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I can't really compare the two as I've never read the novelization of any of the Prequels. I'll take your word on it though but as someone who has only seen the films and read the comics those are all I'm going to judge the series on.
I think we might want to stick with movies since those are what most in here are familiar with.
Here you go, Winter.
Now you see why I say even what most consider the high-water mark of the prequel trilogy still has poor dialogue? That's only because most people haven't read this, written by Matt fucking Stover. The novel is everything the movie failed to be. You gain everything and lose nothing - except the action, but then, it shouldn't be about the action anyway despite the name "Star Wars" - it should really be about the characters and the story. I'm sure some will cite how a written medium has advantages over a visual medium, in how you can actually get inside their heads to emphasize with them, but even considering that, the book is pure nerdgasm. The movie just fails to deliver. I believe even George Lucas himself praised this.Two masked, robed, silent Red Guards flanked the door to the Chancellor's private box at the Galaxies Opera. Anakin didn't need to speak; as he approached, one of them said, "You are expected," and opened the door.
The small round box had only a handful of seats, overlooking the spread of overdressed beings who filled every seat in the orchestra; on this opening night, it seemed everyone had forgotten there was a war on. Anakin barely gave a glance toward the immense sphere of shimmering water that rippled gently in the stage's artificial zero-g; he had no interest in ballet, Mon Calamari or otherwise.
In the dim semi-gloom, Palpatine sat with the Speaker of the Senate, Mas Amedda, and his administrative aide, Sly Moore. Anakin stopped at the back of the box.
If I were the spy the Council wants me to be, I suppose I should be creeping up behind them so that I can listen in.
A spasm of distaste passed over his face; he took care to wipe it off before he spoke. "Chancellor. Sorry I'm late."
Palpatine turned toward him, and his face lit up. "Yes, Anakin! Don't worry. Come in, my boy, come in. Thank you for your report on the Council meeting this afternoon—it made most interesting reading. And now I have good news for you—Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous!"
"That's tremendous!" Anakin shook his head, wondering if Obi-Wan would be embarrassed to have been scooped by the clones. "He won't escape us again."
"I'm going to—Moore, take a note—I will direct the Council to give you this assignment, Anakin. Your gifts are wasted on Coruscant—you should be out in the field. You can attend Council meetings by holoconference."
Anakin frowned. "Thank you, sir, but the Council coordinates Jedi assignments."
"Of course, of course. Mustn't step on any Jedi toes, must we? They are so jealous of their political prerogatives. Still, I shall wonder at their collective wisdom if they choose someone else."
"As I said in my report, they've already assigned Obi-Wan to find Grievous." Because they want to keep me here, where I am supposed to spy on you.
"To find him, yes. But you are the best man to apprehend him—though of course the Jedi Council cannot always be trusted to do the right thing."
"They try. I—believe they try, sir."
"Do you still? Sit down." Palpatine looked at the other two beings in the box. "Leave us."
They rose and withdrew. Anakin took Mas Amedda's seat.
Palpatine gazed distractedly down at the graceful undulations of the Mon Calamari principal soloist for a long moment, frowning as though there was so much he wanted to say, he was unsure where to begin. Finally he sighed heavily and leaned close to Anakin.
"Anakin, I think you know by now that I cannot rely upon the Jedi Council. That is why I put you on it. If they have not yet tried to use you in their plot, they soon will."
Anakin kept his face carefully blank. "I'm not sure I understand."
"You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatine said grimly. "The Jedi Council is after more than independence from Senate oversight; I believe they intend to control the Republic itself."
"Chancellor—"
"I believe they are planning treason. They hope to overthrow my government, and replace me with someone weak enough that Jedi mind tricks can control his every word."
"I can't believe the Council—"
"Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?"
Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you . . ."
"Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, for that matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its own members according to its own rules—a less generous man than I might say whim—and gives them authority backed by power. They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat."
"I admit . . ." Anakin looked down at his hands. ". . . my faith in them has been . . . shaken."
"How? Have they approached you already? Have they ordered you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's. "They want you to spy on me, don't they?"
"I—"
"It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide."
"I—don't know what to say . . ."
"Do you remember," Palpatine said, drawing away from Anakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "how as a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried to teach you the ins and outs of politics?"
Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much care for the lessons."
"For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should have paid more attention. To understand politics is to understand the fundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you should remember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power are afraid to lose it."
"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little too firmly.
"Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one. Take your Dark Lords of the Sith, for example. From my reading, I have gathered that the Sith believed in justice and security every bit as much as the Jedi—"
"Jedi believe in justice and peace."
"In these troubled times, is there a difference?" Palpatine asked mildly. "The Jedi have not done a stellar job of bringing peace to the galaxy, you must agree. Who's to say the Sith might not have done better?"
"This is another of those arguments you probably shouldn't bring up in front of the Council, if you know what I mean," Anakin replied with a disbelieving smile.
"Oh, yes. Because the Sith would be a threat to the Jedi Order's power. Lesson one."
Anakin shook his head. "Because the Sith are evil."
"From a Jedi's point of view," Palpatine allowed. "Evil is a label we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? Yet the Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power."
"The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakin countered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—"
"Which brings with it greater power, does it not?"
"Well . . . yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know better than to argue with a politician."
"We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably. "Perhaps the real difference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orientation; a Jedi gains power through understanding, and a Sith gains understanding through power. This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most important aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allow themselves to love."
Except for me, Anakin thought. But then, I've never been exactly the perfect Jedi.
"The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear. They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why the Sith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel."
"The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "but when that passion runs dry, what's left?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runs dry at all. Who can say?"
"They think inward, only about themselves."
"And the Jedi don't?"
"The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flow of the Force. We care only about others . . ."
Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or so you've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?"
Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interesting than Palpatine's face. "I . . . don't know anymore."
"It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—one would, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe. Who's to say that a Sith, by looking inward, sees less than a Jedi does by looking out?"
"The Jedi—Jedi are good. That's the difference. I don't care who sees what."
"What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of very powerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you are loyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I have known you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?"
Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?"
"Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?"
"I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might have been telling the truth. It was possible. They might only want to catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpatine.
They might.
Maybe.
"Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violate the Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your own values?"
"Chancellor—"
"Think, Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think—yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith."
Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened in too short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense.
Except for what Palpatine said.
That made too much sense.
"This puts me in mind of an old legend," Palpatine murmured idly. "Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"
Anakin shook his head.
"Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master, life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearly enough—death itself."
Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? "He could keep someone safe from death?"
"According to the legend," Palpatine said, "he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?"
A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin's head. He murmured, "Stronger than death . . ."
"The dark side seems to be—from my reading—the pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural."
Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "What happened to him?"
"Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he has gained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it—that's why the Jedi Council brought him to mind, you know."
"But what happened?"
"Well, to safeguard his power's existence, he teaches the path toward it to his apprentice."
"And?"
"And his apprentice kills him in his sleep," Palpatine said with a careless shrug. "Plagueis never sees it coming. That's the tragic irony, you see: he can save anyone in the galaxy from death—except himself."
"What about the apprentice? What happens to him?"
"Oh, him. He goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord the Sith have ever known . . ."
"So," Anakin murmured, "it's only a tragedy for Plagueis—for the apprentice, the legend has a happy ending . . ."
"Oh, well, yes. Quite right. I'd never really thought of it that way—rather like what we were talking about earlier, isn't it?"
"What if," Anakin said slowly, almost not daring to speak the words, "it's not just a legend?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What if Darth Plagueis really lived—what if someone really had this power?"
"Oh, I am . . . rather certain . . . that Plagueis did indeed exist. And if someone actually had this power—well, he would indeed be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, not to mention virtually immortal . . ."
"How would I find him?"
"I'm sure I couldn't say. You could ask your friends on the Jedi Council, I suppose—but of course, if they ever found him they'd kill him on the spot. Not as punishment for any crime, you understand. Innocence is irrelevant to the Jedi. They would kill him simply for being Sith, and his knowledge would die with him."
"I just—I have to—" Anakin found himself half out of his seat, fists clenched and trembling. He forced himself to relax and sit back down, and he took a deep breath. "You seem to know so much about this, I need you to tell me: would it be possible, possible at all, to learn this power?"
Palpatine shrugged, regarding him with that smile of gentle wisdom.
"Well, clearly," he said, "not from a Jedi."