Über Scale in Blockbuster Filmmaking
In the season four episode of Futurama, ‘A Pharaoh to Remember’, Bender the robot finagles his way into becoming the malevolent ruler of an alien planet whose culture mirrors that of ancient Egypt. He commands that his slaves build a statue 1 billion cubits tall so that he will be remembered forever, but upon viewing his complete and absurdly massive likeness he questions whether it’s too big. Telling his followers and slaves to tear down the statue and start again he is prematurely buried inside his Pharaohs tomb.
There is an ongoing arms race in blockbuster filmmaking. With each passing year we see narratives and technology both upping the stakes in an attempt to appease audiences — to quote director James Cameron, “less isn’t more. More is more.” As a consequence of this ever growing spectacle films and their audiences are increasingly experiencing a phenomenon where there is a physical and emotional disconnect.
This disconnect can present itself in a multitude of ways, but the encompassing term I use for this phenomena is über scale. It can be in relation to the narrative directly, the internal logic of the established world of the film, the audience’s suspension of disbelief, or the screenwriter’s ability to deftly balance the micro with the macro.
Über scale can relate to a massive number of people or objects, great physical size and distance, lengths and periods of time, and overwhelming destruction. Historical or fictional armies, interstellar distances and feats of super engineering are just some of the examples of familiar tropes that risk becoming underestimated or trivialized to an audience.
In The Lord of the Rings film trilogy the second and third instalments prominently feature large scale battles where our heroes must fight against a much larger force.
The Battle of Helms Deep from The Two Towers finds 300 men and elves defending the people of Rohan from an army of 10,000 Uruk-Hai; they are beaten until Gandalf and the Rohirrim save the day at the critical moment. In The Return of the King the city of Minas Tirith is under siege from 250,000 orcs, who are engaged by 6,000 horsemen and ultimately defeated by the Army of the Dead, again at the critical moment.
Personally I find the battle from the second film is the more impactful of the two because the stakes are better to comprehend and the scale of the conflict is more tangible. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields from the third film is so large that my emotional investment is no greater in relation to the escalation of physical numbers — the battle itself is only ended by the deus ex machina of a conveniently-timed ghost army.
The greatest problem with über scale is that screenwriters grow dependent on plot conveniences, duplicity and hand waving of criticism concerning its use. With the belief that bigger equals better writers and their stories utilize techniques that ignore or gloss over the disconnect between the human scale and the larger world.
Star Wars: Episode VII — The Force Awakens
J.J. Abrams’ entry in the Star Wars franchise is not alone in recent years of trivializing and underestimating scale in relation to character and story, but the film does feature several instances where it mishandles über scale. At the same time The Force Awakens is also aware of when to rein in the scope and focus on its characters to best serve the central themes of family, legacy and emerging identity.
Starkiller Base
Depending on how much you know about the first and second Death Stars the entire concept of Starkiller Base feels like childish one-upmanship. The Death Star was the size of a small moon — Starkiller Base is planet sized. The Death Star had a superlaser with the power to destroy an entire planet — Starkiller Base has a hyperspace laser with the power to maneuver and destroy an entire planetary system across a galactic distance.
To viewers the sheer size and capabilities of this megastructure are overkill. The resources and manpower to engineer, operate and defend a weapon of this magnitude strains credibility, even for the Star Wars universe. In the end Starkiller Base is undone by a familiar and convenient weakness which is exploited by a single squadron of Resistance X-wings. Why? Because the screenplay says the good guys need to win and the bad guys’ superweapon needs to be destroyed for the hat trick.
Ultimately Starkiller Base is redundant, both to the story and in its execution.
Destruction of the Hosnian System
In A New Hope Princess Leia’s pleas to Governor Tarkin to spare the planet Alderaan from destruction provides us with an emotional stake. Alderaan is Leia’s home and the original destination for the stolen Death Star plans. When Tarkin orders the continuation of the weapons test after Leia has cooperated we see her shock and horror about what is about to happen. After Alderaan’s obliteration Obi Wan tells Luke of the millions of voices that cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. Something terrible has happened.
In The Force Awakens the Republic’s capital is destroyed by the First Order’s Starkiller Base. The first reference to the Republic is minutes earlier by General Hux addressing his troops in a scene reminiscent of the Nuremberg rallies. Our heroes discover the fate of the Hosnian system (not once named in dialogue) after the attack has occurred. Despite the loss of billions of lives the emotional impact of their deaths is undermined by the Republic’s sudden insertion into the story, which contains no emotional or narrative ties to our heroes, and has no immediate consequences. The Hosnian system is abruptly introduced, dispatched and quickly forgotten, and The Force Awakens’ escalation of destruction compared to A New Hope is ineffectual.
Interstellar Space and Travel
The Star Wars series has always experienced this problem. Space is big — really big. But when capital ships and one man fighters all have hyperdrive technology that enables them to traverse the galaxy in mere hours space begins to feel a lot smaller. The casual nature with which characters cross interstellar distances massively underestimates the physical scale of our own universe. I accept that relativistic physics is not the point of the story, but this leads us to another convenience of plot.
After Rey, Finn and BB-8 have escaped Jakku in the Millennium Falcon a large freighter appears moments later and captures them; by coincidence the freighter is captained by the Falcon’s original owners, Han Solo and Chewbacca. In a galaxy home to millions of inhabited worlds Han and Chewie happen to be in the precise location at the perfect time to detect and find their beloved ship, having previously been grounded and collecting dust in the desert for years.
The First Order
The size and physical might of the First Order is fluid to the needs of the story. They have the resources to build the largest superweapon ever devised, but are unable to defend themselves from a dozen Resistance fighters. Finn warns Rey and Han of the First Order’s strength and fanaticism to discover the location of Luke Skywalker, but where are the hundreds of star destroyers and thousands of TIE fighters aiding in their search?
The answer for the First Order’s dissonance is that the story requires them to be simultaneously a formidable foe worthy of fear and an enemy that our heroes can overcome using cunning, skill and the Force (and lots of luck). The bad guys need to be superpowered but not invincible — the problem lies in what we’re told versus what we’re actually shown.
Imperial Graveyard Chase
The sequence when Rey and Finn make their escape from the First Order in the Millennium Falcon exemplifies the writers' awareness of where excess would be more detrimental to the action than enhancing. The Falcon is pursued across the Jakku desert and through the remnants of a Empire era battle by two TIE fighters — it’s the first time Rey has flown the ship and the second time Finn has manned a gun turret. If the Millennium Falcon was being chased by 50 or 100 TIE fighters the audience’s acceptance of their abilities would be shattered; two fighters pose mortal danger to our heroes, but we can believe that Rey and Finn can outmaneuver and defeat them.
Whatever inconsistencies I feel about the presence of the First Order this sequence benefits from the screenwriter’s restraint and creative decision to make the action an opportunity to serve character development.
We live in a world where successive Transformers, superhero and Roland Emmerich movies attempt to outdo their predecessors in physical and destructive scale, assured in their belief that bigger is always better. Where the fate of the few was once enough for writers the spectacle is increasingly being blown up to global and galactic levels, and the empathetic, human connection is suffering in the process. Filmmakers cannot lose sight of the feelings and sensations we experience taking those steps into a larger world.
Coming soon: The Best Horror Film Ending of the Last Ten Years
