[in between bouts of furiously editing wookieepedia to reflect the true evil of the Star Wars franchise, contributing writer and Darth Jar Jar truther marrrrrrr likes to kick back with a cozy meal and the latest entry in the space opera franchise to cherry pick any evidence for his personal favorite fan theories. this is Midnight Movies.]
film: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)
food: chicken noodle soup
pre-game: been putting off watching this for a while, at least in part b/c i’ve yet to hear a single net-positive review. after how divisive episode 8 was, fans and critics alike seemed united in their disappointment of this installment. to be honest, my estimation is so low that i’m not sure i’ll be able to watch it w/ even the pretense of objectivity. or perhaps such low expectations will leave me pleasantly surprised. there’s one way to find out.
post-game: what would a young child, say someone 8 years old or younger, think of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (aka Episode IX of the Star Wars saga)? for starters, they’d probably enjoy all the flashing lights and graphics. Episode IX, like all of the franchise’s films, is a visual feast with plenty of lasers and light sabers and explosions to draw in fresh eyes. doubtful that they’d care about the actual plot or its relative coherence too much (although even some older kids might be left scratching their heads at a few points). nor would they feel too terribly invested in the callbacks or references to previous movies or shows under the Star Wars umbrella, even if they had been exposed to them.
but they’d almost definitely connect with the small bits of humor sprinkled throughout (mostly courtesy of Poe and Finn), and i think some would even be awestruck, staring in wonder as the epic saga filled with duels and space travel and magic all leading toward an inevitable clash between good and evil unfolded before them.
oh, to be young again.
the first two-thirds of Episode IX finds Jedi novice Rey (Daisy Ridley), ace pilot Poe (Oscar Isaac), and rebel-stormtrooper-turned-resistance-fighter Finn (John Boyega) chasing after a MacGuffin (or even, sometimes, a secondary MacGuffin to locate the primary MacGuffin) that will allow them to confront the bafflingly re-emerged Sheev Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid, returning from Episode(s) VI, I, II & III) all while evading the forces of the “First Order” and their leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). after the trio set off on their mission, the movie quickly settles into a rhythm of: 1) protagonists find some sort of clue, 2) protagonists are discovered by antagonists, and 3) chase and/or combat, introducing, along the way, recognizable characters (both in name and in archetype) and equally recognizable situations.
the nostalgia rush alone might’ve been an enjoyable, if not original, experience, if this all weren’t happening at such a pace so as to diminish any meaningful impact from it, as if the writers were dutifully checking off a “reference” checklist before they could move on to the next part of the plot.
early in the first act, Rey, trying to use the force to prevent an enemy ship with a captured ally from taking off, accidentally blows it up. when, almost one minute later, said ally is revealed to still be alive, the message is clear: this is not a movie that intends in any way to surprise you. (indeed, the last third of the film, featuring the inevitable showdown between the forces of good and the forces of evil, will play out with mind-numbing predictability for any viewer who has seen at least one other movie in the franchise.)
after a divisive fan reaction to Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017) — complete with death threats sent to the filmmakers and some actors — and a “creative conflict” with originally planned director Colin Trevorrow (who, despite two “Jurassic” movies has yet to top the promise of his debut Safety Not Guaranteed (2012)), disney producers ran back to the arms of director/co-writer J.J. Abrams, who previously helmed Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015). and where Episode VII was an inferior and barely tweaked retread of most of the characters and story beats of Episode IV: A New Hope (1977), so too is Episode IX a recycling of Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983).
the result is a film begging the audience to be satisfied with the mere fact of its existence. never mind that Palpatine’s return is “explained” with (i am not joking) exactly as much precision and elegance as a 15 years old “Family Guy” joke. never mind that said return retcons the entire series, including the original trilogy. never mind that the sudden materialization of a massive star destroyer fleet, each ship of which is equipped with “planet-destroying” cannons, is both extremely unbelievable and an artificial way to raise the stakes on the final conflict. never mind that crucial plot points, such as one First Order character’s heel-face turn, are given one-sentence justifications, if justified at all. never mind that the force connection between Rey and Kylo Ren, previously established in Episode VIII, has now inexplicably evolved to include transfer of material objects across star systems (and that this trait is used no less than three times to resolve non-trivial developments of the plot). never mind that the whole thing moves at such a break-neck pace that any fun or interesting moments (such as Rey’s implausible, but very cool, backflip over Kylo Ren’s charging ship or Richard E. Grant’s sleight but crackling performance as First Order general Pryde) are unceremoniously rushed in order to get to the next plot machination or piece of nostalgia-bait.
never mind all that, because “hey look! here’s Lando Calrissian!” (Billy Dee Williams, doing the best with what he’s given, which isn’t much.) “here’s some unexpected characters showing up just in the nick of time at the final moments!” “here’s a sort-of-but-not-really resolution to the romantic tension between Kylo Ren and Rey that will be sure to leave everyone dissatisfied.”
“are you happy now?” the movie seems to be saying.
an underdiscussed reality of film criticism is that every movie, even a universally reviled one, is a miracle, especially in the eyes of children. but, in the so-called “golden age of content,” even kids might demand more than a joyless, 100 million dollar regurgitation of a story that entranced the generation(s) before them.
rating: imagine booking an anniversary dinner for you and your partner at the most expensive restaurant in town, a restaurant so fancy there’s no menu — only the dish of the evening. imagine getting off work early, putting on your finest clothes, traveling to the hippest neighborhood of your city, walking through pristine glass double-doors, being greeted by a host (maybe they compliment your attire), sitting at a candlelit window table, ordering a bottle of red wine. imagine all that, and then being served a still-cold-in-the-middle microwave dinner. it’s a meal, sure, but maybe the owners should consider rearranging their priorities.
