My Hopes for Episode VIII

After a week of over-thinking The Force Awakens, I thought I would share some of my hopes for its sequel, Episode VIII. The Force Awakens felt very much like the opening of a new chapter in the Star Wars saga, and left many unanswered questions, hanging plot threds, and development yet to be done. Episode VIII will really secure the relationship of this new Star Wars trilogy to those which preceded it – thus far it feels as if it’s created new heroes in the vein of the original trilogy, but more inclusive; on the other hand, its stepped back from the moral complexity of the prequel trilogy (and, to some extent, Return of the Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back) in favour of a simplistic “good versus evil” narrative more in keeping with the original trilogy. While prequels may have had their faults, moral complexity is not one of them (attempted plot complexity may have been). In general, Episode VIII needs to be braver, take a few risks, and yet still ground itself in the preceding seven films. At least, that’s my take. Here is entirely subjective list of hopes for Episode VII chocked full of spoilers for all preceding Star Wars films:

  1. Poe Dameron is gay.

One of the key triumphs of The Force Awakens over the previous trilogies was its inclusive cast – more than one woman! And one was a Jedi! A Black Stormtrooper! A Latino X-Wing pilot! But there has been another debate going on alongside this celebration, which is the central romantic dynamic of the film. Now, Finn made it pretty clear that he’s interested in Rey (which she doesn’t clearly reciprocate) but there were hints that Poe saw something else in Finn, something a little more than how good he looked in that jacket. Perhaps there could be romance blossoming there?

A friend pointed out to me that the only romantic relationships in previous Star Wars films have been those which were necessary to the plot. I’m not entirely convinced by this argument – of course it applies to Anakin and Padmé, but Han and Leia? Largely, I think the romantic subplots of the previous saga have been hindered by heteronormativity and the one-in-one-out policy the galaxy applied to women. But, in any case, Poe’s sexuality might only be confirmed on-screen if it’s relevant to the plot. If the new trilogy still wants to follow the beats of the originals (but please don’t – see below) I hope the love triangle puts Rey in Luke’s place, Poe in Han’s, and Finn as Leia. Or, perhaps, just introduce Poe’s husband with whom he had to flee the Empire which forbade their marriage. I can see a number of ways this would work for the plot, and cement this new trilogy’s socially progressive stance over the previous two. Plus it would make the Resistance seem that much easier to root for than the amorphous, Manichaean “good versus evil” battle with which we were presented in Awakens.

  1. Less pastiche, more integration.

The Force Awakens employed many story beats from the original trilogy, primarily A New Hope but also The Empire Strikes Back (I am your father!) and Return of the Jedi (the three-tiered battle and Han’s suicide mission). It was nice, I suppose, but it’s the main reason why I could never say Awakens is as good as the original trilogy. I hope that Episode VIII moves away from the cyclical story beats and emphasises the fact that this story takes place in the same universe with some of the same characters: let’s revisit some old locations (not Tatooine)! What’s been going down on Naboo? Perhaps Luke could run away again, but this time end up on Dagobah? Also, remember how the rebellion and Empire had, like, fleets of ships of different designs, not just X-Wings and TIE Fighters? Maybe the Resistance and the First Order could incorporate some of that variety? So much of Awakens felt like a reboot, a pastiche, or a remake rather than a continuation of events in a shared universe. I’m perhaps unclear about how to do it, but I don’t want to just see The Empire Strikes Back with the new characters. I Empire‘s complexity mixed with the charm and excitement of the new cast.

  1. Something about Padmé.

Perhaps the greatest contribution of the prequels to the Star Wars Saga was the introduction of Luke and Leia’s Mum, who did some wonderful things when she wasn’t delivering crappy dialogue in her “romantic” scenes with Anakin or dying in childbirth because of the Star Wars universe’s (now suspended) one-in-one-out policy regarding women. As a result of her not having been invented, Padmé gets scarcely a mention in the original trilogy (only when Luke asks Leia what she remembers about her mother in Return of the Jedi). I had hoped that Luke’s disappearance would be related to their mother, and that he might have spent some of the last thirty years looking for her (although many people tried to cover up her identity after her death). It didn’t come up in The Force Awakens, but Episode VIII could really tie the trilogies together by giving Luke (and Leia) a connection to their less volotile parent, perhaps remembering how great Padmé was when she was fighting for the freedom of Naboo, rescuing Obi-Wan on Geonosis, or founding the rebellion with Bail Organa, rather than interacting with their father.

[Edited to add] Also regarding #6 below, I had a vision of Episode VIII including a sub-plot in which Luke and Rey travel together (much like Luke and Obi-Wan) with Chewie and the droids in search of their mothers, and it was beautiful. If this isn’t part of the plot of Episode VIII (or IX, if I have to wait that long) then I will be very disappointed. [/Edit]

  1. Lando!

The key figure from the original trilogy missing in Awakens was Lando Calrissian: charmer, swindler, and businessman. Lando might be considered to be a fourth Ghostbuster by some (I have literally no idea who) but part of making this universe feel like the same one as we’ve seen before could be to revisit Lando. Rey saw a city in the clouds in her vision… perhaps we’ll see him back where we met him, about the retire but drawn back into the conflict?

  1. A little darker?

Kylo Ren is an excellent villain for the twenty-first century. He’s the kind of boy who thinks darkness is cool; he’s aptly summed up by the Twitter account Emo Kylo Ren (@KyloR3n) as an arrogant, misogynistic teenager; I’ve seen him describes as the kind of guy you wouldn’t accept a drink from at a party. But despite the volatile streak he shares with his grandfather we haven’t seen him commit violence the way we see Anakin slaughter the Sand People or the Younglings. The worst he’s done is kill his father, and there is still speculation about his possible redemption in the future of the trilogy. I have mixed feelings about that. To be honest, I think I’d rather see him descend into the depths of awfulness that he represents and ultimately (although not until Episode IX) be destroyed. In Episode VIII, I’d like to see him split from the First Order to commit his own atrocities, to become a violent, volatile force in the galaxy. Part of me had been hoping that his admiration for Vader meant that he’d ultimately turn on Supreme Leader Snoke and destroy him, like his grandfather. But I’m more inclined now to think that sticking so close to the story beats of the original trilogy will ruin this trilogy. Kylo Ren has to go further off the deep end than his grandfather. I don’t need to see him killing Luke, but finding the darkness within him would be a good progression.

But alongside this darkness, I’d like to see some reflection and commentary on the darkness and Kylo’s descent. It’s not just about “good” and “evil”. I’d like to see a little more bravery in dealing with the reasons why people are bad and the consequences of that badness and the ways people have to deal with it. Something, dare I say it, a little more like the prequels?

  1. Make Rey’s past interesting, please.

I’ve seen a fair bit of speculation about Rey’s parentage. On the basis that she’s basically Jaina Solo, perhaps she’s Kylo Ren’s twin. Because she speaks in an English accent, perhaps she’s Obi-Wan’s daughter (although the same argument could apply to Emperor Palpatine). She could be Luke’s daughter, or her family might be entirely new characters. I honestly don’t care which of these it is. Even if she’s not Han and Leia’s daughter, she’s still as close to my favourite character from the old expanded universe that I’m ever going to see on the big screen. All I want is for her past to be interesting, to be revealed in an interesting way, and to be stated with as much conviction as Luke’s parentage and siblingage so that even if it makes no sense whatsoever we just go with it. Although, if she were Palpatine’s daughter, that would give her a brilliant dynamic with Kylo Ren.

  1. It’s directed by Rian Johnson so maybe Joseph Gordon-Levitt could be in it?

I’ve seen two of Rian Johnson’s films – Brick and Looper – and I loved them. Both stared Joseph Gordon-Levitt, so I assume they’re pals? So maybe Gordon-Levitt could have a cameo in this film? Perhaps as Poe’s husband? If this happens I will assume I am a badass Jedi having a vision because I touched Anakin/Luke/Rey’s lightsaber.

Some rambling thoughts on Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

I tried to write down my thoughts about The Force Awakens in order to stop myself from getting too negative about this film as I enounter so much praise in its direction. I realised that actually, most of what I disliked about the film was in the second half, although I don’t think I say as much. Really, this just descends into a discussion of the saga as a whole and The Force Awakens‘ place in it. On which: spoilers for all severn Star Wars films. Also, I haven’t watched A New Hope or The Empire Strikes Back since 2007; I haven’t watched a prequel since 2005, and I can’t remember the last time I watched Return of the Jedi, as I can’t definitely recall doing so in 2007. I saw The Force Awakens on Thursday 17th December 2015, and I liked it. But not unconditionally.

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How to solve a problem like Helena?

This post will contain spoilers for Orphan Black seasons 1-3, Buffy the Vampire Slayer seasons 3-9 (yes, including the comic book continuations to a point), and Angel seasons 1-4. And, it turns out in the writing of it, Being Human series 1-3 (the UK version).

I had originally planned to write this blog after the penultimate episode of Orphan Black season 3 (“Insolvent Phantom of Tomorrow”), but I watched it too late in the week and so I waited until I’d seen the finale. The finale doesn’t change much of what I have to say, although it does provide a fun quote and some additional material. What I have to say is this: Helena is becoming a problem. Here is why.

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Some thoughts after Prof Edith Hall’s excellent Gaisford Lecture

I thought I would share my responses to Professor Edith Hall’s Gaisford Lecture, the text of which is available on The Guardian website. I couldn’t attend the lecture as I am no longer in Oxford, or the UK, primarily as a result of the UK’s atrocious spousal visa regulations, so my response is based on the text in The Guardian. Hall has also provided the text on her blog, with an introduction. Hall’s blog is worth browsing for its own sake, too.

First things first: My background. I attended a (Roman) Catholic state secondary school from 1997 to 2004, which shared a sixth form with the neighbouring Anglican school and the girl’s grammar school on the far side. While the classes for all the subjects offered in the Catholic and Anglican schools were mixed, the girl’s school offered spaces to students from the other schools on specific courses which they did not offer (Classical Civilisation), while the others did the same for students from the girl’s grammar (Theatre Studies; Physical Education). The girl’s school offered Latin and Classical Civilisation, the latter of which I took for A Level; due to a conflict in scheduling I also ended up doing History there, too – apparently good fortune on my part. The girl’s school was selective entry, but not fee-paying. When a number of students from my school were invited to visit the Oxford College Lady Margaret Hall, on the basis of encouraging applicants from under-represented schools, I attended; I applied to LMH in 2003 to study Literae Humaniores Course II:A (Latin), was accepted, and matriculated in 2004. It turns out that I am quite bad at Latin; I was offered the opportunity to change course to Classical Archaeology and Ancient History in my third year, which I (foolishly) declined. To anyone else in my position, I would wholeheartedly recommend CAAH over LitHum, unless you are particularly interested in literature and languages. The relief of not having to study Latin any more may explain why I enjoyed my Master of Studies in Classical Archaeology so much; I submitted my DPhil in Archaeology in January 2014, passed my viva in March the same year, and will almost certainly graduate at some point, when I can bring my partner back into the UK. I have taught undergraduates in both LitHum and CAAH; those students had a tendency to either get first class degrees, or for the paper I taught to be one of their best.

As I hope is clear from my background, I wholeheartedly agree with most of what Hall says in her lecture. Classical Civilisation is a brilliant course (or it was in 2002-2004), which shaped the direction of my life. ClassCiv teaches students not only about the literature of the ancient world, but the art, the architecture, and the life. I say “the ancient world”, but I suppose I mean ancient Greece. And when I say “ancient Greece”, I largely mean “ancient Athens”.

The emphasis on ancient Athens when we talk about the ancient Greeks is hardly a surprise, as it is Athenian literature which has largely been preserved throughout the millennia. It’s not entirely true, particularly of the Archaic Period, but the big names – Aristotle, Plato, Euripides – and not-so-big-names-but-truly-massive-corpuses – the perpetually sad Xenophon – are Athenian. When we think of archaeology we might think of the Parthenon before all else, although Olympia and Delphi might crop up for a few people; even if we think of Epidauros we think of Athenian plays performed there.

In April, as a response to one of the many programmes on ancient Greece the BBC have produced this year, Prof. Mary Beard quoted Moses Finley asking the question “which Greeks? when?” When Hall talks about the attempts of some scholars playing down the “specialness” of the ancient Greeks I think of this quote – were all the Greeks “special”? Or was there something distinct about their culture which allowed “special” people to speak up and be heard? My personal approach is to emphasise the position of Greece as part of a distinct Mediterranean network, in which there were “Greeks” everywhere from Egypt to Iberia, but similarly other people – and ideas – moving around and influencing them. The particular importance of the Greeks is that they had a literary culture through which such writing could survive; one thinks of the Etruscans, and the broad destruction of their literary legacy by the Roman Empire, and wonders if other cultures might not have had more to say.

Hall encourages the teaching of Greek civilisation because their ideas equip people to defend their liberty. As someone for whom archaeology comes a lot more easily than language (if not necessarily literary criticism), I value modern ideas more than those of the ancient Greeks. The value I see in the routine study of the ancient Greeks is the opportunity to approach a subject in which certain ideas have been established, and to show how taking a variety of perspectives and different evidential categories give us numerous narratives and challenge dominant paradigms. When I taught students to question the evidence for certain narrative ideas surrounding Greek colonisation, the spread and development of the alphabet, and early trade, I hope that they would be able to apply such thinking to all arguments – to question the perspective of a writer, to look for the evidence to back that up, and – particularly important in archaeology – to question the processes through which that evidence has been interpreted.

On this last point, Hall makes a number of points which I do not recall her explicitly relating to the study of Classical reception, but which really ought to be. Hall’s “Classics and Class” project challenges the idea that we should think of Classics as the preserve of posh, public school idiots like certain mayors of London, but that the subject has a long history of inspiring others to promote liberty and even rebellion. I think that reception is one of the most important aspects of the study of classics, particularly literature, as it is essential to understand how the texts through which we encounter the ancient world have largely survived not through accident, but by design. There is also a long history of value attached to specific texts – I linked earlier to, a project dedicated to showing the bias against the writings of Xenophon which persists in the study of Classics. I don’t know much about Xenophon myself, except that his Greek is by far the easiest I’ve been able to read, but I know that institutional bias needs to be addressed and corrected. If we can learn how to do so through examining the neglect of a particularly prolific Classical author, perhaps we can apply this process to the contemporary world and start to understand how long-held beliefs affect our approaches and interactions with modern life.

In archaeology, things survive for many different reasons. The easiest way for something to survive is for it to be buried intentionally, particularly if the burial itself has certain significance and protection – like a grave. The objects buried tend to be of particular importance, and those which do not tarnish, like gold, tend to have higher value (although “value” itself is a culturally contextual concept). Thus the survival of objects relates to their material worth and the likelihood of their burial – as the creation of the written word relies on the literacy of the author, its survival on the perceived importance of the author, the richness of the textual history on the broad acceptance of the author by those preserving texts. The ideas from ancient Greece belong to a particular set of privileged individuals whose works and ideas survived. Understanding that privilege and what it means should, I believe, help us to understand how certain people and ideas are privileged in the modern world

Learning about the ancient world, from Classical Civilisation to Literae Humaniores to archaeology, has taught me perspectives on the modern world, the way in which ideas proliferate, and to question the authority of assertions and arguments. It’s not the only way to learn these skills, but it is a good one, and one I tried to pass on to my students. Hall believes that we should learn about the ideas of the Greeks and the ways in which they have had impact on the continuing history of the human race; I do not disagree with this approach. My thoughts and approach here are, I believe, largely complimentary. Classics for all, indeed.

Contact (Part 1?)

Great science fiction stories should leave the readers asking questions. This statement is probably true of all stories, but I’m particularly interested in science fiction, so I’m focusing on those. In the past week or so I’ve had intense discussions about science fiction television shows and films, and I’ve thought intense things about science fiction books, but I lack others who have read those books to have quite the same kinds of discussion. I’ve posted the discussion I had with a friend on Twitter about the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “The Measure of a Man” (Season 2, episode 9) before (and here is it again), but even now I’m having new thoughts about that episode – about the importance of addressing ideas we hold to be true (in this case, the consciousness of Data) against those who do not agree in a way which allows us to examine our viewpoint and make it more forcefully. I wish I could do that too, sometimes. I’ve been reflecting on how stories encourage us to ask those questions, how they might lead us to certain answers, and what it is useful to ask in science fiction; in particular recently I have been thinking about the question of contact with alien life.

There are two principal sources of these thoughts: the first was reading the Hugo Award nominated The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin (translated by Ken Liu); the second was this article in February’s Clarkesworld magazine, which I only just got around to reading. (In the background, I’ve been re-watching The X Files too, in which contact comes up a lot). In the Clarkesworld article, Mark Cole discusses the limited examples of “friendly aliens” in science fiction (mostly cinema; there’s no discussion of the Federation or Ekumen or any other alliance of worlds) and suggests that stories of conquering aliens are more common because we can believe that from human nature and history. I’m not completely convinced that human history is quite so replete with conquerors and violence (perhaps European history) rather than co-operation and allegiance – perhaps it’s just that the conflict receives greater emphasis in our history books? But I also feel that this interpretation is a far too literal reading of contact stories. The Three-Body Problem discusses the impact it would have on human society if the existence of extraterrestrial life were discovered, which is a much more interesting idea. In this scenario, human beings discover that they are not alone in the galaxy and have to come to terms with that knowledge. The approach here is more interesting because it looks at how human beings behave, requiring no idea about the alien life at all – because we have no idea what alien life is like, but we know how human beings react to the unknown, or to new knowledge. Personally, I find the questions about how human beings behave much more interesting than inventing an alien conqueror.


Someone suggested on twitter that I write a blog instead of constraining myself to 140 characters.

I have a blog; this is a blog. But I don’t use it. Maybe I should. Maybe blogging will make me feel like I’m contributing to the internet.

I used to review the odd book here, but now I do that on Goodreads so I guess I need to think of something else. I might also change the theme. I make a lot of notes on books which don’t go into Goodreads reviews, so maybe those will be part of the project.

I will try to keep to tighter word limits (c. 1000 words?) because otherwise I just go on and on and on.

Here’s the last thing I really made on the internet:

The Prince and the Pa(u)per Mask

Over the past couple of days, two news reports about Egyptian Mummy Masks have been reported separately in news outlets across the world. One is about the damage done to Tutankhamun’s mask in the Cairo Museum; the other is about a papyrus mask of an unknown individual in a private collection which was destroyed to reveal what might be an early copy of the Gospel of Mark. I find it very interesting that these two cases have made the news so close together, but none of the news reports that I’ve seen have tied the two cases together. It is perhaps worth remembering that a huge chronological span separates these two objects – although not a span as great as that which separates us from them. And yet I believe that the parallels between the two cases are worth a few comments.

The treatment of these masks is directly related to their perceived value by their owners and curators. The first is perhaps the most famous museum object in the world, the gold mask of a long-dead king of a prosperous land around whose tomb and discovery many myths have gathered. The other was a papyrus mask of an unknown individual, of much lower status, in an Egypt which was part of a much larger empire – the mask has been described as not “museum-quality” (although one wonders how many museums were consulted about that and what defines “museum-quality”). In an effort to make the gold shine again, Tutankhamun’s mask was damaged, and the perceived need for such a valuable and famous treasure to be on display led to it being further – and permanently – damaged by a speedy and unprofessional repair job. Meanwhile, the perceived lack of value of the papyrus mask led to its total destruction in the hope of finding something with greater value in the modern world: a fragment of an early Gospel. In the former case, the object is world famous and has been recorded, studied, and photographed again and again – arguably nothing has been lost by the damage done to it. But the response, on social media and in the news reports about the damage, is incredulous. That reaction seems fair – the damage is irreparable, and many of us (myself included) will now never see the object in as perfect condition as we might. In the latter case, however, the object is largely unknown and there may not even be any decent photographs of it; it is, as far as I can tell, unprovenanced or at least not obviously from a formal excavation. So little is known about the Gospel Mask, except that it has now been completely destroyed and we may never know anything about it. But, we might argue, it could lead to a potentially more interesting further discovery. As an archaeologist largely interested in pre- or proto-historic periods, the idea that a written document of dubious date, of which we have many other copies, and which is largely of interest only to those who believe in its contents is more important than an artefact which may give us some indication about those not usually represented by written texts or shiny gold masks is troubling. What is perhaps also of interest is that whoever made this mask clearly also placed greater value on the mummy mask than on the copy of the gospel. Might we be better off questioning why that is, too?

In both of these cases, the problems seem to have occurred because of specialists; or rather, because of a lack of consultation with specialists. Rather than take the necessary time to repair the damage done to Tutankhamun’s mask, someone ordered that it be repaired with whatever happened to be around, which was a tube of bog-standard superglue. I assumed that this could not have been done by a professional conservator, but another glance at the story seems to indicate that it was, in fact, done by a professional. We don’t know what professionals, if any, have been consulted about the Gospel mask. The only names which have been spoken are not archaeologists or papyrus experts, but a New Testament scholar. The publication of the text has been delayed and delayed. It is unclear what has been done to this object or who is responsible. We do not know how this evidence might be manipulated, except for the clear case of hype-creation by leaking titbits of material to the press about the object.

These two cases highlight how we place value on historical artefacts, how this has changed from the value placed on them in antiquity, and how we perceive authority in controlling access to and disseminating information about historical objects. The case of the Gospel mask certainly deserves examination and discussion about how we should go about damaging objects, whether “museum-quality” or not – would I be complaining if the “damage” done was destruction of part of a sword to determine its metal composition? That’s work I’d even be happy to do myself, if I knew how to go about it (and was paid to do it). But the discussion needs to be about what information is gained and what information is lost. Our understanding of Tutankhamun’s burial and our appreciation of the objects created for it has declined very little, if at all, as a result of this damage. We may never understand the Gospel Mask, nor know about it in any great detail, unless it was very carefully recorded before it was destroyed. Whatever new information with which we are provided by the text on the papyrus, perhaps the most interesting thing about it is the perceived value placed on it by whoever made the mask, and was buried in it – was this reverence for the text or complete dismissal? Can we know the answer to that question now the mask has been destroyed?

There’s certainly a lot to mull over in the cases of Tutankhamun’s mask and the Gospel mask. I haven’t even considered the fact that these objects are *funerary* (largely because I have little respect for the long-dead, and no belief in an afterlife). The public reaction to these cases suggests to me that they might even be more interesting objects because of their roles in 2015 than they were when they were first created.