An Inherently Counter Fictional Star Wars — Rise of Skywalker

When The Force Awakens was released, I intended to do a series of stories here that dealt with various aspects of how it affected the Star Wars galaxy. But then I got busy with life and work, so only a brief introductory piece was published.

When The Last Jedi came out, it, for me, made TFA a better movie, and I felt less compelled to finish my commentary.

After it was announced that JJ would be back for Episode 9, I was nervous. A director who cannot count third acts as one of his strong suits was given charge of the third act of a third act. “But,” I reassured myself, “the Star Wars story group is currently shepherding the creation of a massive canon mythology in real time! They won’t let things go too far off the rails.”

Alas.

Here’s the thing: as a standalone space opera serial, it is fun (if a bit nonsensical and sloppily made) and gorgeous to look at in the moment. And if Star Wars Episode 9 really were a throwaway Saturday morning serial, that would be fine.

But, Disney set up the expectation that it is *not* just a space opera serial for kids. They spent $275 million on a PG-13 movie that was billed with the tagline, “The Saga Will End. The Story Lives Forever.” Disney ejected the expanded universe of the 80’s and 90’s to craft a new, theoretically more consistent, canon.

And so, to really assess it, we must consider the film within that context.

Much has been said about this film already, and my goal is to focus on a few specific categories rather than retreading all the well worn paths, or pulling on every thread.

Most of the things that trouble me about this film are vintage JJ: arbitrary rules set to artificially increase stakes that are then ignored, a lack of follow through, a lack of genuine sacrifice, constantly reworking material from the nostalgia mines.

So, let us now take a few moments to examine some aspects of this film as it relates to the existing Star Wars canon.

Be warned, there are spoilers for the entire Star Wars Mainline below, Episodes 1 through 9 inclusive.

Given Circumstances

Of any of the sequels in the primary Skywalker sequence, Rise of Skywalker is the one that is most dismissive of the circumstances set up by the previous movie.

Forgive the obvious, but it’s helpful to lay it out, break by break:

Episode 1 ends with political turmoil and Anakin being trained by Obi-wan. Episode 2 takes that circumstance and jumps ahead 10 years.

Episode 2 ends with the clone wars beginning. Episode 3 picks up at the end of the clone wars. (Episode 3 does introduce General Grevious between films, which prompts a bit of a “who the hell is this guy?” But at least he’s a droid (mostly) leading a droid army, so there are context clues).

Episode 3 ends with twins being hidden away, Vader reborn, and an ascendant Empire imposing space fascism across the galaxy, while a small band of senators resist, mostly through espionage. Episode 4 begins with the last vestiges of the Old Republic being eliminated as the Empire attempts to wipe out a Rebellion that has just had its first major success.

Episode 4 ends with a victory by a rag tag band of Rebels who are still vastly outnumbered. Episode 5 begins with that same rag tag band of Rebels struggling to maintain their resistance in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

Episode 5 ends with Han kidnapped, and the rebels attempting to regroup. Episode 6 begins with Han’s rescue and the Rebels gathering for one final push.

Episode 6 ends with a major victory (though still a local one, provided you ignore the Special Edition), and the potential of full victory on the horizon. Episode 7 picks up several decades later: what happens after you win? Is each generation destined to fight the same battles?

Episode 7 ends with a parallel to Episode 4 (unsurprising, since the whole movie is a parallel), but with an added epilogue: the small resistance has been victorious, but now the First Order can find them. Rey is off to recruit/train with Luke. Episode 8 picks up exactly from these circumstances (indeed, it’s virtually continuous), and follows them through.

Episode 8 ends with the Resistance decimated, but Luke’s sacrifice is the spark that will light the fire of a full rebellion. Rey’s strength is growing, but her saber is broken. The epilogue shows that Luke’s legend, and a sense of hope, cannot be destroyed.

The logical place for Episode 9 to begin would be to show us how the resistance is rebuilding, how they are recruiting more allies (or how they are failing to do so), and how Kylo Ren wields the First Order as its new Supreme Leader.

Instead, Episode 9 ignores these given circumstances, and chooses to insert a new one (the revival of Palpatine) that happens off screen. Rather than show us the actual work of the Resistance, we’re given a series of McGuffin fetch quests, that are visually very fun, but don’t actually make any sense within the context of the larger story.

For all that toxic fandom (or, in some cases, simply unsatisfied film goers) complained about The Last Jedi willfully subverting The Force Awakens and/or the original trilogy, Episode 8 was a wholly natural extension of the given circumstances of the end of Episode 7, and built playfully and meaningfully on the existing mythology.

On the other hand, nothing that happens in Episode 8 (other than Luke’s death and Kylo Ren’s broken mask), has any real effect on Episode 9.

When Episode 9 starts, the resistance has basically the same number of troops and ships as at the end of Episode 7. Rey’s saber is whole¹. And none of our main characters have retained any of the character growth from The Last Jedi.

Episode 9 purposefully ignores everything of substance that happens in Episode 8, much to its detriment as a cohesive piece of storytelling.

Breaking Hyperspace

Over the last 10 movies (including Rogue One and Solo), the Star Wars universe has gone to great lengths to emphasize that traveling through hyper space is hard. Episode 4 tells us that “it ain’t like dusting crops, boy!” and that short range fighters like TIE fighters can’t travel in hyperspace.

The computation of navigational routes is vitally important, which is why you need special nav computers, and X-wings and Y-wings need astromech droids (see Episode 4, Solo, etc). In the prequels, Jedi star fighters need special hyperspace rings to allow faster than light travel.

One of the things that I’ve really enjoyed about the expanded movie universe is that they fixed some of the problems with hyperspace introduced in the prequels and the Clone Wars series, by making it clear that it’s not strictly distance that determines how long travel between systems takes, but what route you take. Hence the importance of navigational systems.

Episode 7 had Han emerge from hyperspace in an atmosphere, a feat which other characters did not believe was possible!

And Episode 8 weaponized what happens if you don’t carefully plan your hyperspace trip in the stunning Holdo maneuver scene.

(I should note that my brother and I used to speculated on whether a strategy like this would’ve worked on the death star throughout the 90’s. It was incredibly gratifying to see it deployed so devastatingly.)

But in the first few minutes of Rise of Skywalker, the film breaks all of these established rules by having the Falcon (pursued by TIE fighters) “light speed skip,” jumping from picturesque location to location instantaneously.

In true JJ fashion, it’s a violation of all established rules (rules that even he previously adhered to) in service of a cool effect that makes no real sense either in the context of the film or the larger series.

Artificial Stakes

When the Resistance gets the message about the Final Order fleet, Poe gravely informs them that they have 16 hours before the attack begins.

On a galactic scale, this is a meaningless timeline. Before the attack begins where? Surely just hearing that the fleet is fully “armed and operational” is terrifying enough to motivate rapid response… and the uncertainty is, in many ways, more terrifying. People could start dying at any time.

But, as evidenced by his Star Trek movies, JJ has never been comfortable thinking on galactic scale, and so imposes this kind of non-sensical ticking clock. (Contrast this with the ticking clock in The Last Jedi, which was directly related to fuel levels and a limited scale pursuit.)

Each Final Order Star Destroyer is equipped with “planet killing” weapons which, just like the Death Star(s) or Star Killer base (or Nero’s ship in JJ’s Star Trek), blow up a planet from the inside. The Death Star and Star Killer both establish how difficult it is to do, and how much time it takes. (The Death Star needed Star Destroyers full of Kyber Crystals and Star Killer uses so much power it dims a star.)

In these new Star Destroyers, it’s just the push of a button and “Kablam.” Not only does it cheapen the impact of those previous weapons, it also raises the question of “how?”

These ships could’ve been kept consistent with existing canon by having the weapons scorch the surface of the planets without actually destroying the physical planet itself. Equally effective, and the opportunity for a visual effect we haven’t seen before.

The Abandonment of the Political

For a series that, in the prequels, tells a story of how trade disputes can give rise to Space Fascism, Episode 9 jettisons nearly all political overtones (apart from a handful of nods at general oppression/genocide) in favor of being all Space Wizardry all the time.

All of the previous films are deeply rooted in both economics and politics (the prequels the most explicitly so).

Episodes 4–6 are a story of freedom fighters, and the space wizards are on the periphery.

Han is on the run from a bounty in both 4 & 5.

Episode 7 has reinvigorated Space Fascists overthrowing the democratic government in one fell swoop.

In Episode 8, DJ is purely mercenary, and the whole movie turns a lens on war profiteering. It asks some incisive questions about the Star Wars galaxy’s perpetual conflict, in a way that echoes and expands upon some of the more political episodes of The Clone Wars series.

By doubling down on Space Wizards and force mysticism, Episode 9 discards all of these concerns.

The First Order was oppressing planets in order to mine minerals to build their fleet? The wealthy were benefiting from selling weapons to both sides? Doesn’t matter! Thanks to the magical Sith fleet that has somehow been constructed (and staffed) on a single planet in the unknown regions, those economic concerns are moot!

(I should note that some of the new expanded universe materials lead to the suggestion that Palpatine had some sort of back up plan in case of his death at Endor, one that would allow the Empire to continue, perhaps through a hidden fleet under construction in the unknown regions. That all seems plausible, but is, again, part of a political explanation for how to keep the apparatus of the Empire going).

Palpatine in Rise of Skywalker seems to abdicate his political ambitions in deference to the Sith, whatever that ideology means. Palpatine is, from his introduction in Episode 1, a political creature… his status as a Sith Lord, through both the prequels and Episodes 4–6 seems pretty clearly a means to an end, but in Episode 9 it becomes the end entirely.

Sacrifice Without Weight

The Chewie fake-out, the 3PO do-over, Leia & Ben’s final moments… every sacrifice in this movie doesn’t carry sufficient weight. Leia’s is, in some ways, the most forgivable, as there was only so much footage to work with; they did what they could.

Unlike Vader (and Qui Gon), Ben’s body conveniently disappears as a force ghost making for a very brief moment. If you’re going to lean so hard into the parallels, why not have Rey carry the body away?

Hux’s dramatically interesting betrayal is immediately thrown away in the following scene.

If one wants to subvert the notion of meaningless sacrifice throughout the film, the theme that Rose articulates in Episode 8 is right there: “we win not by destroying what we hate, but by saving what we love.” And even when events happen that correspond to that theme, it’s not referenced or called back, which is a shame.

The primary theme that this film tries to articulate, “there are more of us than there are of them” is also underdeveloped and under utilized.

A reliance on new expanded material without utilizing existing expanded material

This film relies on expanded universe materials to explain filmmaking choices (The Emperor’s announcement happened in Fortnite, Janah is apparently Lando’s daughter, etc.) without utilizing any of the interesting existing canon.

Snap Wexley, though he’s become a major character in the expanded universe, is used to simply deliver a few lines of exposition and then serve as collateral damage. Because he’s never been a fully realized character in the movies, it’s all pretty meaningless, and somehow has even less weight than Porkins’ death in Episode 4.

In the expanded universe materials, 3PO is established as Leia’s spy master, with a network of droids across the galaxy. What a great thread to follow in terms of rebuilding the resistance! When 3PO had to recite language from the ancient Sith, rather than doing a memory wipe, there was the opportunity to load into him the personality matrix of Triple 0, a droid who would definitely speak Sith. Complications could ensue!

Much as with the given circumstances at the end of Episode 8, the ongoing Disney/Marvel canon provided a number of threads that could’ve been pulled that would have allowed an overall expansion of the universe, without the need to create contradictory materials whole cloth.

It’s also worth noting that many of these expanded universe materials were written by women and authors of color, but they were discarded and undercut in favor of the idea that JJ and Chris Terrio wanted to run with.

Selective Nostalgia Mining

As other writers have pointed out, many of the cameos and callbacks are presented in the film as specifically meaningful, but really only carry meaning for the audience, not the characters.

And even in this, there’s a hesitation to actually go all the way. If you’re going to do it, why not fully commit?

Why does Rey fly the Falcon to Tatooine in the epilogue? Now that Han’s gone, that’s Lando and Chewie’s ship.

If you’re going to go there as a film maker, why not have Rey bring the X-Wing back to Luke’s home, with R2 navigating? It’s the fighter Luke spent his childhood dreaming about, landing here at last, when everything has changed.

What Might Have Been

At the end of the Last Jedi, Luke says to Kylo, “See you around, kid.” What if, rather than a throwaway ghostly guest appearance, Luke was continually whispering in Ben’s ear throughout Episode 9? What if he haunted him, as Obi-Wan haunted Luke, but working to counter purposes instead of helping?

What if, instead of resurrecting Palpatine, our main villain was thishaunted Kylo struggling to maintain leadership of a growing First Order (with Hux as an antagonist), slowly realizing that he is not really leading, but instead is being used as an apparatus of the fascist machine? Would there be a war crime that even he could not stomach? Or would it be Hux who could no longer stomach the atrocities? If Hux is the kind of fascist who really is committed to order, the unpredictable Kylo Ren is antithetical to his world view.

For audiences, Ren is irredeemable from the moment he kills Han. What if the titular Rise of Skywalker was Luke returning like Gandalf the White to stand with Rey in a final showdown against evil?

Or what if Rey founded a new line of force users (the grey Jedi of the old expanded universe), who all wore the name Skywalker? What if she rallied young force users from around the galaxy (e.g., broom kid from Episode 8) like Buffy rallying the slayers!

If Palpatine must return, what if Kylo had killed the vestigial Emperor in their first encounter, taking command of the new final order fleet?

KYLO: I killed Snoke
PALPATINE: I MADE Snoke!

KYLO cuts PALPATINE in half with lightsaber.

What if his struggle then becomes an Ahab like focus on destroying Rey, which also puts him in conflict with the First Order political machine?

What if Hux, as traitor, escaped with our heroes, he helps take down the First Order fleet and hates himself for it? What if he tried to sacrifice himself (the easy way out) but survives to deal with the consequences?

Summing up

Again, despite widespread criticisms of to the contrary, The Last Jedi is a movie that hard core “Yes ANDs” the events of The Force Awakens. Rise of Skywalker is a movie that “no BUTs” the hell out of its predecessor.

It’s a movie that consistently makes the least interesting choices dramatically.

And it’s a movie that retains all the trappings of the series that surrounds it while managing to jettison the ethos.

I’m curious how and why this happened, but I think it’s a combination of Corporate desire, a director who indulged his natural tendencies and wanted to make big splashy moves, and a production timeline that was truncated by six months.

(December 2019 was, after all, supposed to be the release date for Mulan.)

In the end, we have a movie that, despite some satisfying moments, feels rushed and sloppily constructed. Even what was, for me, the best moment (the arrival of Lando’s fleet) feels derivative of Avengers: Endgame (another movie that, while containing satisfying imagery and iconography, couldn’t quite bear the weight required of it).

And, at worst, from the offensive sidelining of Rose Tico, to the nonsensical lineage for Rey, Episode 9 seems like a movie constructed to appease Twitter trolls.

Despite Rise of Skywalker’s aim to be an epic Grand Finale, it ends up as more of a shrug.

My biggest points of sadness with this movie are that:

1. John Williams had to score something pretty mediocre for his final Star Wars installment. (Still the MVP, though! I hear you, reworking of Episode 1's Anakin theme!)
2. Inspiring characters and relationships were undercut and sacrificed in service of a mediocre idea.
3. We’ll never see on film what the story could have been if Carrie Fisher were still alive.

In the end, the most fitting finale of Star Wars as I love it is the epilogue of The Last Jedi: a young kid looking at the stars, dreaming of something better.

[1] This is a case of JJ willfully ignoring both Rian Johnson, John Williams, AND classic mythology, all of which is done at one’s own peril. The splitting of the saber is a huge visual, emotional, and musical beat in The Last Jedi, suggesting the sword that is broken that must be reforged! (See Nothung and Narsil, for example.) It is a weighty trope that is cast into the negative space between episodes 8 and 9.