Last week I saw Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith (in French, La Guerre des étoiles: La Revanche des Sith) in a Parisian theater. I opted for the subtitled version, rather than the French dubbed one, because for some reason Darth Vader does not sound like the incarnation of evil in French, but more like a Frenchman with a really bad head cold.

I liked the movie. Sure, the exposition of the plot could have at times been less light-saber-me-right-on-the-head, and I could have done without whole scenes worth of George Lucas’ trademark clunky dialogue. (“Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo” — how can any actor utter that line with a straight face?) But with this film Lucas came back — at last — to the two resonant themes that he first explored in the original Star Wars trilogy.

The first is the hero’s journey. When he was writing the screenplay for the original 1977 film, Lucas found inspiration in Joseph Campbell’s book The Hero With a Thousand Faces, which examined the themes shared by hero myths across time and cultures. The story of Luke Skywalker followed the classic narrative, or “monomyth,” described by Campbell — first “departure” (Luke must leave the life and family he knew as a simple farmer), then “initiation” (his learning of the ways of the Force, the identity of his father, and his destiny to face Darth Vader), and finally “return” (his rediscovery of family, his reconciliation with his father, and his “return” as a Jedi knight). The Revenge of the Sith is the exact inversion of this story: it begins with Anakin’s victorious return from battle in the outer reaches of the galaxy, then his initiation in fear (of Padme’s foreseen death) and temptation (of worldly power), and finally his decision to break from his order, his friends, and even the one he loves.

The execution may be less than perfect, but Lucas’ vision is compelling, at times moving. If what ensures the son’s victory is his compassion — a compassion that prevents Luke from killing Darth Vader and taking his place — what destroys the father is his fear. A good man turns to evil, Lucas tells us, not just because of ambition or greed, but also for the most noble reasons: a desire to prevent the suffering of a loved one. Indeed, Yoda’s advice to Anakin — to accept death as natural, to avoid the “attachment” that will lead him to jealousy and greed, to let go of his fear of loss — might have come from a lecture in Buddhist philosophy by the Dalai Lama (froggy voice included). What emerges is a picture of the subtle evils at the heart of all our material strivings — even love, when it oversteps its bounds into desire. “The fear of loss,” Yoda says, “is a path to the dark side.”

The second theme is the downfall of democracy. Star Wars came to theaters in the post-Vietnam, post-Watergate years, one of those rare historical moments when the veil was lifted and rampant abuse of executive power revealed. Lucas has talked about his interest in the question of why democracies turn into dictatorships. In ancient Rome, “why did the senate after killing Caesar turn around and give the government to his nephew?” Lucas said. “Why did France after they got rid of the king and that whole system turn around and give it to Napoleon? It’s the same thing with Germany and Hitler.” (Fear will make people do anything, Nazi leader Hermann Göring once observed: “All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”) In all the cases mentioned, hysterical, irrational fear of enemies (external or internal) led freedom-loving citizens to accept increasingly drastic measures and rally behind an autocratic savior. Fear of loss, again, transforms good people into something else — leaders into unyielding crusaders, citizens into unthinking clones.

The earlier trilogy pitted an Empire against a rebel alliance; the second a Republic against a band of separatists. The “good guys” may seem obvious, given the cast of characters that populate each side (wholesome Jar Jar Binks vs. a cyborg general with emphysema?), but a closer look might make you question your own sympathies. After all, the Empire had the trappings of democracy — an Imperial Senate, only later dissolved by the Emperor — and it did, as promised, bring peace to the galaxy. The Separatists were terrorists led by greedy plutocrats, but their aims were worthy enough — to rid themselves of a corrupt and oppressive government. In Episode III, as the war nears its end and the Republic’s chancellor tightens his grip on power, Padme asks Anakin, “Have you ever considered that we may be on the wrong side?” It is the same treasonous thinking that has been voiced by clear-eyed patriots throughout history: those Roman, French, and German republicans, among others, who protested the descent of their societies into the militarism of Caesar, Napolean, and Hitler. They were few, but history remembers them.

Well, it seems like I’ve gone into hyperspace with this post — Star Wars indeed! As if Star Wars had anything to do with U.S. military policy or certain missile defense systems now under development in violation of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty of 1972 … what silliness. On to more pressing issues.

Next week: the striking historical parallels between Genghis Khan’s 13th-century conquest of the Eurasian continent and the plot line of Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan.

Victor Tan Chen Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen