The Rise of Skywalker: Discussion

I honestly want to ask what this type of critical discussion is supposed to accomplish. I come online to talk about things I like in hopes of finding other observations that add to my enjoyment of the franchise. Now, when the prequel-bashers complained about George's handling of his films, the result was him selling the franchise to Disney, which, at least for a moment seemed to appease them. But now, it kinda seems like this is the end of Star Wars, at least the episodic film series. The sequels will almost certainly not be given back to George and rebooted, no matter what the fans are now saying.
Is is just a compulsion to complain? Is it fun to catalogue perceived shortcomings or missed opportunities? Is it just the comfort of proving oneself right, rationalizing and taking pride in dissatisfaction itself? I seriously want to know the motivation here, because if I found myself doing it, I would feel like an atheist disrupting a church service.

Cryo hasn't said a word. And it seems I'm the only one here for worship.

You notice the part where it mentions solution-seeking. I still haven't gotten an explanation as to what the chronic complaining is meant to accomplish. Maybe Disney will just do what George did and just give up.

Edit: Youtube is a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Little Plinkets, everywhere!

I've posted many thoughts on this film in this and other threads. Pointing out that Lucas lies is not an attack on Lucas. You just can't believe what he says on the face of it. It's like when my favorite band Devo says they're never doing another show. It's just something they say that isn't true.

As far as rebutting your negativity by picking it apart, that's not fun. I'm retired from bash-busting. I'd rather just talk about the movie as it exists instead of what I wish it could have been.

Btw, Pyro knows of this so-called "fake positivity" and I can't wait for Cryo to chime in. And I still am wondering what all this "legitimate criticism" is meant to accomplish.

Howdy, folks! Finally saw TROS this evening (or yesterday now -- as it has ticked past midnight this side of the Atlantic). Skipping past the rest of this thread for the moment, here are my initial thoughts:

Film was a visionary or pseudo-visionary experience. Better than TFA in many respects: more pacy, more urgent, visually bolder, and perhaps more moving. But better than TLJ? I dunno. Rian Johnson's picture still feels more daring this instant. In any case, I can say that TROS is a solid piece of entertainment, and a fine time at the multiplex. 

But, of course, we need to go a bit deeper:

** SPOILERS ABOUND **

Firstly, I was consistently impressed by the visual flare of the movie. No pun intended. Even the way it started kinda grabbed me. I enjoyed the teaser-ish nature of the starting sequence with Kylo. Quite a JJ-esque thing to do, but it also reminded me, structurally, of how ROTJ opens. Some very good sound design in this part, also, with that creepy lightning effect on the Sith planet. Big win. If you think about it, both JJ entries open with early flashes or a strobing effect of some kind. Kind of neat.

Heck, even the first words of the opening crawl were a delightful blend of cheesy and creepy. Nicely synced, I felt, with the first spoken words of the movie by Palpatine. Something ancient awakening. The early confluence of these events set the tone of the picture, or revealed its form, quite well: TROS is less, in some senses, a "saga" film, and more an EU-ish comic book spinoff in the guise of a saga entry. Like TFA on acid.

Can I also just say how much I enjoyed that weird "hyperspace hopping" maneuver that occurs at least twice in the film? I did feel that same thing was implied in how Luke went to the island before. But everyone just called it stupid. TROS chose to finally show it. Like how a first-person, through-the-cockpit view of entering hyperspace is denied to the viewer in the PT, but is carefully inserted into each movie of the OT. Anyway, I think the film had some really neat visual execution in moments. At other times, its artistry was maybe a bit more transparent and TV-ish; but it is elevated by these more inspired and artistic sleights of hand and entertaining set-pieces (especially the Rey-Kylo encounters) that give it an almost febrile, anime-ish identity. If Abrams held back in TFA, he decided to show what he's made of in TROS.

Staying with the positives here, I was thrilled with how Rey uses her saber -- or sabers -- in this film. Every scene of her hacking and slashing was, for want of a better expression, deliriously solid. Almost orgasmic. Even the "torch" gag in the cavern was amusing and warmly reverential. I also think that Rey looked very striking in this film. I was never thrilled with her costuming in the former movies (although it fit the visual schemes of those films perfectly well), but here, she had this beautiful angel-white flowing robe that looked terrific, especially when she moved or turned at speed. Shallow male comment: I even saw some definition on Rey's butt cheeks this time. I got the impression that Daisy Ridley really worked out for this one. Even her arms were a little thick. There was little to nothing that screamed "beefcake" to me about Rey in VII and VIII (though the red guard fight in TLJ was obviously tiring and difficult for both principal actors), but finally, at the end of the saga, she looks and moves more like a badass, without sacrificing the feline sleekness of her slender frame. In short, she finally had the right physical authority to sell her quiet maturation, and it was fun watching a female Jedi lighting up the screen -- or lighting up *on* the screen -- at long last.

I also thought Rey's skill set was depicted quite satisfyingly in this film. From healing to (accidental) lightning to performing great leaps and somersaults, and precision saber-cutting, she finally seemed like an authentic superhero, and not one who just *did* stuff (or rather: barely did stuff) in the former films. Again, the physical matched up more with her internal dynamism, making her seem like more of a formidable opponent for Kylo and the Emperor and a slick heroine in her own right. After all, in the PT, Jedi are able to perform all manner of impressive tricks. Rey would have ended up being quite the damp squib -- as, to me, she was in danger of becoming -- if she didn't end up having a decent box of skills arranged and shown off in an organic and luminous manner. Of course, TROS still rests on the questionable edifice of VII and VIII, but the last film does what it can to work with that and try and pay it off. It might not be perfect, but I can buy its underlying logic -- largely *because* Rey's brilliance with the Force is more vigorously and purposefully demonstrated. If the gear stick was aggressively forced in VII and VIII, the engine purrs a bit more naturally in TROS; even if some of the mechanics of the car are still a bit kludgy.

Here's something else I loved: Rey and Kylo's encounter in the desert. What was that about? Yeah: Kylo explains it was to get Rey to understand the dark legacy of her powers. But there's this weird, dream-like quality to their encounter. To all their encounters. What was Rey doing there? Flirting with the Dark Side and not even aware of it. Look at her delight/relief when she thinks she has possibly done Kylo in. Only to then release a greater torrent of hatred when she and Kylo tussle over that helpless transport that gets violently jostled around with their Force arm-wrestle. That moment was surprisingly intense. Daisy really came through in this film with her acting. She sold a lot more than what was evidently written on the page. The reverse might apply to Kelly Marie Tran. Great in TLJ, but JJ obviously didn't know what to do with her -- if he cared at all. Sorry. Gonna stick with positives for a while longer. Just loved that desert sequence. Holy cowabunga, was that an amazing standoff! I'm glad they didn't kill Chewie off, but the shock outcome was needed to jolt Rey into a much-welcome moment of soul-searching. I think there could have been a bit more of that. As gorgeous and luminous as the film was in its best moments, a good deal of it remains desperately obvious. Nothing like Palpatine's smooth orations to Anakin in ROTS. But I'll come onto that shortly.  

The Rey-Kylo encounters in TROS were a fitting continuation of what JJ set up and RJ abstractly expanded in TLJ. The Kylo-Rey material, even if not super fleshed out (a serious strike against the film generally) is the obvious highlight of the movie, just as it was in TLJ and TFA. These two almost seem to exist (quite literally as their encounters are portrayed and mediated by the "force" of the cinematic mechanism) in a vacuum; with a more mundane plot logic built around them. A lover's tryst in a world of bores. Now, I did skim this thread, ever so briefly, and notice someone expressing -- or reporting on someone else expressing -- a problem with their kiss at the end. But that completely worked for me. I was running a commentary in my head at that moment: "I bet the Reylo fanatics are loving this." And conversely: "I bet the Reylo haters are cramping in their seats." I think the resolution of their entire arc was the cleanest and most poignant way of doing it, given all the voices in the fandom for and against their bond, and all the reasons supplied to buttress views on both ends of the Rey-Kylo spectrum. The film smashes it in all their scenes, first to last, and the movie is insidiously compelling when they're on the screen together. But like the CG dinosaurs in the original "Jurassic Park", it's never for too long -- a testament to restraint and careful management of vital resources; but also, perhaps, leaving one longing for a bit more, and maybe a few more brush strokes, a deeper explication...

If there's a particular aesthetic appeal to the Sequel Trilogy, it may be the trilogy's surprisingly spartan nature -- its curious sense of inhibition, almost prohibition (midi-chlorians are clearly this trilogy's hardcore bootleg liquor), and the sly reliance on totems (certain characters, certain ships, certain sabers, certain incidents and echoes), without massively disassembling those totems or always doing a great deal to go beyond them. Is it a ruse? A ploy to make money? Some labyrinthine revivalist architecture? Is this all an elaborate resurrection ritual? Some kind of elder worship? An encomium to one trilogy, the tardy yet fastidious privileging of one set of mythic touchstones, over another? So much of the Sequel Trilogy clearly takes place in the shade of the olive grove that is the Original Trilogy. It's almost like rival gospel writings. Two variations of the Good News. Skywalker has arisen!

And that may be the film's cleverest conceit -- even if a conceit it be. Rey is a Skywalker. I don't think the message here is that anyone can be a Skywalker. She still knew actual Skywalkers. She trod their paths. She battled the dark (if only a bit) and resolved to remain on the side of the light. She is incredibly virtuous in this film. Almost -- like the former movies -- unbelievably so. But she'd have to be pretty virtuous for that conceit to work; for it to make any real sense at all. I think it does. The Sequel Trilogy is touchingly about an orphan finding her place in the world and choosing to be one thing over another. Just as Kylo earlier rejected his father's legacy in favour of his grandfather's, so Rey recognises that she was rightfully a Skywalker all along. Maybe not in blood, but in mood and temperament. And given the exchange in "Force Energy" between Rey and Kylo, why can't she be a Skywalker? Is that not her family line now? Has she not restored life to the Skywalker family and been restored to life by the Skywalker family? Think also of the classic struggle between Judaism and Christianity. Is the revelation for one set of people or all of mankind? Consider Paul's words in Romans 2:14-15: "For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them." I also think a good deal of the trick is concealed or conserved by TLJ. Really, Episode VIII is Luke's story. He is essentially both the last and the first Jedi. The seed and the sapling all at once. It's like what Van Gogh saw in his beloved sunflowers: Life, death, renewal. How a thing is both begotten and begats: The ultimate victory over mortality and finitude (or, ahem, finnitude). Luke essentially founds the Jedi anew. As if he were always destined to be, well... Skywalker. So "The Rise Of Skywalker" is another dyad or even a triad: the ultimate victory over death and defeat as embodied by Luke, Rey, and Kylo. How the light is patient and will always win in the longer arc of history. Star Wars is very nearly now the final word on this concept. At least in cinematic form. A stirring achievement.

But there are problems here. The script had some moments (especially Rey's last line to Kylo/Ben on the water planet), but largely felt flat and obvious -- probably the most awkwardly signposted and derivative Star Wars screenplay that's ever made it to the screen. So many little nuggets of exposition and cliche character moments ("No, I'm coming with you" and a million dirty bedfellows) that you could basically drive a tractor through them all. And you might need a fleet of them of "Final Order" proportions. I won't linger on this point, however. Screenplays have never been the series' high-point (despite the obvious paradox that they contain highs). Also, the film felt incredibly patchy, especially early on. To echo Ben Burtt from "The Beginning" (yes, this issue has often dogged the series, but TROS was this same issue on overdrive): "Seems like a lot of short scenes." And boy, were there. JJ's films, with the possible exception of "Super 8", have never felt lived-in. I knew this would be an issue in TROS. But it was still there a bit too often. I literally had the word "frenetic" in my head, like the two-bit critic I often am, while watching. Slow that intercutting down, JJ. Show us something. Let us *feel* it. Yes -- embrace your movie's own mock-philosophic motifs. There was a lot of ADHD-like back and forth. Star Wars on Adderall. Slightly too much jerkiness to come away thinking this thing *wasn't* thrown together and spliced together somewhat awkwardly and last-minute. Even though, it must be said, the film's operatic grace notes allow it to get away with a certain amount of stayed-up-all-night finals cramming.

Another demerit I have to talk about: Was the music by John Williams or an imitator? I couldn't tell. The old race horse needs to be put out to pasture. Perhaps like the saga itself. There were some punchy moments, but little of it landed with the sort of brio and finesse Williams is famous for. I feel that TFA had a pretty solid score. Not on the level of TESB or the prequels, but respectable. Plucky, almost. TLJ, on the other hand, landed with a musical thunk for me. And subsequently put *me* in a thunk -- or a funk. However, on repeat views, I did manage to appreciate the music a bit more, especially at the end. Maybe the same will happen with TROS. But it was musically underwhelming, more often than not, and I find that regretful. People can easily forget that ROTJ introduced a lot of new material: The Emperor's Theme, the exciting battle music, the March Of The Ewoks, that awesome piece that plays when Luke almost gives into the Dark Side and incapacitates Vader, Yoda's moving death dirge, and the rousing piece that plays at the end of the sail barge sequence. I can't remember anything of that distinction from my lone viewing of TROS. Of course, I enjoyed hearing the Emperor's music again, and Rey's theme, and all the other bits, but very little of it felt fresh, original, or vital. Now, you might argue, this is the end of the saga -- after eight films, who cares about originality? Well, I do. Each of the films should be musically distinct and reasonably adventurous. I am not sure that was the case this time around.

Swinging back to a slight positive: It was good to see Threepio get more of a role this time around. I also enjoyed Hux's betrayal. The heroism of both characters is mostly played as a joke, yet even these characters are afforded a drop of dignity, in a fitting reminder that good deeds, whether done out of friendship or (perversely) a kind of spiteful anti-friendship, can still shape the weave of life for the better. That is the measure of quiet profundity sometimes on offer in TROS. Even in its more overt wink-nudge moments like Chewie being gifted his long-overdue medal at the end. Forget the fact that Chewie didn't necessarily desire a medal at the end of ANH. It's still a nice symbolic gesture. Call it the Force being brought into deeper balance. I also enjoyed seeing the Ewoks again at the end; if only for a spare instant. Kathleen, there *were* Ewoks in *this* movie! Shame about cut planets, but there were already quite a lot of environments here. And JJ obviously likes his Earth-based settings. I liked the Japanese-style feudal town that gets obliterated by The Final Order. How's that for a stab at World War II American imperialism? Well done, JJ. You did better with your settings this time. Threepio's sweets line on the desert planet was also hilarious. I'm serious. I was the only one that chuckled, but damn, that was funny. He was humanised in this film. Which brings me onto something...

Did anyone else notice how the dialogue constantly had this synonym-antonym or a retort-riposte punctuating manner about it? Like when Threepio says "wonderful job" (or whatever the adjective was), followed by "terrible job" a moment later? It was beyond the point of cliche. I decided to see it as a fitting homage to the way the dialogue often does a similar thing in ROTS: "It's only because I'm so in love"/"No, it's because I'm so in love with you"; "He's a traitor!"/"He is the traitor!"; "Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil"/"From my point of view, the Jedi are evil", etc. Or a variant more in-keeping with the way this phenomenon manifests in TROS (one of my favourite moments in ROTS): "From the Sith?"/"From himself". Well, I guess you had to be there...

The side characters are not really done justice in TROS. It is clearly Rey and Kylo's movie. I'm not sure how I feel about that. If I focus in on Rey and Kylo, I mostly think the movie does a commendable job. If I think about all the other characters -- and there are rather a lot of them -- then the movie falls desperately short. It's "The Rey And Kylo Hour" with friends. Hangers-on. Honourable mention to Threepio again. He at least (semi) stands out. The others all tend to blur together. Occasionally, there is the rumbling of other "Force Dyads" not explored. Poe and Finn, for instance. Or the film making a point (or so it seemed to me) of (wait for it) two black characters sometimes speaking to each other. Gays and blacks! Society is doomed, I tells you. Even with all its screwy emphasis on diversity, Disney doesn't want to fly its rainbow flag too high, let alone drape it over the back of a dashing unicorn. Even a white one. So there is all this chasteness and conservative holding-back everywhere. For example, in a scene that could have gone somewhere, you have young black characters that reveal they both awakened (or became "woke" -- ain't that dope?) from stormtrooper conditioning (i.e., white plastic "men" no more), only to be... black people revealing they awakened from stormtrooper conditioning: i.e., bland ciphers. All so we can get a cynical retread of the Luke-Vader conflict in ROTJ. Yawn... Okay, so there's the cynical side of me talking, but am I wrong? Yes, I'm probably wrong, or only half-correct. I was born that way. If nothing else, the film exemplifies Qui-Gon's maxim: Your focus determines your reality. Since the bond between Rey and Kylo is really the film's core concern (and there's no reason it wouldn't have been), everything else plays second fiddle to it, for better or worse. Much as what happens between Vader and Luke in ROTJ...

So, basically, in TROS, we get to witness the buffing of another diamond, or the serving of another pizza, that might be served in better surroundings, enjoyed by customers in a fancier establishment, but it's still the same pizza baked in the same oven. Maybe just the mushrooms have been swapped for anchovies. Is that an improvement? Does it lead to some radically heightened view of the world and one's place within it? That's what I'm still mulling over. I might be mulling it over a while.

And, sometimes, that same pizza (if you dwell on the taste instead of wolfing it down -- not sure which is the more sensible strategy with pizza) produces a sort of bland sensation. An inferior experience masked with added fat and salt. The Emperor's dialogue in TROS, for example, is jejune and insulting. I mean, not outright bad. Just, sort of... there. He chastises Rey and talks about legacy. Strike me down, bla bla bla... JJ and co-writer Chris Terrio even give him that memorable line from ROTS about the Dark Side being "a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural." They might as well have been boasting that Star Wars is an excuse to rehash old plot points and designs that some consider to be a cash grab. On the other hand, if you're feeling more generous, it's nice that ROTS is so explicitly referred to so early on. Palpatine's basic depiction was also creepy and memorable. A blind gollum being ghoulishly animated/ambulated Borg Queen-like with a large technological appendage suspended from a high ceiling. A sort of in-series metaphor for the recycling of the former esoteric life of the saga as it limps to an overly-grandiose conclusion. Harsh, but there's something to it, I think.

TROS is almost painfully self-conscious throughout. A certain amount of fruit is produced that way, but the wine you get from it tastes a bit... off. However, some of the throwbacks, especially to TFA, really work. I also enjoyed the glib references to TLJ. Especially Luke scolding Rey and telling her that a Jedi weapon (the very lightsaber he chucked off the cliff in the Rian Johnson movie) should be treated with more respect! Ha! Pithy on so many levels, the pith gets stuck between your teeth. More pithy than pithy. Well, you get the idea. In that Star Wars way, one little line can have so many layers, it's like chiselling rock. The Rian Johnson movie was obviously being sent up a little bit. But such wry humour, especially in the Luke example, allows it to work. However, while TROS takes note of TLJ and even draws inspiration from it, it doesn't forget its older brother, TFA -- like when ROTJ quotes ANH and ROTS echoes TPM. I guess I like these "bookmark" callbacks the best. Even when TROS is cheeky enough to re-use footage from TFA, there is a palpable immediacy to it. The footage used helped in rendering Rey and Kylo's intertwined journeys an ounce more vivid. I also liked the callbacks to Rey's scavenger past, both in the dialogue and in Rey's dexterity, from her swinging up that abandoned Death Star structure to sledding down the interior of the homestead at the end. Both moments, aside from being visually cute, helped to reinforce the notion that Rey is the Jedi's real prospect. Much like Jar Jar (come on: I had to give him a mention), she retains her own set of impulses, displaying a primal vigour: an elegantly pictorial way of emphasising how Rey is somehow more "earth-aware" than her forebears, and a lively reminder of how she relies on the plenitude of her own resources. Those other Jedi are stored inside of her (I guess the midi-chlorians are brought in via a right-angle plot fudge), but Rey remains a free spirit, even when on what seems like a preordained trajectory. A glorious depiction of the light fantastic.    

But TROS not infrequently stumbles; even when it seems to be trying to be poetic and profound. In what might simultaneously be the most beautiful and yet the most stingy and clayfooted ending of all time: Rey basically concludes her journey where Luke concluded his. Okay, not literally where he concluded (rather: where he started -- plot twist!), but she's the same age, the same sort of mentality, has the same outlook, the same redeemer-reformer avatar. Where does she go next? What's the next bit in *her* story? Why leave her in the same place? As Mark Hamill once said: Luke's story finishes just after he receives his "License To Kill" (or not kill). Equally: The First/Final Order is toppled much as the Empire was at the end of ROTJ. But as the Sequel Trilogy enjoyed throwing in people's faces, the Empire survived and reformed with a new name and near-identical mission. What's to stop the same happening again? Or are we meant to interpret Rey defeating Palpatine (a Palpatine ending a Palpatine) as a game-changing moment? Is that meant to button the galaxy up and put a block on the Empire/First Order ever re-reforming again? If not, it's really a cop-put ending that puts the galaxy in a similar place to where it ended up at the close of the OT. Even though the ST is buttoned up in a smart manner by returning to the homestead (and the ghosts of Luke and Leia, I felt, were somewhat evoking the cover design of the 2011 "Complete Saga" Blu-ray release), you're left feeling they've said everything and nothing with these sequel films -- deliberately refusing to paint themselves into a corner, leaving the franchise entirely open-ended to allow for maximal milking down the road. So the question is: What wins out at the close of the ST? Art or commerce? 

That seems like the inevitable question to have at the close of the ST. On some level, it is also impossible to avoid seeing the echo -- one of hundreds -- with ROTS (and the OT in general). Everything goes back to those Tatooine suns. Infinitely. There is no Star Wars outside of Star Wars. Nothing beyond its own rhythmically-precise framing and deliberate autotuning. Rey is stuck in a matrix. The Sequel Trilogy is like a fake Picasso. There's something gross and disgusting about it. Yet it also has a clammy, clangy, even eloquent beauty. It goes back to gaze at the horizon. As Luke was shown doing at almost the end of TLJ. It doesn't want to completely set and kiss goodbye to its own horizon; even though it seems reluctant to move to new horizons and stop gazing at old ones. Your thoughts dwell on your mother. The mother suns. But you cannot stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting. Oh, but you can stop them. Or you can keep contriving to look at them setting anew. The universe is like that. It affords many view of the same (or nearly the same) thing. No true repeats; only to people not sensitive to differences. Perhaps that is the real legacy of the ST. Let us upgrade our awareness and see the more delicate fabric at work -- the hidden roughness and subtle texture of the piece. Is it real or just a mirage? Does this trilogy have a beating heart? What about those gravity wells mentioned by Rose? Are there hidden depths, secret grottos, concealed interstices? Again: What of all that weird hyperspace jumping? There may be something truly visionary at work in the Sequel Trilogy. Entombed beneath a thick layer of ice. Blast your Millennium Falcon through the ice wall and prepare to strafe through multiple systems to reach your destination. If you're daring enough, it must just work.  

That's probably what JJ said when he saw Lucas' treatments. 

In any case, I gave a summary at the start of my post -- for the slow/lazy people. I cater to all.  

You know I read the whole thing. I'm still processing the ST as a whole. It might be my favorite of the trilogies, being as unpredictable as it was. TFA has yet to grow on me very much, as much as I like the characters and some of the cinematography (SOME). Now that my initial enthusiasm for TROS has waned a bit, I can see that it's perhaps too derivative, like TFA, though as the conclusion to the saga, at least it feels appropriate, and I suppose the same could be said for TFA as a new introduction. Overall, it's TLJ that gave this trilogy some much-needed depth and progression.

Another thing I've noticed in retrospect is that Star Wars as a series has come such a long way. The acting, and in some respects, the dialogue in the ST is the best of the saga. Re-watching ANH last week, I finally noticed just how abysmal it all plays out in the OT. They can blame George Lucas's lines all they want, but it's clear that the younger members of the cast couldn't take any of it seriously. Peter Cushing, James Earl Jones, and Sir Alec do their job with respect, but Harrison, Carrie, and Mark are clearly just fucking around, and none of them were very good actors to begin with. I've seen better acting in porno movies on Cinemax. Even their auditions were better than what ended up in the films. And frankly, the original cast doesn't do much better in the ST. It's really Daisy and Adam who finally give this saga a bit of grounded-ness. The PT, to its credit, kept it campy to compliment the style of the original movies. The ST, while it lacks its own identity in its overall story of Empire vs Rebellion at least succeeded in finding a quiet, personal connection between sensitive, spiritual people, amidst the noise of an immature sci-fi war-fantasy. And the overt messages of learning from failure and changing your fate reinforce the religious message of the overarching saga. I'm glad that Lucasfilm has not forgotten that this is a story about fathers and sons (and mothers and daughters) and that Star Wars is not just any actiony superhero franchise, it's religious fiction. Do I think George Lucas could have made more interesting movies? Probably. Maybe. At this point, I realize that all the movies are flawed in one way or another, and that the ST we got, from the hands of the real world, outside the confines of Lucas's pet concepts, may be more true to the core of the story than anything we saw from the previous trilogies.

I figured you had. I also read your review in full after posting. Plenty to comment back on there. I know some mud began to fly around then, but you gave one of the most substantive contributions to the thread of everything I read. I am not knocking other parties, to be clear, but if anyone brought a good deal of positive thinking points to the thread, it was you.



Your thoughts echo mine. TFA is probably the most derivative of the bunch -- or, let's say, the safest. While TLJ, I think, is undoubtedly the most daring, giving this trilogy the shake-up it needed. I'm not sure exactly how I'd describe TROS at present. It's definitely more outlandish and garish than TFA, but I wouldn't call that a bad thing. For better or worse, all three strongly reprise plot elements and situations from the OT, but it feels like there is more blood running through the veins of the trilogy in VIII and IX. The real letdown of the pack is TFA, in my estimation. Yet, paradoxically, without TFA being done the way it was, you wouldn't have VIII and IX taking the form they do and contrasting against it. 

If there's something about the prequels that gives me a real buzz, it's how TPM is this awesomely complete thing: very gauche and layered in its own right. I mean, the film drips personality, like all of Lucas' films. In the case of TFA, you have a much more reactionary and narrow experience, even if still contains a germ of an artistic idea or two, and I find it almost ridiculous to think of placing the same worth on each. Yet I also have a degree of nostalgia for TFA. Just the way my life was going -- or not going -- back then. The timing of it and what have you. That gives TFA a bit of added heft. It doesn't necessarily deserve heaps of praise, but it's decently made, and led on to superior things.


I like some frank speaking! The original is a pretty tough watch next to pretty much any of the other movies. I can see why fans like TESB more. And ROTS. And "Rogue One". However, the lighthearted "attack" of the actors is what gives the original its charm and its particularised identity. It's this clunky, trashy, sassy movie -- and it knows it. The Death Star scenes are insanely enjoyable because of the chemistry of the leads. They almost seem to be doing their own thing, either because of or in spite of Lucas' famously taciturn direction. It's grand fun. There's a real loosey-goosey energy (thanks, Ingram!) about it that none of the others have. TFA certainly proved you can't capture lightning in a bottle a second time by forcing it. Lucas wisely steered around that whole concept in the PT and did something entirely different.


Yeah. If there's one fan-based form of "worship" that really helped me get some of my thinking straight on the ST, it might be some of those Reylo blogs that are out there. Not only are there some decent essays/meditations, but some of the fan-made artwork that exists on the pair is quite stunning. It's funny how you refer to them as "Daisy and Adam". Adam and Eve. AD. Anno Domini. Adam Driver. The symbolism of daisies:

www.ftd.com/blog/share/daisy-meaning-and-symbolism

Daisies symbolize innocence and purity. This stems from an old Celtic legend. According to the legend, whenever an infant died, God sprinkled daisies over the earth to cheer the parents up.

In Norse mythology, the daisy is Freya’s sacred flower. Freya is the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, and as such the daisy came by symbolize childbirth, motherhood, and new beginnings. Daisies are sometimes given to congratulate new mothers.

They also mean chastity and transformation because of the Roman myth of Vertumnus and Belides. Vertumnus, god of seasons and gardens, became enamored with Belides, a nymph. He continuously pursued her, and in order to escape his affections she turned herself into a daisy. Daisy’s scientific name Bellis, stems from this story.

Daisy’s are composite flowers, meaning that they actually consist of two flowers combined into one. The inner section is called a disc floret, and the outer petal section is called a ray floret. Because daisies are composed of two flowers that blend together so well, they also symbolize true love.

Given these resonances, you have to love all that vegetation imagery in the JJ installments. Kylo pursuing Rey. "Ray" florets. Two flowers that blend together, symbolising love. Reylo was just made to happen. It's all there.

But anyway, I was away with the fairies again there, wasn't I? Back to your observations:

I did lament the lack of overt 1930s "Flash Gordon" camp in the Disney films before. But they have charms of their own. That said, there's little confusing them with, say, AOTC, which is a much more mannered and wackadoodle experience. The way the Disney films open is hyper-suggestive: that ugly machine-grey Lucasfilm logo! They're basically telling you what they are from the start. It's like something in mourning.  

Really great observation here:

"The ST, while it lacks its own identity in its overall story of Empire vs Rebellion at least succeeded in finding a quiet, personal connection between sensitive, spiritual people, amidst the noise of an immature sci-fi war-fantasy."

That's phenomenally put! Exactly. There's a lot to unpack there. I know that ST bashers will probably be confused -- perhaps even outraged -- at the suggestion that Rey and Kylo are "sensitive, spiritual people", but that nails it. Oh, boy. And yes, let's not forget the contrast you've evoked there: "amidst the noise of an immature sci-fi war-fantasy". That is exactly what gives the ST a measure of grace and intelligence. These gifted, lonely individuals, bonded through all that noise. To paraphrase Pyro: a voice in the noise. If the ST brings anything to the table, it brings at least that much. And that's not nothing.

In retrospect, we can probably say that each of the trilogies has its own balance, its own sense of sturm und drang, its own raison d'etre. In short: personality and flavour. Or if you like: texture and timbre. It's the unique gravitational focus of each that makes the three trilogies as a combined family fascinating. Go to the center of gravity's pull and find your missing planet you will. Yoda was basically instructing everyone to accept the idea that every trilogy (and every movie) has a particular pull, and when you go to the center of that pull, you'll find life, technology, civilisation, manufacturing, meaning. The cosmic lint left over after the switching on of starlight is where every trilogy does its dance. 

Space fanta--what? That's the only name they ever gave me. Well, I ain't using it. SF, huh? I'm gonna call you religious fiction. Yeah! I like that! Once again, that's exceptionally well-phrased and well-observed. It definitely has enormous religious undertones and overtones. They're just bursting out of the chest of Star Wars always. It's like the logo at the start, coming on big and strong, and kindly receding, like the container-title is saying: "I'm gonna get out of the way now. There's reading into this thing to be done. Explore this thing with your own terms and come to your own conclusions." Yet the series seems to be hoping -- even if only subconsciously -- you conclude it has overt religious dimensions and spiritual implications. Or as my signature has it:

"I have a great admiration for George Lucas. I like him as a person. He's very serious and gentle. These films are very well-intentioned. All right, they make tremendous amounts of money and appeal to kids, but they say good things, and they say them in a broad way. I believe in the Star Wars films."

-- Ian McDiarmid, May 1984, Starlog #82

I'm on something of a Vincent Van Gogh kick at the moment. I was just reading this earlier. Could very easily apply to Star Wars -- which Lucas has long stressed is intended primarily for children:

tedmacaluso.com/2016/05/10/review-the-artist-and-me/

Stories of real life–whether it is the dark side of bullying and fear of things that are different, on the one hand, or, on the other, the bright side of courage, compassion, standing up for oneself, choosing a path in life, or overcoming adversity–are important for children. Finding those themes in the context of the arts gives the readers of such books an experience that goes beyond facts and inspires them to think about their own life choices. Such books make art more fun and relevant for children.

Swap a few of the words out and that could easily describe this epic cinematic happening we're so enamoured with. In many ways, even if TROS is obvious and less ambitious than Lucas would have gone, it still concludes the story admirably. I'm echoing you again. That's my way of saying I agree. Some things deserve to be chanted like a chorus. 

I also think you advance an interesting idea there at the end. Can a work by other people be more true to the core of something than when it's done by the original artist? On some levels, it's hard to see how that can be the case. And yet, maybe it's possible for some people to analyse something a certain way, catch a glimmer of something, and build their own thing that brings fresh insight into what was done by a predecessor. It's like different movements in music or painting. Different schools of art can have equally valid points of view.

And isn't that a core concept in itself? That as Obi-Wan said: you'll find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Imagine Star Wars morphing, as Lucas once claimed of the saga, into a Cubist painting. Lucas does a bit and then other people take over. Maybe some form of Nu-Cubism. Collective Cubism. Or whatever. But I get what you mean. Rey and Kylo's connection satisfyingly expresses the inherent duality of the saga. Literally good and evil. Clarifying what is dark and cruel, and what patience and compassion are all about, poignantly illustrated through two lost souls trying to find their place in the universe.

Heck, if you go back to the tagline of the original film, this dynamic is clearly played out in the sequels, with as much poignancy as you could ever hope for:

"The story of a boy, a girl, and a universe."

At its heart, Star Wars is really an innocent tale:

The story of a boy, a girl, and a universe in three epic configurations.

(Or four, perhaps, if you count the Finn-Rose pairing and their wild adventure in TLJ).

Yet, dare I say it (?), it's the final configuration that has the most impact -- and it carries the legacy of the former ones through to completion.

That smile from Kylo at the end. How extraordinary, how moving! How exquisitely cinematic, gorgeous, and perfect.

"Here's looking at you, kid."
"It was Beauty killed the Beast."

Yes, even in regards to cinematography there's a jarring difference between Lucas' movies and this new trilogy.

George Lucas has always approached filmmaking from documentary standpoint. The camera is rarely active, it's observational by stylistic nature. There's an subtlety and humility to it, it takes a step back, it's not "in your face".

Abrams is literally the opposite, and in regards to Star Wars, he makes no effort to be consistent in style with the rest of the saga. I used to think that it was a byproduct of his TV background, but no. That doesn't hold. I wouldn't even compare it with Michael Bay. The latter's cinematography is not careless and is much more aesthetically pleasing.