an animal face it is little but nostalgia on behalf of a commissioner or two rather than surfing the wave of something new and exciting.

The return of The Clangers does little or nothing to dissuade me from this solidifying position.

There is one more example to blow my idea out of the water faster that Old Jack’s Boat and is in fact my son’s absolute favourite, so much so he chirps with excitement when the brilliant opening credits pump.

The Furchester Hotel…

Jim Henson’s creature workshop doing what it has always done, hilarious anarchy.

The Flipping Funny Furchester Hotel

Now at this some readers may well furiously ask, “what the heck? Talking animals! Big Bird! Gonzo’s chickens, come on! Kermit, Miss frigging Piggy?”

Well no.

Henson’s characters are contained in the context of an imagined Muppet World even when that world co-exists and collides with our own.

In fact anyone associated with the shows will report they are absolutely not puppets (controlled by humans), they are Muppets.

Within this world of mayhem there is no illusion that we are looking at an example of the real world, even via a twisted lens.

Far more it is a place of metaphor with sufficient abstraction to enjoy the monstery, muppety fun without worry of ecological quandary. Cookie monsters do not exist (apart from my son Jonny).

So as I steel myself to fight off Tracey Beaker Returns making Grange Hill seem like Song of Praise, I thank the ether that I live in a rural environment.

This somewhat works in my favour and as my boy grows I can easily introduce him to the cycles of nature and make sure he like his sister before him, understands that pedestals invite knocking over and those humans that perch on them are deluded if they think the natural world exists below.

My children will grow up being humble in the face of Mother Nature, accepting flow and fluidity in life as far more appropriate mind-set for survival than the sharp, spikey top of an imagined pyramid.

Perhaps in conclusion I must grit my teeth and fight against this wave of confused messages and open yet more books to find the truly creative as it seems the BBC have abandoned us in favour of easy half smiles.

Finally despite all I may have moaned about in the proceeding paragraphs I want to end on bitter sweet praise for old Auntie which by the way is by no means the only or even main culprit of this. Disney and Warner Bros collectively have without question led the way.

I would take her bizarre fascination with Cbeebies’ melting the human world into and onto that of animal any day over the other beast that lurks in my daughter’s ever quickening lightning fast fingers…it is called I pad…This hypno slab  is mobile!

There be monsters contained within …and they must be stopped because it isn’t just their faces  and paws I’m worried about! 

By Mark W Hunter

CG Why?

CG Why?

The search for something real in a digital world.

As the finale of HBO/ Sky Atlantic’s record breaking, internet crashing Game of Thrones drew to a close recently, we were left with many a troubling fate to consider.

Which of our favourite characters had survived George R Martin’s increasingly adapted storyline to make through to season six?

Who and how many of the leads fell into the abyss of death among the cries of desolation from the throats of this self proclaimed master piece’s millions of fans worldwide?

One such stomach butterfly inducing quandary surrounded the ‘Mother of Dragons’ Daenerys Targaryen portrayed by Emilia Clarke.

Having been spirited away on the wings of her beloved Drogo the mightiest of the three Dragons she somewhat birthed a couple of season’s ago, we find Queen in waiting Daenarys lost and isolated with an injured, spear spiked, massive reptile that doesn’t want to hunt.

Were that not bad enough we are left to contemplate her fate as she is swiftly engulfed in a sea of nomadic horsemen, screaming death rattles and wielding an assortment of gnarly looking weaponry.

It does not look good for Daenerys Targaryen.

Emila Clarke (on the right)

But conversely it does look good for the viewer…really good, and that is perhaps the problem and indeed the opportunity.

Are we in fact willingly sacrificing depth and content for aesthetic style?

As the Queen is encircled by ever increasing numbers of riders, moving at pace in tight formation, one cannot but marvel as the spectacle of dressage comes to life reminding us of the martial roots and ever present application of the skills of these incredible athletes.

How can they be so sharp? So accurate? So precise?

I find myself in awe.

By what magic of Westeros can the producers be sure this valued asset, this silver haired delicate beauty will not be trampled under exuberant hoof?

Indeed the real and untimely injury of the Mother of Dragons would surely lead to the mother of all insurance claims, something one suspects Sky Atlantic Mogul Rupert Murdoch would not appreciate.

The camera pans out, now we have an aerial shot, there are thousands of riders.

This is incredible; the budgets of this show truly have no limits.

What incredible equine choreography we are witnessing.

How many months of training and preparation? I am instantly jealous that I am not among them. Even with my rather feeble riding skills, surely I could lurk at the back somewhere, I can wave a sword, I can shout. Oh where is my bow? Bring me my charger…but wait.

A realisation is dawning upon me.

I’m looking at pixels. Am I not?

The ones up close to Daenarys were real enough; anyone could see that but what about the rest?

Suddenly I’m catapulted to Middle Earth, or Peter Jackson’s New Zealand version of Middle Earth.

Un-commanded for the umpteenth time in the last few years I picture a particular moment in Jackson’s trilogy as it was at the time.

It was the scene that ruined the movie, at least for me.

Not the dreadful sudo west country accent of Sean Astin portraying Sam Gamgee, nor the Orc that runs up to his commander growls a fearsome line looking like a pumped up gym bunny with cornflakes stuck to his face…but something far worse.

Tens of thousands of riders, maybe more ,roaring down the impossible escarpment bring to life J R R Tolkein’s defence of Helm Deep, a final desperate attempt of men and elf to stand against the hordes of Isengard, a last chance to stave off the ruin of life and love in favour of treacly darkness and despair.

My heart sinks a little.

Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers

There is a point while watching when the inescapable thought invaded my psyche…I’m, watching a cartoon. This is not real. They are not riding those horses. Those horses do not exist.

It is fake.

So what? What on middle earth did I expect? It is not real, it is a story.

The scene I am not really enjoying properly is a scene in a film. It is designed to deliver a spectacular blow of narrative that will cause my simple brain to emote certain sensations, nothing more.

I should grow up accept it, buy in anyway…but no.

That will not do I’m afraid.

In a world where Harold Lloyd can swing from a clock putting my heart in my mouth and Jackie Chan can repeat the same type of stunt 60 years later there has to be a place for authenticity.

Harold Lloyd

Jackie Chan

Not a new idea of course.

Who can forget Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof where he unambiguously set out his stall to produce and complete a live action romp devoid of any and all computer generated images?

Death Proof

Well most of us is the likely answer because it was not that good. None the less, the thought process arguably was spot on.

As Jackie Chan so eloquently stated (back in 1980 something) on Jonathan Ross’ Incredibly Strange Film show Special featuring the Asian superstar, “I know when the audience comes to see my films, they come to see Jackie, not a double. Also I like to kind of show off, show the audience what I can do. That is why I decided to do the dangerous stunts myself.”

What would Jackie Chan (back in 1980 something) have made of the looming world of computer graphics? One suspects, not much. It fundamentally detracts from what he would consider ‘good action.’

To drill down into this phenomenon a little further I consider the mindset of a close friend of mine who will regularly cheer himself up by watch the pre scandal Mel Gibson’s Braveheart.

Braveheart

An odd sentiment some might say. Aside from being a pack of historical untruths, Gibson’s epic where every Englishman is a sneering villain is far from a ‘feel good’ movie.

But actually his reasoning is quite sound.

He knows one of the lead horses, he has himself ridden that four hoofed starring stallion and loves to remind himself of a friend and relationship lost to time.

Here we can find a resonance of a truth.

A relationship between two sentient beings.

Game of Thrones has been widely criticised as well as adored for its graphic depictions of sex and violence.

Perhaps its breakthrough appeal lies in its ability to shock. That ability is increasingly rare in a world where the most graphic images are so readily available and indeed almost inescapable. Many commentator s have spoken of the virtual impossibility to move in any tangible way the emotions of a cynical weary public who have been subjected to wonders and horrors layered thick fast and relentlessly on them through a myriad of media sources.

Small wonder then that the spectacle of thousands of screaming riders is unlikely to raise an eye brow let alone a re-commissioning . Is it simply a case of, ‘so what? Seen it all before?’

Why should I do this feature the courtesy of ‘buying into it?’

How can I suspend my disbelief enough to see past the corn flake faced orc, let alone an army of cartoon horses? How can I enjoy this? What will it take for me to overcome my own grating, sneering apathy?

The answer perhaps lies in that afore mentioned relationship.

Let us briefly visit another film.

The 1994 American Pastoral heart strings ‘pretty boy’ vehicle for Brad Pitt, The Legends of the Fall. Some may argue this film was made simply to show a variety of shots of Mr Pitt looking beautiful.

I have suffered too many nights in 1990s University halls of residences faced with poster evidence that this was indeed the overriding reason the film was made to counter a viable argument the contrary.

Legends of the Fall

Therefore perhaps there is no apparent reason why I should suspend my disbelief enough to surrender my intellect in order to bear two and a half hours of this slushy rubbish.

Except for one very important and personal reason.

In 1996 I learned to ride in New Paltz, Upstate New York while attending University ‘Stateside.’

Other alumni students of my stables included Aiden Quinn, Julia Ormond, Sir Anthony Hopkins and a Mr Brad Pitt. They were making an American pastoral heart strings puller of some description.

So when I revisit this film as I have done infrequently I see something different.

The cinematography of that feature whether by design or accident expertly lights relationships.

Of course primarily between the human protagonists though not exclusively.

Much care has been taken to demonstrate the complexity of relationships with nature and indeed how our own nature is at mismatch to the impassive non partisan personality of the world beyond people, Mother Nature herself.

Brad Pitt (on the right)

Within this chasm we are presented with a plethora of close shots featuring many of the stars riding at pace for some important reason or another.

The camera reveals human and horse moving together, a symbiotic expression of muscle and sinew.  A flowing relationship which should it fail at any point could most certainly lead to the demise of some of the most adored humans we had at the time.

Is it simply a case of camera angles and lighting or is it something else?

One might argue it is the focussing on the micro rather than the macro. A close shot revealing an authentic piece of action featuring as Mr Chan tells us not a double but the lead stars putting themselves on the line as opposed to the aerial spectacular cartoons of Peter Jackson.

This tells us there has been effort, training and there is real and tangible risk.

In that scenario I have far less trouble buying into the larger narrative.

To my mind the producers, actors, stunt co-ordinators and everyone else has earned my attention and I will happily surrender myself to the experience…for a while at least.

If one wishes to find the most direct and hideous opposite to this unspoken contract of artistic acceptance see Keira Knightly as the undisputed Lord of the pirates at ‘World’s End.’ No, no and thrice no!

Rubbish Pirate Keira Knightley

Not that I wish this to be some sort of Jackson attack.

There are some wonderful scenes featuring the Horse Lord Shadowfax where we are told not only that this God among horses will only bear us should he wish but in arm tingling vocal prowess Sir Ian McKellan’s Gandalf requests, “Shadowfax, show us the meaning of haste.”

Shadowfax

Of course we must attribute much of this praise to the author rather than the director, though the latter expertly and with flair brings the saga to life.

So where does this leave us? Are we dead to emotion? Have we lost our connection to vicarious fantastical excitement?

If the inexorable rise of reality television is a sign post to this depressing destination then count me out. The end does not justify the pallid means in any way.

“Fine then misery guts” you may justifiably shout; “sport it is and only sport.”

Pray not because I for one can find little or no joy in the various incarnations of chasing leather around grass pitches. The ebbing narrative of this actual reality is not as exciting as for example the skull lifting, scalp tingling, testing quandaries of brilliant story telling. See once again J R R Tolkien for details.

Vinny Jones & Paul Gascoigne Leather Chasers

For me the answer lies in not what we look at but where we focus and that relies on the lens of the imaginer. Not just the literal lens of the camera which as previously mentioned makes the world of difference but moreover the internal filters that make up the consciousness of the narrator.

If what makes them tick is what makes me tick then it will move me as it moves them and we will both be happy.

Skills impress me, but it needs to be skills I can recognise. I don’t suppose upon watching the Lord of the Rings many cinema goers came out and stated that they were thrilled by the CGI. At best it goes unnoticed. One might even argue that gone are the days when we declare that the ‘special effects’ were amazing. Sadly as in many arenas in life, last year’s thrill becomes this year’s expectation.

Finally perhaps we are ready on mass to ascend through this nonsense and return to those things deep within ourselves that resonate beyond expensive computer graphics, these things haven’t changed.

Show me courage, endeavour, skill, adversity, despair and ultimately triumph and if you can’t do that…

Kit Harington as Jon Snow

at least make Jon Snow survive to season six.

By Mark W Hunter