Revenge Revisited: 20 Years of Sith and Scars

With the 20th anniversary re-release of Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith, fans are once again invited to relive the fall of Anakin Skywalker, a tragedy orchestrated by Darth Sidious in plain sight. When I saw this film back in 2005, it instantly became my favorite of the prequels. Two decades and countless hours of Star Wars content later, the film plays differently—richer in some areas, a little more strained in others.

From the masterful opening space battle over Coruscant to the execution of Order 66 and the fiery duel on Mustafar, Revenge of the Sith remains the most action-packed of the Skywalker Saga. There’s a relentless forward momentum: starfighter dogfights, lightsaber clashes in crumbling environs, chase scenes through the sinkholes of Utapau. The spectacle is undeniable. Yet, that very spectacle sometimes overwhelms. The visual effects are ever-present—not as a backdrop to enhance drama, but often as the main attraction themselves.

Interestingly, watching this film now, I can’t help but compare it to the modern Disney+ Star Wars shows that rely heavily on StageCraft (a.k.a. "the Volume"). There's a similar uncanniness between the greenscreen-heavy aesthetic of Revenge of the Sith and the virtual sets of today. Scenes in Padmé’s apartment, on Utapau, or on the lava planet Mustafar carry that same synthetic sheen—they look real enough, but you can feel the absence of physical space, and it creates a certain emotional distance.

That emotional distance may contribute to what many still consider some of the weakest performances in the franchise. Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman never had great chemistry, but by Episode III, it often feels like George Lucas was leaning into the awkwardness. The dialogue doesn’t help. Consider this exchange:

Padmé: “It’s only because I’m so in love.” Anakin: “No… it’s because I’m so in love with you.” Padmé: “So love has blinded you?” Anakin: nervous laugh “Well, that’s not exactly what I meant…” Padmé: “But it’s probably true.”

It’s stiff, stilted, and unintentionally funny. And they’re not alone. Obi-Wan’s dramatic declaration—“Chancellor Palpatine is evil!”—met with Anakin’s flat “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!”—feels ripped from a Saturday morning cartoon. Sure, these lines have become meme-worthy over the years, but even in context, they’re hard to take seriously. And don’t get me started on Palpatine’s iconic but campy “Unlimited power!” and “I am the Senate!”

Still, for all its pulp and polish, Revenge of the Sith may boast the strongest story in the entire nine-film saga. It’s Shakespearean in scope. Watching the Republic fall “to thunderous applause” lands differently today than it did in 2005. In an age of rising authoritarianism, this moment feels less like science fiction and more like a warning. The Jedi’s blind faith in the system is their downfall—while Palpatine uses that very system to consolidate power. It’s haunting. And Anakin’s descent, driven by fear of loss and a desire for control, resonates even if its fairy tale simplicity feels a bit well-worn.

The final revelation—that he killed Padmé in his rage—adds a tragic weight to Vader’s origin. And yet… even after all this time, I still struggle to see Anakin and Vader as the same person. That’s not a critique of Christensen or the writing. It’s an artifact of how I experienced Star Wars. Vader, as presented in 1977–1983, was the embodiment of cold, calculating menace. Giving him a backstory—especially one this operatic—feels like retrofitting something that wasn’t meant to be explained.

Palpatine, on the other hand, works better precisely because we don’t get his full backstory. His transformation from politician to tyrant is chilling, in part because the mystery is intact. Sometimes, less really is more.

Of course, that “less” is filled in over time. Seven seasons of The Clone Wars recontextualize much of Revenge of the Sith. Anakin’s frustration at not being granted the rank of Master? Feels more justified after seeing his leadership and sacrifices. His distrust of the Council? Deepened by how they handled Ahsoka. These additional layers make his fall more of a slow-motion collapse than a sudden betrayal.

In the end, Revenge of the Sith remains, in my opinion, the best of the prequels. It tells a full, self-contained story. You don’t need to watch Episodes I or II to appreciate it. And for a third chapter, that’s quite an accomplishment. It captures the grandeur and tragedy that made Star Wars what it is. And in retrospect, it bridges the gap between the spectacle of the prequels and the spirit of the Original Trilogy more effectively than it gets credit for.

Twenty years later, it’s clear that Revenge of the Sith was ahead of its time in some ways and very much a product of its time in others. But it still burns brightly—like a lightsaber drawn in darkness.