The Multidimensional Women of Star Wars

I’m sorry to break it to you, but there aren’t any multidimensional women in Star Wars. Wait, no. I was mistaken. I’m not sorry.

My general dislike is well documented because (a) I enjoy writing the occasional bit of pithy drivel, and (b) gutting the treasured memories of undiscerning geeks is too much fun. Nerds are too forgiving of the franchise’s gigantic flaws. As long as Lucas keeps the robots and lightsabers coming, most fans gobble it up. But, when your film is bucking for Cultural Treasure status, the gloves come off.

For the record, I’m actually fond of the original trilogy, but even those films can’t escape the Lucasian black hole of very, very bad writing. Back in those days, great actors and non-Lucasian producers ensured that George’s worst excesses were held in check.

Even so, there’s a thing called the Bechdel Test. It’s a way to gauge just how badly women are portrayed by uncreative writers and filmmakers. If a film’s women mainly yap about shoes or men, then it fails the test. There are other ways to fail, but that’s a simple introduction. I look forward to re-watching that Michael Bay documentary about this pervasive cultural phenomena.

So, why does Star Wars suck this time? Here’s are reasons number 8,001 through 8,005 are provided thanks to Cracked and entitled Why ‘Star Wars’ Is Secretly Terrifying for Women.

“As sigmund Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a giant vagina in the desert that swallows men whole.” - Harry S. Plinkett

Together with Plinkett’s observations, it’s easy to imagine Lucas subconsciously exploring his deeply-seated psycho-sexual, frustrated-nerd hangups. I’m sure that wasn’t his intent. Women are portrayed as they are because he can’t write effective dialogue. Besides, calling misogyny doesn’t cut it. In the prequels, even the men are written badly. Everyone’s sexless and behaves robotically. What’s our explanation for that? Are the films’ computer generated aliens the most expressive characters because George Lucas is an alien?

I Want to Believe. Anyway, the end result, though, is a world where aliens work side by side, but women are no more than strippers, damsels, or stand-ins. The rest are probably cooking something tasty in the kitchen while waiting for their man to come home. He needs a good foot rub.

And I make these cracks not because Lucas is a woman hater. He (probably) isn’t. No, I make these cracks because he appears to have been too proud to hire one of the eighty billion competent dialog-writers working in the L.A. restaurant scene. Well done, George.