Nostalgia and What This New Trilogy of Star Wars Films Is Getting Right
Warning: Below I will be getting into spoiler territory for The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. I won’t be talking about Rogue One as this piece is focusing strictly on the latest trilogy of Star Wars films.
THE FORCE IN OUR BLOOD: FEEDING THE BEAST
Sufferers of the malady used to be institutionalized for — what physicians of the time believed to be — abnormal emotion detrimental to the soul. Soldiers of war were among the most susceptible. Generals, 17th century Swiss Generals in particular, even instituted preemptive measures in the hopes their infantry could avoid the illness. For example, it was well known that the popular milking song of the day, “Khue-Reyen”, was as much a contributor to the so-called disease as dehydration is a primary contributor to fever. And so, anyone who sang or played instrument to “Khue-Reyen” were put to death for fear the folky lyrics and melody would plague their encampments with sickness. It is no surprise then that it was a Swiss physician, Johannes Hofer, who defined the malady with the combination of Greek words: nóstos and álgos, more or less translated as “homesickness”.
These emotions went beyond a mere forelonging for a familiar physical space, however. “Homesickness” doesn’t quite do it, it isn’t complete enough. These emotions were also about a place in time and the experiences that resulted in the memories in those places and of those times. Without those experiences, without the emotions those experiences formed, that sense of “sickness for home” is flaccid, a memory purely of architecture and landscape.
Consider someone longing for a home since destroyed and abandoned. They cannot be consoled by a return to that place the same way another returns to a home filled with family and friends. For the former, it ceases to even be “home”; it is a place absent of consolation. For consolation, the home must live.
I wonder how Luke would have reacted in A New Hope had he and Old Ben returned in time to fight off the Stormtroopers who laid waste to his home. Would his conciliatory reunion with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, coupled with fond memories of binary sunsets, have been enough to guilt young Skywalker into staying on that moisture farm on Tatooine? Or would this last visit home have satisfied the young man’s misgivings about taking on his fateful adventure?
It’s hard to say. With the deaths of his foster parents, Luke instead tells Obi Wan Kenobi, “There’s nothing for me here, now.” And so Luke, who has always been one who focused on the horizon, springs to action and whether he realizes it or not, is suddenly part of a rebel movement against the Galactic Empire. There’s nothing left for him on Tatooine. The moisture farm does not live.
By the time of the American Civil War, more humane remedies included the application of leeches to the skin of the infected, with the aim that victims would be cured by the powers of the worm, Hirudo medicinalis. Homesickness was more than a psychological condition. The ailment was believed to exist, quite literally, in our blood.
Today there is a cure for nostalgia that goes beyond leeches or sojourns within mental institutions. Today’s cure for nostalgia is to not even seek a cure. Instead, feed the beast with new experiences that best capture the moments for which we most long. Embrace it. We have accepted nostalgia as, philosophically, a neutral condition.
From an economic and capitalist perspective, nostalgia is the furthest thing from any sort of malady. It’s an economic elixir. Our culture of consumption celebrates nostalgia in all forms. My wife fashions her hair to include “Betty Bangs” in the tradition of the old pinup models. My parent’s generation, the Baby Boomers, had nearly all of their childhood and teenage era shows adapted into commercial films. We exist in the Era of Remakes (and endless sequels). We aren’t even satisfied with remakes within a medium. A game may be remade or sequelized but we must also have a television adaptation and an inevitable film version and — lest we forget — the musical.
I am no stranger to nostalgia consumption. I own a Stormtrooper mug and another mug based on the movie-based-on-the-board game, Clue. On my lazy Sundays, or ever-rare trips to the gym, I like to wear branded tees of retro pop culture; the Ghostbusters logo, Jim Henson’s Muppets mimicking The Beatles Abbey Road cover and, naturally, various Star Wars prints. These t-shirts often get a nod of acceptance or verbal approval from others when I wear them. I love that shirt so much! I need to get me one of those! We are more than nostalgia adopters, we are nostalgia facilitators. It’s part of the business of being an American.
It is difficult to say whether or not this cure-by-consumption has proved successful or even if it’s a good thing. How are we defining such a thing, anyway? There are so many ways to measure its success or failure, whether it’s good or bad. Artistically, I’d argue it’s been a failure. But even a bad adaptation of Transformers might scratch the itch of an adult with fond memories of Optimus Prime, Cheetara and He-Man. Is this a psychological success? Is a bad Michael Bay movie ironically good for the soul? Nonetheless, the cure of feeding the masses these nostalgia transports has become a disease of its own. It is a disease of imagination, or rather the viral lack thereof.
Nostalgia is no small part of the Star Wars brand’s success. And I kind of embrace the concept of nostalgia existing within our veins. I love the idea that Star Wars is in my blood, as much a part of me as any memory or organ. When the prequels arrived in 1999, however, blood spilt.
THE FORCE WOKE: CREATING MAGIC
When Disney bought Lucasfilm, there was a great disturbance in the Force. George Lucas, the creator, was relinquishing all control of a franchise he spent most of his adult life working on. Understandably, fans were nervous: would the Mouse House bring balance to a beloved franchise that — to fans of the original trilogy at least — felt a little wobbly in a post-prequels aftermath?
Star Wars can make people selfish because each event (and these are still event films, at least for now) feels like more than “just a movie” or pure nostalgia injection. It feels more formative; a part of us. Somewhere, in the roots of our tree of life lay these early impressions of a galaxy far, far away. It has its hooks in us but good. If you mess with Star Wars, you are, by definition, messing with us. This is, of course, a twisted, obnoxious and childish stance that can result in some ugly online behavior. The good news is the really abhorrent behavior is almost always the result of a vocal minority whose nostalgia for the series is handcuffed by poor and thereby contradictory values. The place Star Wars holds in the hearts of most of its fans isn’t a dark one. It isn’t a cancer of unresolved bigotry, misogyny, self-hatred or fear. For most fans, these stories tap into an inner abode that is hopeful, positive and inclusive. It is these traits, in fact, that make many of us think back to who we were and how they made us feel at the time we saw them.
As fans, we have the powerful ability to speak with our currency, which is no longer limited to box office receipts, but to a strong social media presence as well. The Transformers movies are highly successful films and yet I don’t know a single person who likes them. I’d argue they are successful commercially, but not culturally.
The prequels were an enormous commercial success, but it’s telling that none were as commercially or culturally successful as The Force Awakens. I understand that younger audiences likely enjoyed them more than older fans of the original trilogy, but I question the nostalgic hold those films employ on an 11-year-old in 1999 compared to an 11-year-old in 1977. To this day, how many young Anakin, Jar Jar or Princess Amidala t-shirts do you see out there? I will grant you Darth Maul, but how many kids are still dressing up as Padme or Wato or Anakin or General Grievous? Did they ever?
As someone who has spent a not insignificant amount of time defending the prequels (to a degree, anyway), it is clear that there were, to be kind, missed opportunities. But quality isn’t necessary for an artistic effort to have an impact psychologically, although it probably helps. For example, the aforementioned He-Man cartoon was a pretty awful piece of programming. The animation was bad. The voice acting was poor. The writing putrid. But there were still ideas, concepts, images and other forms of world-building that captured children’s attention and imagination, at least to some degree (He-Man cannot be compared to other bigger nostalgia inducers such as Star Wars or Harry Potter)
The prequels had some beautiful imagery, but rarely — with some notable exceptions — captured iconic images or moments that stayed with us. Why didn’t more moments resonate? In hindsight, I believe two things were sorely missing: iconic, relatable characters that audiences could fall in love with and root for; and a world that felt lived in. The latter was a reaction based purely on the prequels’ painterly aesthetic, the former is something I believe is more fundamental to the success of cultural cinematic triumphs.
The question became: was Mickey Mouse an Anakin or a Luke? Was the mouse here to save the Star Wars universe and its hungry fans, or Order 66 the franchise into a devolution of A Star Wars Christmas specials? It was a legitimate question. Did Disney’s acquisition mean just more of this?
Personally, I wasn’t concerned. In fact I couldn’t be more excited that George Lucas, the genius wizard who created works of art that went beyond mere entertainment in my childhood, was handing things over to someone as savvy as Kathleen Kennedy and I was happy that Disney, a company that has long had a pretty good grasp on how to make themselves a whole lot of money, was investing in Star Wars… because it was clear that not only was more Star Wars coming, but that it would keep on coming because Disney’s 4 billion dollar investment would need a significant return. These days, it’s looking like they made out like bandits.
I loved The Force Awakens. It is not a great film, but there hasn’t been a truly great film in this saga since The Empire Strikes Back. Yet The Force Awakens was a great Star Wars film in the sense that it captured the most important elements that make Star Wars films great in the first place. While it was my third favorite Star Wars film upon release, it was, I admit, a distant third. It is, after all, a broad retread of A New Hope (proof, I’d argue, that characters and successful world building remained the two most important elements for a film like Star Wars to be culturally successful) and there is legit clunkiness in the narrative. It’s clear J. J. Abrams and Lawrence Kasdan needed the extra time they asked for (and were denied) to further hone the script. And yet when The Force Awakens connects, it does so in a way few blockbusters can because few blockbusters have a 40 year history haunting every frame.
What works when its connecting is pretty easy to identify: Rey, Finn, BB8, Poe and, oh yes, Kylo Ren who are not only great characters, they were superbly cast (… or in, BB8’s case, designed. Regarding Poe, one could argue he is a likable character in The Force Awakens that doesn’t truly become interesting until The Last Jedi). It’s not just “Rey”. It’s Daisy Ridley as Rey. It’s not just Kylo Ren. It’s Adam Driver as Kylo Ren. This is the success of Episodes VII and VIII. Do yourself a disfavor and just imagine Hayden Christensen (a fine actor, woefully miscast as Anakin) as Kylo Ren.
J.J. Abrams may never get enough credit for course-correcting the franchise amid enormous pressure. He did so by remembering what we loved about the original trilogy, executing those most important elements and thereby ensuring legions of fans that the property was in good hands. And I will forever be grateful to Abrams for bringing back to the franchise the one thing I never quite experienced from the prequels: real, authentic emotional chills based not on thrilling action sequences (say what you want about The Phantom Menace, but the Duel of the Fates lightsaber battle is the lightsaber battle to end all lightsaber battles), but rather character moments.
When I think of magical moments I think of that scene in The Empire Strikes Back when Yoda lifts Luke’s X-Wing out of that Dagobah swamp. To this day, it still gives me goosebumps. It doesn’t feel magical simply because of the effect of a giant model ship being lifted out of alien water. That the X-Wing feels real and has a weight to it helps, for sure (the prequels never truly escaped the problem of how artificial everything felt). Yoda’s size in relation to the X-Wing certainly helps. The set design helps. But the emotion behind it is nothing without the preceding interactions between Frank Oz’s performance as Yoda and Mark Hamill’s as Luke. Their performances, Luke’s narrative thread and their chemistry is what really makes that moment mean something. Goosebumps happen when the events unfolding find an emotional connection and that connection usually exists via the relative success of our connections with the character(s). Otherwise, it’s a just objects doing things. Architecture and landscapes, once again.
Abrams understood that no matter how pretty a brush stroke may be (and those prequels sure were pretty), we need to feel like we are not only living in these worlds, but experiencing on — an emotional level — all of the smaller moments as well. And when Rey is working hard to eat scraps in her home — a downed, dusty and not-so-cozy imperial walker — wearing an old rebel helmet, wondering when she will ever get off the god-forsaken planet of Jakku, we are right there with her. A big part of that is Abrams finding an actor in Daisy Ridley who just so obviously and completely believes the world she inhabits. This is a rare quality.
Natalie Portman is one of our truly great actresses, but for whatever reason I never felt she believed in the world around her and as a result she never felt fully invested. As much as Lucas wanted her to be, Padmé never quite became the realized feminist icon Rey or Princess Leia did so effortlessly.
I don’t mean to blame Portman for this. I’m not clear she had the kind of support around her that Daisy Ridley did. I’m sure George Lucas still cared about chemistry to some degree, but it simply did not show in his latter efforts. Casting good actors is one thing, casting the right actors together is a J.J. Abrams specialty. A more inclusive, more multi-cultural cast was all the better.
The late Carrie Fisher had tremendous chemistry with other members of the cast, especially Harrison Ford. You can feel Fisher and the other actors challenge one another, responding in kind and having fun while they did it. Ridley and this new cast have that too. Her scenes with Ford and John Boyega jump off the screen and this was the central piece for everything else to work. The cast is such a joy to watch, they are so entertaining in their exchanges that they enhance the drama and dull the flaws. When Finn and Rey are jawing at each other with BB8 riding shotgun, the actors, through these characters, make us feel the way Han, Luke and Leia once did.
Characters + Actors + Chemistry = Magic
And that magical feeling… that’s what we grow nostalgic for and we just can’t wait to get more of it.
3 MOMENTS WHEN THE FORCE AWAKENS FEELS FAMILIAR IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY
There are three major moments in The Force Awakens where I think all the work of casting and character building (traced along, yes, familiar narrative threads) delivered iconic results. They are iconic in the sense that these moments will stay with me for a long time and as noted previously, this is likely more important than the overall quality of the film in terms of its cultural success.
- Han Solo, in a meta-way, telling us the magic is back
This moment gave me chills in the trailer alone. It’s the scene early in the film when Solo says:
I thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. A magical power holding together good and evil, the dark side and the light. Crazy thing is… it’s true. The Force. The Jedi… All of it… It’s all true.
… because with Harrison Ford as their ambassador, Abrams and Kasdan were intuitively telling us, It’s okay to believe again. You may have been disillusioned or cynical, like me, your old pal, Han Solo, but it’s okay now. This series is in good hands. At least that’s what I felt, post-prequels, Solo uttering those words.
Han’s words are also an acknowledgment to a young girl, who desperately needs to believe in something, that there is indeed a much bigger world out there than scrapping metal on a desert planet. It’s an elegant, less expository echo of the scene where Ben Kenobi explains to Luke the inner workings of The Force.
It also plays as an effective reminder of Han’s old cynicism, his journey, Luke’s journey, Leia’s. There is a whole untold history in Han’s brief summation and this goes for the rest of these scenes I’m signaling out: the more you know about that history, the better you connect with the characters, the more visceral the emotions become, the closer you feel in the moment as it exists on the screen. But it’s not necessary to have that history and a big reason is the performances by Ford and Ridley.
As noted earlier, nostalgia is more than a simple longing for a thing, it’s about the emotion felt in a particular place and in a particular time that we wish to recapture. Han is reminding us there was once a place called Camelot. We didn’t imagine it. It really existed. All of it.
2. Solo, finally confronting Kylo Ren shouts, “Ben!”
It is the first reveal of Kylo’s real name and it’s a gut punch. Han’s shout is emotional, scolding. On one hand it’s a beautiful reveal of the tribute paid to an old friend. And it is heartbreaking in the obvious pain of a parent whose son isn’t living up to the name he was given. Abrams and Kasdan once again use the saga’s narrative history to wonderful effect.
When Kylo finally commits patricide, it is as horrific a moment as any in the saga. Chewy’s wail is a reminder of his long lasting friendship with Han. Rey’s emotional scream is a tribute to the father-daughter-like bond the film was successfully building. There hasn’t been an emotional beat this devastating since the original trilogy.
As a side note, Abrams, cinematographer Dan Mindel, not to mention their visual effects and sound design teams do some amazing work in this scene.
3. Rey finally takes ownership of Luke’s lightsaber
More than any other moment in The Force Awakens, this is the one that gives me chills. It’s the scene in the film’s climax where Kylo and Rey both reach for Luke’s lightsaber stuck in the snow. It’s a clever homage to the scene in the ice cave early on in Empire, only this time it is two force-strong apprentices vying for the handle. By now, Kasdan and Abrams have done a pretty good job building up the significance of Luke’s lightsaber as it pertains to Kylo Ren and Rey. To Kylo — and Rey’s — disbelief, the lightsaber finds its way to the amateur wielder, who fears the Jedi weapon and wants nothing to do with it. But in that moment, Rey once again surprises both herself and Kylo Ren as to the depth of her power. Only this time she is finally ready to accept what at this point feels to be her destiny. Cue John Williams, that mighty, magnificent genius.
Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver are perfect here. Ridley’s expression staring at the lightsaber before finally punching it on is such a beautiful representation of a hero finally coming to the end of her first journey. It was a hurdle, but she overcame it. It’s an expression falling just short of pride. It’s more of an acknowledgment of her journey; she accepts that something within her is different now. She’s worthy. Ridley’s work and the work by J.J. Abrams in building to this moment makes it all feel earned.
This is a big part of what we want from Star Wars. We want that big first step in the hero’s journey. In A New Hope, it’s when Luke finally trusted the Force instead of his computer in the cockpit of that X-wing. At the start of her journey, Rey is already familiar with The Force whereas Luke didn’t even know it existed. Rey knows of the legends of Skywalker and Han Solo and Princess Leia. The question becomes whether or not she wants the responsibility. What initially became a journey to deliver the weapon to a famed hero who could then do the heavy lifting, became the tale of a courier who slowly realizes she will have to do heavy lifting of her own.
THE LAST JEDI: 5 GREAT MOMENTS THAT STAYED WITH ME
There are a lot of other fun, great moments in The Force Awakens but focusing on the truly memorable ones that stayed with me on an emotional level, I was able to whittle those down to the aforementioned three.
I had a tougher time whittling when it came to Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi, the strangest, funniest and perhaps most wonderfully moving episode.
Episode VIII is, to a significant degree, about nostalgia. It both rejects it and celebrates it. After an exciting and surprisingly emotional opening space battle, the action cuts to Ahch-to, picking up where The Force Awakens left off: Rey, shaken, intimidated in the presence of the great Jedi Luke Skywalker, offers — pleadingly — the Jedi master’s old lightsaber. Luke takes the lightsaber, considers it briefly and immediately chucks it over his shoulder before walking away.
It’s a nice bit of comedy, undercutting the expectations from the audience. It’s the first sign to fans that you can leave your expectations at the door because this is not going to go the way you think. Also made clear: Luke is not at all nostalgic for the weapon, it’s history or what it represents. Luke, like Kylo, has a lot things to say about the past and the two of them take measures to destroy it in various ways. Luke also has a lot of thoughts about the force and what it actually means to be a Jedi. He holds no nostalgic emotion for the sacred Jedi texts, for example. At least not until he believes they are burned to a cinder.
Kylo wants to burn his history too because he sees it as the only way to move forward (and he did not need the suckling of leeches to reach this conclusion). Just thinking about the past makes the present too confusing because it fills him with emotions he believes he must bury to avoid paralysis.
Luke doesn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past so he believes he must remove the traditions that ultimately, he argues, led to those mistakes.
Rey eventually understands two things. Kylo is living a lie and Luke is acting a fool. The answer about how to use the past and move forward is simple: learn from the mistakes so as to not repeat them and take bold action needed for forward progress.
In his narrative, Rian Johnson reveals all of the considerations a filmmaker coming into this new Star Wars trilogy must consider. Abrams, rightly or wrongly, embraced nostalgia completely. Johnson’s film acknowledges its importance, while moving the series in new, interesting directions.
The biggest risk Johnson makes is to take the most carefully guarded franchise in the business and dare to make it about something. His script is the most thematically rich of the franchise and it stays true to itself from beginning to end. It waxes philosophically and in the most meta way about what we need to take from our pasts (and the franchises of our youths) — if anything at all. Do we just “Let the past die…kill it [if we] have to?”, as Kylo suggests? Do the mistakes of the past (coughprequelscough) mean the past has no value?
The Last Jedi is also about symbols and legends and how their imperfections need not be ignored nor result in automatic disqualification. It reminds us that when we fail, even in the most horrible of ways, it is never too late to learn from those failures. Yoda reminds Luke: The greatest teacher, failure is.
Learning from past disappointments results in the most feminist Star Wars film to date and the most multi-cultural in its casting. This a movie hell-bent on moving the franchise forward while acknowledging and even celebrating the past. If you felt like The Force Awakens was nostalgia run amok, The Last Jedi is certainly a breath of fresh air, challenging your preconceived notions of what is acceptable in the Star Wars universe from narrative devices to new uses of the force to the way it applies humor.
Oh, and it has some of my favorite moments in the franchise…
- “The Last Jedi” owns Kylo Ren
I’ve heard from some disappointed fans that The Last Jedi is predictable and goes through the motions. I challenge anyone to explain which Star Wars film is structured the way Rian Johnson’s film is (much of the narrative is executed around a slow-motion chase between starships) or features a similar climax. Yes, there is another offensive on a planet (it is a Star Wars film, after all), but the stakes and players are different and the ever-present themes heighten everything in a way we haven’t seen in this franchise, well, ever. We have never seen a Jedi do what Luke does in the last act of this film. And the reveal is glorious because it’s fan service done in the least fan servicey way. Johnson knows that audiences want to see what type of Jedi Luke has become. He understands fans want to see Luke in the most bad-ass of modes. And he shows remarkable restraint, wisely avoiding a CGI-Luke going ballistic with a lightsaber. What Luke does in the closing moments of The Last Jedi is more profound and interesting and original than any of that. More importantly, it’s done in a way that is true to the way Luke values the force. It’s a nonviolent act, but it is as devastating a strike as any swing of a lightsaber, still managing to save The Resistance.
If content is not enough, let’s talk about form. It is no secret that George Lucas was a huge Akira Kurosawa fan and this film borrows from Kurosawa’s awesome library. Everything from Kurosawa’s use of color in Ran to the multiple truths of Rashomon to the suspenseful prologues of battle in Seven Samurai (especially Kyuzo’s extended, early showdown) enriches the frames of The Last Jedi.
Johnson’s Kyuzo-like showdown between Luke and Kylo Ren is a masterful sequence of cinematic suspense. His shot selections, focusing primarily on the two foes’ faces, eyes and feet (which unveil secrets), readying for combat, shows a patience and consideration that I hope to see more of in Kathleen Kennedy’s reign. I admit, my fondness for the samurai genre is a layer of my love and admiration for the filmmaker’s work on this sequence.
After his showdown with Kylo, we cut back to Luke in deep meditation, many planetary systems away. In his final moment, before disappearing and giving himself up to the force, he is surprised by the vision of a binary sunset. John William’s theme for Luke helps us revisit one of the truly iconic shots of A New Hope. We are reminded of it and thereby the whole of his journey. This is nostalgia by dyptich. The two shots of Luke staring at binary sunsets at very different ages means very different things. In A New Hope, it’s about a young man longing for the adventure beyond his small world. In The Last Jedi, it’s a goodbye to an icon who once saved the entire galaxy, albeit briefly.
Or maybe not. Maybe that’s just what it means to us. Perhaps for Luke, the moments are the same exact thing. In A New Hope, Luke can’t help but shake this feeling that there is more than his current life is giving him. In The Last Jedi, he knows it’s time he finds out what lays beyond the physical realm.
As much as The Last Jedi continues to tell the stories of it’s new lead characters, make no mistake… this is Luke’s film. If this is not clear midway through, it will be obvious once Luke delivers the biggest mic drop in the galaxy. It’s Rian Johnson’s big wet smack of a kiss to Mark Hamill and his iconic character. And I love the film so much for being that.
2. Luke and Leia, One Last Time
Reunion scenes are built on nostalgic emotions. It’s hard to view this scene and not consider the real-world implications. When Carrie Fisher died, there was some discussion as to whether or not they should make any changes to The Last Jedi’s narrative. A popular critique from some of the more negative circles asks why not give Leia Vice Admiral Holdo’s sendoff instead and let Holdo live, especially given Laura Dern and Oscar Isaac’s undeniable sexual chemistry (that idea would have involved digital effects and body doubles, obviously)? In the end, the answer was obvious: to do anything of the sort would cut short the last wonderful performance by Fisher, not to mention the key reunion scene between Luke and Leia. Denying audiences that last scene they shared together would have amounted to a cinematic sin.
I’m honestly not sure if I love this scene purely for the way it was filmed and acted. My fondness for the actors and the characters they played and my knowledge of Fisher’s death must play into it on some substantial level. I’m okay with this.
If there is ever a necessity to feed the beast hungry for nostalgia, this was it because it is an important scene for both characters. We needed to see Luke and Leia together, once more. Without this scene, Luke’s journey in this specific film feels incomplete (he can’t fully forgive himself before facing Leia). And without it, Leia being denied something built in earnest since The Force Awakens (her desperate search and want to reunite with Luke) — especially given that this is obviously Fisher’s last film — makes it clear this moment was necessary dramatically.
This is a perfect example of nostalgia and drama working in harmony. It’s also touching as all hell.
3. Luke Takes A Walk, Ignites The Spark
There are three truly great musical cues in The Last Jedi. The second best is the reveal in the Luke vs. Kylo Ren scene. The third best I will be discussing shortly. The very best, however, comes right after Luke’s scene with Leia and right before Luke’s showdown with Kylo Ren.
The Resistance is all but doomed. They are trapped. There is an army outside their rebel base that has already breached their doors. It is only a matter of time before they meet their end.
Luke shows up. He has a moment with Leia, kneeling down and huddling with her. It’s emotional. Then Luke stands. C-3P0 greets him in C-3PO fashion and Mark Hamill does something I absolutely adore... He says nothing. He just winks and moves along.
It’s the first signal… Luke’s all about business right now. And he’s got business with Kylo Ren.
So he walks. He’s heading towards the breach. John Williams’s brilliant music is starting to give you goosebumps. The rebels, these new resistance fighters, do something we haven’t seen them do before and the result is we react in a way we haven’t watching a Star Wars film in a long time, not since Yoda raised the X-wing from out that Dagobah swamp: The remaining crumbles of the Resistance, they are in awe and given everything we experienced through them, so are we.
They are in awe of Luke walking towards the breach. One man. Greeting a First Order offensive that goes way beyond any parables about David and Goliath. But this is Luke. And given our history, given his character and Hamill’s performance in The Last Jedi, given how much it took for him to get to this place and this time, we are nervous for him. And given who he is, we are rooting and celebrating the brass cojones of his action.
Luke. Fucking Luke! Walking in one direction when he should be running towards the other. Even Poe can’t believe his eyes. Every time I watch this scene, and I’ve seen the film three times now, I get the chills, the kind where the hairs stand at attention. It’s one of the truly great scenes in the franchise. In fact, I’d go as far to say there’s really nothing like it in the saga, this moment of celebration and appreciation, not with this sort of build up. All the work Johnson and Hamill have done prior to this moment allow it to hit a maximum emotional peak.
You may have noticed my three favorite moments in the film all come one right after the other. Part of The Last Jedi’s artistic success is how it saves its best moments for last. It is easily my favorite last act in any of the films.
4. Kylo’s “redemption” in the Throne Room
Rian Johnson knows you’ve watched The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. He knows what you expect. And he plays on those expectations when it comes to Kylo Ren’s fate and whether or not he can be saved from the dark side.
He gives fans what they want. When Kylo Ren dispatches Snoke in fabulous fashion, audiences can’t help but cheer. It purposely echoes the infamous moment Darth Vader turns on Emperor Palpatine. We all see it coming but we cheer when it happens anyway because in that moment it’s what we want and needed. Nostalgia injection delivered.
This is when my third favorite musical cue occurs: Rey reaches up and the lightsaber floats right into her hands. It’s not just that Rey uses the force to grab the lightsaber. It’s the way Snoke’s upper body falls to the ground, the way the blue lightsaber contrasts against all the red in the Throne Room, the way the saber and Rey’s hand are juxtaposed, and how the saber travels through the center of the frame and into her hand, the rest of her body out of view. Again and again Johnson delivers not just in content, but also form.
What follows is one of the more thrilling lightsaber battles in the franchise because of its unique samurai influences, the stakes and amazing set design (not to mention set reveals. When the fire sends the red background ablaze, portions of the set come falling down, unveiling the stars beyond. It is one of the most stunning visuals of the year). In this moment, in the middle of their fight, I had no concept as to where the film could go. The nostalgia injection of (what I believed to be) another moment of redemption in the saga had me in a tizzy. And my cheering for Kylo Ren in the heat of the moment, distracted me from the obvious answer as to where the film must go next: Kylo’s false redemption is tragic in how misguided the motives behind it were. Johnson uses what we know of the past to build us up before breaking our hearts while solidifying and crystallizing Ren’s villainy for the rest of the trilogy.
Once again Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver are so good here. All of the work in the scenes they shared prior to this pays off in a big way.
5. Leia’s use of the force
Perhaps the most polarizing big moment in the film is, for my money, among the best and most overdue moments in the franchise. The setup is beautifully handled. Kylo Ren, in his TIE fighter, struggles internally with wiping out the command center he knows his mother, Leia, is in. But just as he relents, another anonymous TIE fighter does the job for him. Everyone, Admiral Ackbar included, is wiped out. We presume this includes Leia.
I remember when this happened, as Johnson cuts away to some other action, being quite upset. Really? That’s how they are taking out Leia? They aren’t even going to dramatize her death? And then Johnson cuts back to a body floating in space. Williams’s score softens. It’s Leia’s theme. We get closer to see her face. Ah, so this is the sendoff she gets. It’s a tender moment. Our princess is gone. Goodbye, Carrie Fisher. It’s been emotional.
But wait.
Her finger ever so gently moves. The music is starting to swell. Leia’s eyes open. In space, Leia’s eyes defy physics and they open and then Leia’s theme looms larger and soon she is floating back to the ship and I had tears in my eyes.
For the briefest of moments, Rian Johnson brought Leia back to life. He brought Carrie Fisher, our princess, that talented writer and actress with precise comic timing and wit, back to life. And he did so by giving Leia a display of her force powers denied her in prior films. I love that the force acted as a last second self-defense mechanism and she was able to exhibit — finally — the sort of power only a Rey or Skywalker is capable of. It’s not just that I really like this scene, I’m legitimately grateful to Rian Johnson that it exists.
I could go on but, with one last exception, I’m going to stop here. The Last Jedi has a great feminist slant and Carrie Fisher, Daisy Ridley, Kelly Marie Tran, Laura Dern (who is so damn good and whose heroics literally make the theater go silent) and even, in her brief screen time, Veronica Ngo, are among the beneficiaries. There are some interesting gender politics and a whole lot of funny scenes. There is a lot to celebrate, but let’s talk about that ending as we wrap this up.
THE LAST SHOT
The last shot of The Last Jedi is completely unconventional and unprecedented for a Star Wars film in that it features none of the major players. It focuses on the stable boy Finn and Rose meet earlier in the film. It is revealed the young boy is force-strong, though he does not appear to know it.
He has just finished hearing (I get the sense, not for the first time) about the legendary showdown between Luke and The First Order from one of his friends. He’s experienced The Spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down. The boy is enslaved and ordered to go outside and sweep.
He takes the broom, but instead of the floor, his eyes find the stars. High on the tales of Skywalker, he holds his broom to the night sky, like a lightsaber, dreaming of his own adventures in the mold of his newfound heroes. The greatest recruit for any rebellion are tales of legends. Luke and Rey are legends to this young boy the same way Finn was a legend to Rose.
Rose learned quickly legends are not all you dream them up to be. Rey learns the same when she first encounters Luke. This does not mean they aren’t worthy symbols or icons, nor does it mean we should be naive to their flaws. This is, once again, that middle ground Johnson finds between Kylo and Luke. Luke had flaws. Luke is still an icon. He’s still a legend.
All of this subtext is layered in The Last Jedi. But this scene doubles as a meta-commentary of the audience’s relationship with Star Wars itself. The Broom Kid identifies with and reveres Luke, the way audiences have for decades. By now, he has likely heard the legend of Rey as well, another anonymous figure in the galaxy whose lineage is likely as inconsequential as his own. If she can come from nothing, so can he. One of the smartest decisions Johnson makes in the film is to turn the mystery of Rey’s parents on itself. He follows Kylo Ren’s spirit here. Our expectations that the Star Wars episodes are traditionally a Skywalker story? Kill them.
For young children new to the Star Wars universe, they no doubt see a piece of themselves not only in Rey and Poe and Finn, but most of all, the Broom Kid. The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi are the spark that will light the fire for a future return to emotions they are experiencing in the present.
Strip everything down and the experiences and emotions a successful Star Wars film recalls is that feeling we had when we were younger, when we held our own brooms to the stars and imagined unlimited possibilities of our own heroism. These films remind us of the qualities we celebrate when we idolize good-hearted legends like Rey and Luke. And thinking back on those qualities and the values behind them, it is comforting knowing we embraced them so strongly as children. It makes us believe, correctly I think, that we are — despite any corruption in age — inherently good. We are better people knowing we embrace these values even as we stumble trying to live up to them. The dark side, after all, is ever present, but it may be our own sense of nostalgia that has the greatest ability to remind us of the light.
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