You're still banned for personal insults. Flagg's matter is not on the table as of yet, because we're preoccupied with you.

I'm still to see that report.

Do you want us as mods to look into this past discussion and settle the matter between the two of you, or would you prefer to have a PM conversation with him without any outside interference?

In any case, I suggest you cool off.

Well, you're not there now, so it means next to nothing in the current situation.

Yup. They include a member drawing a temporary ban upon himself for letting an argument get under his skin and then registering with another username, pretending to be 'new' here.

Flagg was speaking in generalized terms, and his use of degradatory language, while possibly out of place and lacking good taste, wasn't coined on anyone in particular. That's Flagg for you, he's the local dogboy (or nowadays, our very own dogsoldier ), and he likes a little provocation to go along with his opinions.

I take it that the doc, however, took it personally as his fiancé was in the teaching profession. That's when he crossed the line - he responded to Flagg's generalized comments with a personal note. While Flagg may have been a bit out of line regarding the nature with which he presented his views, Doc flew out the minute he started hurling insults towards Flagg.

In case the manner in which Flagg expressed himself insults anyone here, I guarantee there are better ways to deal with it than to directly insult him - that's something that'll only get you banned.

I stand corrected.

You really are new to the GNR online community in general.

Well pollux,

As much as I see the valid points in your text, I find an equal amounts of issues open for debate. If we begin by taking a look at George Lucas the filmmaker, we'll notice A New Hope is the sole original trilogy film which could be claimed as wholly his. Like Sergio Leone with A Fistfull of Dollars and John Sturges with The Magnificient Seven, Lucas used a Kurosawa film as a dramaturgical blueprint for his sci-fi epic [a feat soon to be repeated by Battle Beyond the Stars]. While Leone and Sturges used the reknown Yojimbo and Seven Samurai, respectively, Lucas turned towards the little-known Hidden Fortress. Two ne'er-do-well peasants end up smuggling a princess of a fallen royal family across the enemy lines, oftentimes tempted by her golden treasure (a direct lift to Han Solo's character). While they succeed, the story is left open, and we are left to our own cognition as to whether the princess will stand a chance reclaiming the family throne.

As far as source material, another work vital in understanding New Hope's underlying dynamics is Joseph Campbells A Hero With A Thousand Faces, which describes in detail the run-of-the-mill hero myth, detailing every step of the protagonists journey by cross-referencing various tales across the ages. Obviously, Skywalkers journey is a fluent one, as he's doing everything stritcly by the numbers, literally by the book.

In this light, A New Hope can hardly be claimed to be an original story in any sense of the word. On the other hand, this argument is ultimately a moot point, as the films greatest singular achievement is to reintroduce the Campbellian monomyth to a new generation, effectively by moving that iconic tradition in American cinema from the Old West into space.

Therefore, what Lucas'd wish to say with his films should be considered as a rather great responsibility. As his greatest strength as a filmmaker is to analyze and dissect the existing patterns of filmmaking tradition and storytelling, arising from the dawn of times, one should pay close attention as to what sort of a message he's trying to send across.

This brings the events surrounding the latter episodes of the original trilogy to an interesting light. Lucas decidedly took a more 'hands-off' approach to Empire, leaving creative partner and producer Gary Kurtz to the helm with new screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan and veteran director Irvin Kershner. The final result was by far the darkest hour to the characters, with a whole new sense of melodrama and more fleshed-out interpersonal relationships. In my opinion, this shift is what saved the original trilogy.

Whenever a three-part story arrives at the second act, things get tricky. You're starting with a story which has established characters and setting, take them through hell and leave the story open, without a readily-available katharsis for the audience. Only the third part will bring closure, and the opening entry has the luxury of letting everyone into the world; the second part always ends up with the uphill battle of the middleman.

If you have a lackluster second act, no-one gives a shit about your grande finale. Yes, Wachowski brothers, I'm talking to you.

Gary Kurtz and Lucas parted ways after the Empire production, which is definitely an interesting turn. Apparently, Lucas felt his baby was sliding away from him and he felt the need to take the reins on a more day-to-day basis. Kurtz has later claimed their original vision for the third act would've been far darker; in the place of Ewoks, there would've been wookies, Han Solo would've been killed in battle, Leia would've finally claimed rule over her people and set out to lead to a new age. Never his brother, Luke would've set out for a walkabout beyond the stars, desolate and without friends, having killed his father in a moment of Pyrrhic victory.

At the time, Lucas and Kurtz had outlined material for Episodes I-III, as well as VII-IX. In that light, the original trilogy should be considered as the 'Empire of trilogies', as far as the greater story arch is concerned. While an individual storyline, it should also tell of the years of pestilence, the middle children of history. They'd reap whatever the fall of the Republic had sown, and the Empire would've been properly defeated only in the final trilogy, which would've been the final, perhaps more upbeat entry and a return to a status quo resembling that of the beginning of (or preceding) Episode I.

(Covered in the exquisite Gary Kurtz interview, which is definitely worth your while.)

However, Lucas went out and closed the story in a rather forced manner, merging the original ideas for Episode IX with VI. Therefore, a lot of loose strings were tied up in a rush, among them the grimacing abuse of Yoda's remark in Empire about Luke having an equal somewhere out there. In the film, Leia only gains clairvoyance through Luke, which reminds of Obi-Wan's mind control. Their connection could be explained with Leia possessing a more open mind than Han Solo, the one other person as close to Luke, as the Force as a telepathic signal seemingly comes through clearer to those less sceptic (in that sense, Solo represents the classic Doubting Thomas figure).

The original trilogy definitely lost me by the third act, particularly with Leia's character development taking wild turns from warrior woman to a bikini-clad prostitute and further down to the sister of a God and the lover of a swashbuckler. She was first degraded from her position as an equal to men, and after doing penance, she was ready to embrace a new role as a warrior with submissive relationships to the two men she'd fought alongside with. Down with the independence of a fierce lady shouldered with the future of her people.

The paternal relationship of Luke and Vader is not as bad, but the much of the intended emotional impact of the aftermath is kibboshed as Luke receives an absolution by seeing the ghost of his late father alongside the other late Jedi. No longer is there a shadow of a doubt whether Luke can ever cope with the fact that his father, possessing the same strength as he does, made the opposite choice and became a tyrant. No self-doubt, no questioning as to whether he himself can keep those same powers at reins, instead of turning against Leia and her cohorts as their relationship is bound to change forever when the rebuilding of the nation ensues. Like any revolutionary hero, Luke should pay heed to Spartacus and take the high road before they'll crucify him.

Those are my main gripes with the original trilogy, and I'm rather vexed by the fact that Lucas decided to switch horses mid-race. I cannot comment on the prequels as I only saw The Phantom Menace in the opening month (as well as half the Western world, it seemed), leaving terribly underwhelmed and annoyed by the presence of midichlorians, the illegal alien from the Twilight Zone Jamaica, and lastly, the horrendous Jake Lloyd.

I even gave the film another chance, revisiting it years later in the form of The Phantom Edit. By the time I made to the underwater city, I felt immensely bored, and was shocked to find out that the edit'd actually removed a fight Obi-Wan and co have with an underwater entity en route to surface. Had it remained intact, I would've probably passed out.

Therefore, I'd like to imagine neither Episode VI or Lucas' pussyfoot reimaginings of the original trilogy never quite happened, as the person who struck such a fine balance between myth and pop culture in A New Hope has seemingly gone to a very different direction somewhere down the road.

What his motives are, I don't understand. What his message is, I can't hear it anymore. One thing's for certain; I'd be hard-pressed to introduce my kin to the Star Wars trilogy with Episode I. It was never supposed the be a toy-fair, nor did it need to be. My first contact with A New Hope was at a Spanish hotel room at the age of six. Even when dubbed into a foreign language without subtitles and whatnot, the sense of an ageless adventure glued me into my seat, speaking to me from the land of the ancients, from the courts of dead kings.

I was enchanted, for I understood the language. I needed no accessories, translations or any sort of cognitive adult interference. My relationship to Lucas as it has evolved over the years can probably be best coined in the words of Roger Waters:

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.

The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

I think I killed the family cat this morning.

Let the bugger out on its own request (we live in the country with a big yard, so that's not a big deal), the old man and my nephew were there to witness the event. I come back in the afternoon; mum arrives a few hours later. Suddenly, everybody's realizing the same thing: 'Where's the friggin' cat?'

Turned out nobody bothered to let the sucker back in. Hours passed, people went outside with flashlights. No cat. The temperature's slightly below zero and the cat's roughly 8 months old, so it's not the best combination for a night out.

Christmas Eve's killing me.