Growing Beyond the Skywalkers
It's been a good while since I've written a review. I'm planning to get back to things a bit more regularly now, but I wanted to start with a movie that matters a great deal to me. The Star Wars series, perhaps more than any other cinematic work, is what first sparked my interest in film, so when a new entry arrives, I like to dive deep. (Apologies in advance for the length of this piece).
If you're even a semi-regular moviegoer, chances are you've already seen Star Wars: The Last Jedi, and if you haven't, you'll probably see it eventually (this is Star Wars, after all). By now you've likely heard that the film has divided many viewers. Some absolutely love it, while others feel it goes too far in it's subversion of the Skywalker saga or features diversions from the story that add little to nothing. I'm in the former camp, but it took a second viewing to put me there (I was awed but also a little shell shocked the first time I saw it). This is all to say: you don't need me to tell you to see this movie once, so let me make the case for revisiting it, even if you loved it as soon as the credits rolled and that buoyant John Williams theme carried you out of the theater.
From this point forward I'll be delving into the film's core themes (and therefore its plot) in detail, so if you haven't yet seen the film, well, go see it! It's so unexpected and tragic yet joyous that it's not really worth discussing without digging into the full story.
In making Star Wars: The Force Awakens, J.J. Abrams said he found that to go forward he had to go backward. He recaptured the look, feel and story beats of the original Star Wars films, giving something old some fresh new characters and relationships. On Star Wars: The Last Jedi, writer-director Rian Johnson's motto may as well have been, “go inward to go forward,” as he makes introspection of the Skywalkers and their legacy the key to the franchise's future. To him it's not about mirroring what's come before, but rather creating something truly new with the same spirit.
A grizzled and broken Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) says to the young hero Rey (Daisy Ridley), "This is not going to go the way you think." It's the perfect summary of what to expect from this film, just as Han Solo's, "Chewie, we're home," signaled a warm and cozy return to a galaxy far, far away in The Force Awakens. The promise of that film’s new characters—Rey, Finn (John Boyega), Poe (Oscar Isaac), and Ben Solo/Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) is delivered on as each character is given an arc that suits them and prepares them to fully take center stage in the sequel trilogy’s forthcoming final installment. Rian Johnson has taken what he loves about Star Wars and deconstructed it with care, preparing the franchise to be about something other than the progeny of Darth Vader.
Though I grew up as George Lucas’ Star Wars prequels were released in theaters, this is really the first time I’ve been able to experience a new Star Wars trilogy and closely identify with its protagonists. Daisy Ridley and John Boyega are the first millennial Star Wars heroes, and their characters have inherited a galaxy where old evils once thought dead have reasserted themselves (look at the First Order as a resurgent form of space Nazism, and it’s not so hard to see the real world parallels). The baby boomer heroes of old didn’t score an everlasting victory, and while some (Luke) resigned from the fight in self-doubt, others (Leia) persevered to lead a new generation of strivers.
In The Force Awakens, Abrams gave us the moment the galaxy was once again thrown into chaos when the First Order destroyed the New Republic in the midst of their search for Luke. Rey and Finn were pulled into the action and aided by an old hero (Han Solo), and in The Last Jedi Rey tries to get Luke, surely the galaxy’s last hope, to rejoin the fight. Johnson very smartly made this film about its younger heroes learning that they have agency, and that it’s crucial for them to be their own saviors. Han is dead, Luke is a grump, and Leia is unconscious for much of this story, so the young ones can’t simply rely on the old guard to be there for them.
The journeys our heroes take to learn these lessons are all about rediscovering hope amidst failure. Characters have failed before in Star Wars—Anakin fell to the Dark Side under Obi-Wan’s tutelage, Luke lost his hand to Darth Vader—but no previous Star Wars film has made a point of calling out failure as not just something to get past, but to reflect on. It’s essential to becoming the hero you want to be.
The Force Awakens gave its new characters moments to choose the great adventure that lay ahead and commit themselves to leaving the past behind. The Last Jedi throws plenty of failure at them: Poe gets a squadron killed, Finn and Rose's (Kelly Marie Tran) mission is derailed, and Rey isn't able to coax Luke off of his island or pull Ben away from the First Order. And yet, the good guys walk away with a stronger resolve than they had at the start. Poe learns to lead; Finn discovers his passion for the good fight; and Rey is at peace with the idea that she doesn't need someone else (specifically parental figures) to validate her worth or tell her where she belongs. Even Ben Solo kills his master, Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), giving us his own dark spin on stepping out of his elder’s shadow.
The canny storytelling choice with these lessons of independence is making them reliant on Luke Skywalker’s own arc without sacrificing any of the younger characters’ autonomy.
Early in The Force Awakens, when Finn tells Rey that BB-8 is carrying a map to Luke Skywalker she looks astonished, and excitedly whispers, "Luke Skywalker? I thought he was a myth!" That Luke—the one from the original trilogy who redeemed Darth Vader, saved the galaxy, and brought balance to the Force—is the only Luke that Rey knows. She has as much information on the last 30 years of his life as we do.
At the beginning of this film, Rey naively appeals to Luke in the hope that he’ll immediately spring back into action. Just give him your best “Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” and we’ll get straight to business, right? Isn’t that how Star Wars works?
Not this time. And it would be pretty boring if Luke didn’t have any changing or learning to do himself.
In The Last Jedi, Luke spends much of his time onscreen regretting his career-ending failure of losing Ben, something that ultimately led to the heartbreak of his sister, and the death of his best friend and brother-in-law. He thinks he failed everyone, and he’s right. Where he’s wrong is letting shame cloud any possible bright future. It takes learning that his ultimate failure was a turning point, not a capstone, to see that he can still live up to the legend of Luke Skywalker.
Yoda, appearing in Force ghost form, schools Luke one last time: “The greatest teacher, failure is. Luke, we are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters.”
Luke doesn’t have to be the lone hero who takes on the baddies, but he can inspire those who will. It’s that lesson that makes him appear through the Force to the Resistance fighters and Ben, allowing Leia and her troops to escape. It’s a powerful, passive use of the Force that ultimately costs Luke his life, but gives the downtrodden people of the galaxy one last fable to tell, reigniting the spark of hope for the next generation.
There’s so much about this film I’d like to discuss—its subversion of expectations, its political commentary, John Williams’ rich score, and the wonderful, final showcase Carrie Fisher is given as Leia—and perhaps if I write more about Star Wars I’ll dig deeper into The Last Jedi. For now, though, I’ll wrap up my thoughts on how it sets the franchise on an exciting new course.
The Skywalker journey began in 1977 with Luke gazing out at the twin suns setting on his desert homestead. "Where will I go? Who will I be?" It's the promise that even the grandest adventure is possible. Rey, too, looked beyond her dreary existence as a scavenger in The Force Awakens. In The Last Jedi, she learns that she doesn't need to be part of the right bloodline to be a Skywalker. To anyone who's gazed out at their own binary sunset and dreamed of doing the impossible, it's not about being a Skywalker, but about finding the Skywalker within. The lesson that anybody can be a hero is one we need now more than ever, and it’s wonderful that after more than 40 years that idea is still the most important thing Star Wars has to offer.