Over the past three months, I have posted articles on unconscious dynamics of sibling relationships in films. In this post, I’ll expand the field and discuss a trilogy that plays upon the dynamics of friendships and their interaction with family dynamics “post Oedipally.” My subject is the original Star Wars trilogy from the ’70’s and ’80’s.
On the surface, the “Star Wars Trilogy” is a very obvious Oedipal tale. Luke Skywalker seeks to find out about his mysterious father, a Jedi knight whom, he is told, was killed by the evil Darth Vader. In true Hamlet style, Luke faces Vader, his father’s murderer, in mortal combat only to find out, instead, that Darth Vader is his father, and Luke his father’s potential murderer. If he gives in to this Oedipal role and kills his father, he, like Vader, will become a slave to the dark side of the Force.
Vader is the perfect figure for a frightening Oedipal father—seven feet tall, with the resonant basso voice of James Earl Jones and the power to choke men to death at a distance with the power of the dark side of the Force. In the opening scene, a rebel ship is overtaken by an Imperial ship. The rebels wait at the ship’s entrance, frightened by the sound of the larger ship attaching to theirs. When the door is blasted open, the defenders look poorly armored against the metal encased Imperial soldiers. We can empathize with their fear and vulnerability. As the rebels retreat, Lord Vader enters, a huge black figure with a ferocious metallic helmet covering his entire face, a heavy breathing noise coming through the pipes that give him air. He is huge and terrifyingly ruthless as he confronts the small, young Princess Leia whom the rebels are defending. Throughout the films, we will see demonstrations of his massive powers and his heartlessness as he kills off a succession of admirals and generals who fail him. His size and voice match his name, Darth Vader—”Dark Father”, the violent father of the Oedipus complex.
One important element of a boy’s Oedipal fantasies is that he will be castrated for his illicit wishes. In fantasy, literature and film, castration—loss of the “short arm”—is often represented by the loss of an arm or leg. In the three initial Star Wars films, castration is suggested repeatedly as characters violently lose, and sometimes regain, their limbs. We see it first when Luke and the two robots (“droids”) that accompany him are attacked by Sand People. After the attack, Luke and his personal wizard, Ben Kenobi find the robot, Threepio, battered, with his arm torn off. Threepio is reminded of this in a later scene when he protests that the werewolf-like “Wookiee,” Chewbacca, is cheating at chess. He is told to let the Wookiee have it, because “It’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.” Threepio protests, “Nobody worries about upsetting a droid.” “That’s ‘cause droids don’t pull people’s arms out of their sockets when they lose.” Threepio is attacked and torn to pieces again in the second film, The Empire Strikes Back, when he comes upon a hidden Imperial storm trooper. In both cases, he is re-constructed and returned to his original state, proving in fantasy that castration is reversible.
The castration theme is touched on again in a lively bar scene in which Kenobi ends a confrontation by pulling out his lightsaber and severing the arm of a monster that tries to shoot him. Luke performs a similar trick early in the second film when he is menaced by a large Polar Bear type creature that plans to have him for dinner. Luke gets hold of his lightsaber and cuts off the creature’s arm.
Luke is the victim of such a castrating attack at the end of the second film, when he is confronted directly for the first time by Darth Vader. They engage in a sword duel with their lightsabers while Vader tries to convince Luke to join him. As the duel develops, Vader slashes Luke across his forearm, severing the hand that holds his lightsaber. Moments later, having symbolically castrated him, Vader tells Luke that he is his father. Nevertheless, Luke escapes, and at the end of the film a new hand is attached. The fantasy message is mixed but clear: There is a very present castration threat, but castration may be reversible. Vader, himself, appears to be a castration survivor. He looks like a giant, black, evil Tin Man. We are never sure which parts are natural and which metallic and computerized replacements. Kenobi says of him, “He’s more machine than man. Twisted and evil.” If we survive repeated castration, we are left bitter and vengeful, and given over to the dark side.
Luke Skywalker’s story is similar in certain ways to the story of Oedipus. Oedipus, like Luke, was brought up by ordinary people, a couple who found the injured child left for dead. Luke has been raised by his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. As the story unfolds, we discover first that he is the son of a Jedi knight and eventually that he is the son of Lord Vader and the brother of Princess Leia. Like Oedipus, he has a secret royal family. In fact, it is not uncommon for children to fantasize that they are secretly of royal or special birth, merely biding time with the “ordinary folk” who happen to be acting as parents. Psychoanalysts have named this a “family romance fantasy.”
Luke Skywalker lives with his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru on their family farm on the planet Tatooine, frustrated by the humdrum life and chores of an ordinary existence. Except for the setting, we can identify with his frustration with the ordinariness and humdrum, repetitive chores that make up his life. He wants to go to the Space Academy with his friends to become a pilot, but his Uncle Owen reminds him of his chores on the farm. Luke wants to go into town, but his uncle tells him, “You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done.”
Through Luke, we can escape from the repetitiveness of our own lives into a world of romance and adventure, encouraged by the wizardly Obi-Wan Kenobi, who seduces Luke with talk of his Jedi father and the chance to join in the rebellion by saving Princess Leia. Luke is concerned about his responsibilities to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. He would like to be free of them, but his loyalty will not allow it. That is taken care of for him and us by Imperial Storm Troopers, who leave a scene reminiscent of the Holocaust, with charred bones and the entire farm razed to the ground. Luke’s anger at his uncle and aunt is turned upon the Evil Empire that killed them; nevertheless, he is now free to pursue his adventure with more purpose, and they are mourned for a moment and then forgotten, never to be mentioned again. One of the allures of this genre is that we need not have our excitement dampened by grief.
But their demise serves another purpose. This is not just an Oedipal story. To understand the impact of these films, we have to look at the intended audience. Each of the “Star Wars” films opens to rolling letters against a backdrop of space. For the first film, it begins: “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far way . . . Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.” These titles and the sense of entering the story in the middle are clearly intended to remind those of us old enough (there were more of us in 1976 when Star Wars came out) of the “serials” that showed weekly in movie theaters in the thirties and forties and on television in the fifties.
We weren’t always lucky enough to catch the first episode, and joined the action somewhere in the middle, helped by the introduction that summed up the previous chapters. My first was “Don Winslow of the Navy” which I saw in a movie theater. I was probably four or five. Over the next few years, I particularly remember Flash Gordon and his nemesis, the older Ming the Merciless, perhaps Darth Vader’s ancestor. We watched those serials in the “latency years”, the years of early grade school and pre-adolescence. Similarly, Star Wars aims at the fantasies and dynamics of latency-aged boys and, to a lesser extent, girls. The films were produced by a man who grew up watching those serials, and they appear to have been designed not only for a new generation of children, but for adults who wish to re-experience a pleasure from that period of life. (For doubters, listen to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s first words as a “spirit”, co-opted from my first grade primer: “Run, Luke, run.”)
An important tension of that period of life is the need to make a partial break from the insular world of the family in order to enter the world and make new attachments. We hear that tension in the opening scenes when Uncle Owen tells Luke, “You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done.”
The death of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru allows us, along with Luke, to make a clean break from the allure of a supportive mother. One of the tasks that a child of six or seven begins to face is to make this break away from the family and towards the world of school and friends. Aunt Beru is motherly and supportive, and, as such, she is a threat to the budding individuality and manhood of the latency boy. The weeping that accompanies the first days of school must give way to an outward independence that perhaps reaches its apex in the pre-adolescent practice of making insulting comments about one another’s mothers and accepting those insults as a proof of manhood. The need to make the break from his mother also helps the boy with his Oedipal problem. He is no longer in direct competition with his father for her affections. He takes on the dangers of the outside world—the world depicted in the films by scary monsters and Imperial Troopers—without the protection of his parents. But he is also escaping the castration threats that face him in the family, the threat represented in the film by Darth Vader, the dark father. In Star Wars, the break is clean, and Luke is free to pursue a life in the world of men.
One of the remarkable features of this trilogy is the virtual absence of women. In fact, after Aunt Beru’s death early in the first film, other than the somewhat tomboyish Princess Leia, there are virtually no women in the films, none at all until the third film in the series. There is a scene in the middle of that third film, Return of the Jedi, in which Kenobi tells Luke that he has a twin sister who has remained anonymous. Luke says, “Leia! Leia’s my sister,” prompting Ben to compliment him on his insight. I could easily imagine Luke answering, “Insight! She’s the only woman I’ve seen on the set for the last eight years.”
Although the hero, Luke Skywalker, is an adolescent, the films focus on the latency issues of increasing autonomy and peer relationships and essentially eschew the sexual issues of adolescence. With mother and girls conveniently pushed off stage, Luke turns to his peers. As the first film develops, friendship takes on a prominent role. Luke becomes a part of a roving band of friends including Han Solo, his werewolf-like companion, Chewbacca, Leia, the two robots, R2D2 and C3PO, and, later, Lando Carpathian. The theme of loyalty amongst friends is prominent, particularly in the second film, The Empire Strikes Back. At the end of the first film, Luke is hurt and angry that his new friend, Han Solo, is leaving with his reward while Luke and the rebels attempt to do battle with the Empire’s powerful “Death Star” space station. Of course, Han ultimately returns to help Luke defeat the Death Star, firing on Vader’s fighter as he is about to shoot Luke. This is the beginning of an important theme—if friends stick together, they can defeat the frightening Oedipal father.
At the beginning of the second film, Han proves his friendship again by going out onto a freezing cold planet against all advice because his friend, Luke, is out there in trouble. The deck officer tells him, “Sir, the temperature’s dropping too rapidly.” Han answers, “That’s right. And my friend’s out there.” He saves Luke, of course. Later, Luke returns the favor. He is in the middle of his Jedi training when he discovers that Han, Leia, and their friends are in danger. Luke ignores the advice of his Jedi training master, Yoda, who protests “Luke! You must complete the training.” Luke answers, “I can’t keep the vision out of my head. They’re my friends. I’ve got to help them.” At the end of that film, Luke is once again lost and in danger, having been wounded by Vader and left hanging out in space. Leia and her companions go back into the danger to save him.
In essence, Luke has left the world of the family and joined the world of his peers in which he now plays out the love and rivalry that had been confined to the family. Friends have taken the place of family. But the family strikes back. By the final film of the trilogy, Return of the Jedi, the tensions have become focused on two levels of conflict. The more overt is the Oedipal conflict, in which Luke must overcome not only his powerful, formerly idealized, father, but also his own violent rage in order to survive without joining the dark side of the Force. The more subtle conflict is the one between attachment to family and attachments to friends, outside the family.
That film could have been called, “Return of the Repressed,” because in it many of the latency defenses begin to break down. In this film, we begin to see some female characters, albeit in minor roles. There is also a crack in the barrier against childish playthings and family life when Luke and his friends find new allies in a tribe of Teddy Bears, called “Ewoks.” In fact, these furry, cuddly characters became the centerpieces of break-off films and TV shows aimed at a younger audience. What’s more, they appear to have a tribal and family structure, breaking the pattern of an all male military oriented culture that pervades the earlier films. They are an addition to Luke’s friends, but they also represent the return of the family as a force (small “f”).
It also brings back, in a small way, the idea of mother. Throughout the films, Luke has been concerned with his paternity, but neither he nor anyone else has ever raised the issue of his mother. He has learned that Leia is his secret twin sister. In the tribal environment of the Ewok village, Luke speaks with her, expressing a new type of curiosity about his past.
Leia: Luke, what’s wrong?
Luke: Leia, do you remember your mother? Your real mother?
Leia: Just a little bit. She died when I was very young.
Luke: What do you remember?
Leia: Just images, really. Feelings.
Luke: Tell me.
Leia: She was very beautiful. Kind, but sad. Why are you asking me this?
Luke: I have no memory of my mother. I never knew her. (He also seems to have repressed any memory of his adoptive mother, Aunt Beru.)
As the dialogue continues, Leia senses something troubling Luke. He explains that Vader has come looking for him and that he must face him. When she asks why, he explains that it is because Vader is his father. He goes on to tell her that if he doesn’t make it, she is the only hope for the rebel Alliance. She tells him he has special powers. He answers that she has that same power.
Luke: The Force is strong in my family. My father has it, I have it, and my sister has it.
This is the return of the family, albeit the special family of the family romance fantasy. In fact, Luke wishes to reunite his family, telling Leia about Vader, “ … there is good in him. I’ve felt it. He won’t turn me over to the Emperor. I can save him. I can turn him back to the good side. I have to try.”
Ultimately, the battle for control of the galaxy becomes a battle between loyalty to family and loyalty to friends. Luke is captured by Vader and his master, the evil Emperor (the dark grandfather). In the dialogue that follows, we might recall Uncle Owen’s words to Luke about doing his chores before wasting time with his friends. Luke is like a boy who has been grounded and must listen to the family’s threats. The Emperor belittles Luke’s faith in his friends—he seems obsessed with Luke’s friends—in his attempt to get Luke to join his father in the dark side of the Force while Vader reminds Luke of the familial relationship.
Emperor: I assure you we are quite safe from your friends here. (Note the “we.”)
Luke: Your overconfidence is your weakness.
Emperor: Your faith in your friends is yours.
Vader: It is pointless to resist, my son.
Emperor: Everything that has transpired has done so according to my design. Your friends up there on the Sanctuary Moon are walking into a trap.
In the first film, Luke is aided at the start by the fatherly Obi-wan Kenobi, but after Kenobi dies (to become a spirit who appears only to Luke, like an ego ideal), it is the band of brothers, the alliance of friends, that offers a defense against the powerful Oedipal Vader. In this final confrontation, the Emperor attempts to enforce the power of the family, telling Luke, in essence, “Your friends cannot save you.”
Of course, Luke’s friends, with the help of the Ewoks, will overcome the Emperor’s soldiers, but the victory of friendship does not mean the defeat of the family. Ultimately, Luke is saved by both his friends, who overcome the Emperor’s troopers, and by his father, who in a final act of goodness mixed with Oedipal murder, overcomes the dark side and kills the Emperor (his own symbolic dark father), causing his own death. At the end of the film, we see Luke’s father as a kindly ghost beside Kenobi and Yoda, wishing Luke well on his victory.
This is quite a white wash considering Vader’s cruelty and the number of lives he has taken. It is almost as if Hitler was found alive in the bunker and pleaded that he’d had a toothache for twenty years. But with this kind of fantasy film, we implicitly accept the symbolic roles of the characters and ignore their “real” behavior. Vader atones for the killing of his symbolic father by succumbing, himself, making the sacrifice for his son.
In the end, of course, Luke appears to have reconciled his attachment to his family and to his friends. Having conquered the evil Emperor, he is with his friends and sister amidst a tribe of Teddy Bears with the benevolent ghosts of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and a very saccharine Anakin Skywalker (I think I liked him better as Darth Vader) looking on. What is still missing, of course, is his mother, and any memory of the uncle and aunt who raised him.
published originally in the PANY Bulletin and in Double Feature: Discovering Our Hidden Fantasies in Film by Herbert H. Stein (2002) New York: E-Reads