“Obi-Wan Kenobi” Gets Off To A Slow Start With First 2 Episodes

SPOILERS FOR KENOBI EPISODES ONE AND TWO AHEAD!

If Lucasfilm plans to rely on Disney+ original series’ like The Mandalorian, The Bad Batch, The Book Of Boba Fett, and now Obi-Wan Kenobi, to keep the Star Wars franchise fresh in peoples’ minds while they work out where to go with the films following the conclusion of the Skywalker Saga and the poor reception to The Rise Of Skywalker, then I’m going to need the writers and showrunners of these series’ to get some fresh ideas because I genuinely don’t know how many more world-weary middle-aged single father figures to rambunctious children I can take from a franchise that has literally all the space in the galaxy to do something different but won’t because it worked that one time in The Mandalorian.

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Obi-Wan Kenobi | tudocelular.com

And Pedro Pascal did it really well in The Mandalorian season one, to be fair, which is why we all fell in love with the trope in the first place and presumably why Pascal is now being typecast as world-weary middle-aged single father figures to rambunctious children even outside of Star Wars. But in the two years since The Mandalorian debuted, with the exception of The Clone Wars‘ final season, the anthology series Star Wars: Visions, and a couple of Lego holiday specials, Star Wars has shifted focus entirely to making stories about – and seemingly targeted at – middle-aged dads.

Is that necessarily a bad thing? No, of course not. It’s not even necessarily indicative of lazy storytelling, because there are many different types of middle-aged dads to be found in this world, and even more to be found amongst the stars, so it stands to reason that there should be a number of subtly different stories to be told about middle-aged dads, each one unique in its own way and worth telling. But I do think it’s worth examining why Star Wars has become…shall we say, a little bit obsessed with this trope recently, before I get into my thoughts on the first two episodes of Kenobi, specifically.

If Star Wars had a long history of telling stories about middle-aged dads/father figures with small children, it would be one thing, but discounting all of the Legends material that Disney decanonized and looking solely at the movies and series’ released prior to The Mandalorian in 2019, there really aren’t that many dads…in fact, absent fathers and the absence of fathers are two recurring themes in the Skywalker Saga, which begins with Anakin Skywalker being born out of a sci-fi Immaculate Conception, then becoming a remote and unapproachable figure in the lives of his children, then being exhumed by his grandson Ben as a stand-in father figure for Ben’s own neglectful father, Han Solo. The cycle theoretically breaks with Rey, an orphan who adopts the Skywalker name and becomes the spiritual descendant of Anakin Skywalker, but sadly we never learned enough about her as a character to say with certainty what she’d be like as a parent.

Then you’ve got the mentors like Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and Luke Skywalker, who will inevitably become the single most important person in the lives of their apprentices after about fifteen minutes of training before dying…but it’s hard to call any of these men (or in Yoda’s case, male-coded aliens) father figures. Maybe Qui-Gon Jinn, but even when Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) calls out to the Force-ghost of his former Jedi master in the first two episodes of Kenobi, I don’t hear the desperation of a son needing a father’s advice, but rather a student seeking the approval of a respected teacher.

After Qui-Gon’s death in A Phantom Menace, I think Obi-Wan tried to be both a mentor and a father figure to Anakin Skywalker, but he was never able to enforce the Jedi Code because of his own complicated relationship with the damn thing, and gradually Anakin started to regard him as a lenient older brother – one whom he loved deeply, but whose guidance he rarely ever felt he needed. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to extrapolate from this that Obi-Wan regarded Anakin’s son Luke as a nephew, especially when you look at their interactions in A New Hope. As for Luke, his relationship with his own students appears to have always been impersonal.

What was my point again? Oh yeah, dads don’t exist in Star Wars; at least as far as the Skywalkers are concerned (in case you’re wondering, moms do exist, but they either die in childbirth like Padmé Amidala or live long enough to become silent, stoic spectators in their sons’ lives, like Shmi Skywalker and even Leia Organa). But then The Mandalorian introduced Baby Yoda into our lives, and nothing has been the same since. Now, every middle-aged man in Star Wars has a child. Crucially, they’re never the biological fathers of these children – because Star Wars is about found-family, and there is something truly touching about characters from vastly different backgrounds forming profound emotional connections.

And for the most part, the trope has worked. I’ve made it clear in the past that, despite my gripes with The Mandalorian‘s sluggish pacing, I am deeply invested in the story of disillusioned bounty hunter Din Djarin coming to care for his pint-sized sidekick Grogu over the course of two seasons. I thought it was adorable when the battle-hardened clones of the Bad Batch adopted the experimental clone Omega and made her feel at home in their tight-knit family unit. I had far bigger issues with The Book Of Boba Fett than Fett randomly taking a teeny-bopper biker gang in off the streets of Mos Eisley (I never wrote about the show because, frankly, it bored me to death).

But my issues with Kenobi, while not limited to fatigue at the overuse of this trope, stem from the showrunners’ perplexing decision to put Kenobi through the single dad filter and saddle him with a small child – a ten-year old Princess Leia Organa (Vivien Lyra Blair), to be precise, kidnapped by mercenaries in the first episode and whisked away to a remote planet in an attempt to lure Kenobi out of hiding. That could have been a unique premise for some kind of sci-fi heist thriller, but Leia stays kidnapped for maybe twenty minutes total before Kenobi locates her in a storage unit, easily incapacitates her guards, and escapes.

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Inquisitor Reva | starwarstime.net

Episode two concludes with the two characters returning to Alderaan, crisis seemingly averted, but it’s implied that they’ll get held up or forced to take a detour so that Obi-Wan Kenobi can learn an important life-lesson from Leia before they part ways – and so that Leia has a chance to meet her biological dad and Kenobi’s pursuer, Darth Vader (Hayden Christensen & James Earl Jones). She won’t be aware she’s just met her biological father, mind you, but fans will be and that’s all that really matters to Lucasfilm; at least based on the staggering number of thoroughly pointless callbacks and namedrops in these first two episodes.

Indeed, the stage is already set for just such an encounter, with ten-year old Leia struggling to reconcile her responsibilities as an Organa with her impulsivity, relentless curiosity, and recklessness – traits apparently common to all Skywalkers. She hates being cooped up in the royal palace, and frustrates her adoptive mother Breha (Simone Kessel) by skipping out on brunches with her cartoonishly pretentious cousins to go climb trees in the forest and watch starships all day, accompanied by an annoyingly cute droid that seems purposefully designed to sell merchandise. Every one of Leia’s scenes is written as if we don’t already know and weren’t literally just reminded in the recap preceding the episode that Leia is, in fact, still a Skywalker, but how could we forget when the characters stop dead in their tracks to tell us that Leia reminds them of someone (Anakin and Padmé. Don’t bother guessing or reading into it, it’s Anakin and Padmé).

Side-note, but there’s something extremely frustrating about the implication that most of Leia’s defining character traits come from her biological parents and not her adoptive parents who actually raised her, loved her, and gave her the life Anakin Skywalker was never going to be able to provide for her. Bail Organa (Jimmy Smits) has a lovely little monologue in the first episode to the general effect of “family is the people you choose, not the people chosen for you”, but his words are undermined by all the callbacks to the Skywalkers that serve only to pull focus from his and his wife’s contributions to the making of Princess Leia as we know her.

Kenobi‘s premise allows its writers to indulge in the kind of incessant namedrops and thinly-veiled references to other movies that quickly become cringeworthy than cute, but the blatant abuse of nostalgia works if the end-goal is to force viewers to look past the poor pacing, lackluster dialogue, and other technical and story issues. Forget that you just watched the same long, slow montage of Obi-Wan Kenobi taking the bus home from work and feeding his alien camel three times – there’s Temuera Morrison, cameoing as a clone trooper of the 501st! There’s that toy starship that Luke Skywalker played with in A New Hope exactly once, and it even has a completely unnecessary backstory now! That guy’s the Grand Inquisitor (Rupert Friend) from Star Wars: Rebels!

Now, to be fair, I was excited for the Grand Inquisitor – even after the trailers gave it away that his distinctive character design hadn’t made the jump from animation to live-action particularly well. I was certainly not expecting his character to be rendered incompetent and seemingly killed off near the end of the second episode, several years before the events of Rebels season one. Regardless of whether he’s dead or alive, however, one thing became clear to me in the moment that Reva (Moses Ingram) impaled him and left his body on the floor of a cargo-bay; Kenobi is probably not aimed at fans of Rebels.

Nor is it designed to appeal to fans of the sequel trilogy. If I had to guess, I’d say that Kenobi is a last-ditch effort by Lucasfilm to try and win back the people most likely to have disliked Rebels and outright despised the sequel trilogy – middle-aged men, particularly those with strong emotional attachments to the characters and settings from the original trilogy and prequel trilogy we’ve seen popping up on Disney+ in all the aforementioned dad-centric Star Wars shows. How much of that is Favreau’s obsession with recapturing the original trilogy’s aesthetics and Filoni’s desire to redeem the public image of the prequels as part of a commitment to George Lucas, and how much of that is Lucasfilm learning all the wrong lessons from the poor reception to the sequel trilogy? I wish I knew.

Favreau and Filoni’s fingerprints are all over Kenobi, although they weren’t involved in the show until surprisingly late in the writing process. Ironically, it’s been confirmed that they were enlisted to tweak the show’s scripts after noticing troubling similarities to The Mandalorian, which raises the question of how much of a blatant Mandalorian rip-off Kenobi must have been that even its revised version still plays out like a Mandalorian rip-off, hitting most of the same beats and falling into all the same traps. Filoni also took the opportunity to insert the Grand Inquisitor, one of his own original characters, into the script (which, come to think of it, might explain why the writers killed him off first chance they got). And of course, Kenobi director Deborah Chow is one of Favreau and Filoni’s recruits, having worked on The Mandalorian season one.

It’s truly unfortunate that Chow and her talented cast are burdened with a writer’s room at war with itself, because here and there are glimmers of what Kenobi could be if it only knew what it was trying to be, and how to get to that point swiftly and directly. In Obi-Wan Kenobi’s self-imposed exile on Tatooine, I see the potential for a raw and unflinching character study, something wholly unlike anything we’ve seen before in Star Wars. You want to throw Darth Vader in there too, explore Kenobi’s guilt over losing his closest friend – his brother – to the Dark Side and the toll of isolation on a mind already fractured by that kind of anguish, sure! I’d be down for that.

Or…we could do another show about a grumpy middle-aged guy and a small child working together to fight bad guys while running around the galaxy. That works too, I guess. It’s just…not the kind of Obi-Wan Kenobi story I would have expected to be set after his self-imposed exile on Tatooine, that’s all. It makes you wonder why Kenobi would go back to Tatooine after this is over if he realizes now that Leia is every bit as important as Luke and requires the same constant surveillance to ensure that someone doesn’t…I don’t know, kidnap her again. Not like the high-profile daughter of a senator publicly opposed to the Empire’s authoritarianism might be in constant danger or anything.

I can nitpick stupid stuff like that, but we’d be here all day and it wouldn’t get us anywhere because ultimately, my problem with Kenobi is just that I’m not feeling the decision to make it another single dad story in the style of The Mandalorian, but I can’t fully explain why, even to myself. I just know it’s not working for me yet and I’m getting a bit tired of the trope, but if you enjoy all these stories about single dads, or if you can relate to them on an emotional level, or if you just think single dads are attractive, more power to you.

I debated publishing this post because I hate to be critical of something that people seem to be having a fun time with, especially when my issues with it aren’t concrete, but hey, it happens sometimes. I don’t like everything that Marvel’s been putting out lately, either, and it’s caused me to stop writing as frequently about either franchise.

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Obi-Wan Kenobi | theverge.com

Oh, one last thing before I go. I want to make it abundantly clear that regardless of your opinions on Kenobi, you should be able to express those opinions without resorting to racism, sexism, and other forms of bullying….and if, for whatever reason, you feel like you can’t, then there’s a better than even chance that you are a racist, a sexist, and a bully. And I will not tolerate the harassment of the show’s actors, who are just doing their jobs and putting in good performances, I might add, so if you’re tempted to spew that nonsense in my comments section, I will delete your comments and block you expeditiously.

Episode Rating: 5.5/10

“Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker” Spoiler Review!

The Skywalker Saga has concluded in fire, blood and Force lightning. After forty-two years of incredible journeys across the stars, from Naboo to Mustafar to Tatooine and Endor, from clone wars and intergalactic trade disputes to hopeless rebellions, empires, and the like, we have finally reached the story’s final, and defining, chapter. And that means it’s time to discuss all the major reveals, revelations and shocking surprises in a movie that is largely made up of such moments, in my spoiler review of Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker.

And, um, SPOILERS AHEAD, obviously.

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There is a lot to love in this film, and a lot of elements and plot-points that have already been generating arguments and heated debates throughout the Star Wars fandom. We’re going to go through each of the film’s most divisive surprises, from low-stakes squabbles to the-fate-of-the-universe-hangs-in-the-balance battles.

Let’s start the ball rolling with two moments that absolutely could have been high-stakes scenes, but were quickly undermined. The first involved everybody’s favorite Wookie, Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), and his fakeout death on the desert planet of Pasaana. Chewie is captured by stormtroopers and almost gets carried away in a transport shuttle, before Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) use the Force to drag the ship this way and that in a potentially fatal game of tug-and-war. This moment echoes an iconic The Last Jedi scene in which Rey and Kylo struggle for mastery over Luke Skywalker’s old lightsaber, but here the outcome is that Rey suddenly unleashes a fiery explosion of Force lightning to try and overcome Kylo’s grip, blowing up the shuttle and giving us a hint of her Sith heritage. Fortunately for Rey, Chewie wasn’t killed in the explosion after all, and survives all the ensuing violence to finally get rewarded with his very own medal, having waited forty-two years to get recognition for his help in destroying the Death Star. Later in the movie, the same sort of scenario involves C-3PO (Anthony Daniels), who has to have his memory completely wiped so that he can be made to speak Sith, so that Rey can find the ruins of the Death Star, so that she can discover a Sith Wayfinder which Kylo ultimately destroys in the palm of his hand, so…there was no reason for C-3PO to have his memory wiped at all. Thankfully the movie remembers this and has an irate R2-D2 (Hassan Taj/Lee Towersey) reverse the override and restore C-3PO’s fond recollections of his best friend. The moment when he “dies” is still emotional, and does lead to some funny jokes, as all good C-3PO scenes do, but all of those theories about “Sith-3PO” were making mountains out of one very small, unimportant molehill.

The relationship dynamics in Rise Of Skywalker are next on the list, not only because of how screentime is wasted on them, but because of how unbearably messy they are. It’s no secret anymore that director J.J. Abrams and The Last Jedi director Rian Johnson couldn’t ever figure out any sort of continuity between their films, but the whiplash of seeing our protagonists leap at light-speed from one relationship to the next here seems to imply that Abrams can’t even establish continuity with…himself. Rey and her possibly Force-sensitive friend Finn (John Boyega) were the sequel trilogy’s “original” love story, back when Finn was cool for about five minutes, but that was before the fandom collectively went crazy for “Reylo”, the popular coupling of Rey and Kylo Ren that finally gets payoff in Rise Of Skywalker with the pair’s first kiss and declarations of mutual love – sort of: Driver and Ridley speak volumes with subtle gestures, and don’t really need to say anything at all. Such is not the case for Finn, who spends a large part of the movie waiting to tell Rey something, presumably something romantic, before just…forgetting? Moving on? He clearly has some emotions for her at the beginning of the film, despite having been caught up in a romantic entanglement with fellow Resistance fighter Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) in The Last Jedi, and with fellow ex-stormtrooper Jannah (Naomi Ackie) here in Skywalker. But then again, Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) also maybe has a thing for Rey, or was I the only one getting that from their weirdly flirtatious exasperated argument in the film’s opening scenes, which even features droid BB-8 humorously looking back and forth between the two characters as Rey reprimands Poe for lightspeed-skipping in the Millennium Falcon, and Poe tells her off for damaging BB-8 (even as relationships crash and burn around them, Poe and BB-8 are resolutely loyal to each other: there’s a love story for you, and it would still be less weird than whatever was going on between Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams) and the much-younger Jannah during the film’s finale). Meanwhile the film continues to tease the idea of semi-romantic tension between Finn and Poe in the subtlest possible way, while also giving Poe a former female love interest of his own, one who doesn’t really have a whole lot to do except be Poe’s former female love interest. I think the crucial element here is that she’s female: after all, gotta squash all those gay rumors. Having a two-second lesbian kiss is surely enough to make up for no substantial LGBTQ+ representation in forty-two years (and for certain countries, it was apparently too much).

Let’s move on to female characters, who, with the obvious exceptions of Rey and Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher, in her final, posthumous appearance), tend to get the bare minimum of screen-time or development. I’d be hard pressed to tell you what I thought of Jannah, Rose Tico or Zorii Bliss (Keri Russell), none of whom actually has anything to do except look cool, stand around, or stand around and look cool. Both Jannah and Zorii are at least technically supposed to have a handful of emotional beats each, but Rose especially seems to exist solely to make sure angry audience-members don’t ask where she went. But she might as well just not be here at all – she has maybe two or three throwaway lines, few if any character-building moments, and seemingly no acknowledgement of the fact that she was Finn’s love interest in the previous movie. I didn’t even think they were a particularly cute couple, but after the nightmare that actress Kelly Marie Tran went through, experiencing bullying and harassment from toxic fans, it seems suspiciously convenient that she’s little more than an extra in this film.

Other characters who fail to make an impression (and don’t worry, we’re almost done with the film’s big negatives), even after being hyped-up in the marketing, include Dominic Monaghan as another extra whose name I have already forgotten; Lupita Nyong’o reprising her role as Maz Kanata (another female character pretty much wasted); the super-creepy alien assassin Ochi of Bestoon (Liam Cook), who killed Rey’s parents and was then devoured by a giant sand-worm; and, unfortunately, Rey’s actual parents, played by Billy Howle and Jodie Comer. Yes, the very same Jodie Comer who is one of the Hollywood’s biggest rising stars at the moment – how are we not talking about the fact that she is in Star Wars, people?

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empireonline.com

J.J. Abrams was always going to have to struggle to come up with an explanation for how Rey’s parents could technically be nobodies, but also somebodies: what he devised is pretty complex, so stick with me here. Rey’s grandfather is Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid), and her father is Palpatine’s hitherto-unknown son. Before this extraordinary reveal, it was never indicated that Palpatine ever had a son, or a family, or a life, for that matter: not as the Emperor, not even as Sheev Palpatine, Senator from Naboo. Not only are we never told the son’s name, or when he was born, where he came from, or whether he was Force-sensitive himself, but we are never given the answer to the most glaringly obvious question that arises as a result of this reveal: who, dare I ask, was the poor unfortunate soul that birthed Palpatine’s son, and…um, why? Was he born when Palpatine was still a relatively human person, or after Palps had transformed into the ghastly, shriveled-up hobgoblin that we’re most familiar with? Anyway, Rey’s Father, it is revealed, chose to be a nobody instead of embracing his family name, and that’s why he and his wife sold their daughter into a torturous life of basically slavery, to protect her from Palpatine – because of course any good parent, knowing they’re about to die, would choose to sell their own child to an abusive community of junk-traders and scavengers rather than, oh I don’t know, leaving her with people who might actually care about her safety! And of course it makes sense that, after killing the parents, Ochi of Bestoon didn’t fly back to Jakku and hunt down the only human girl in a village that we saw in The Force Awakens was probably less than a mile wide. In other words, while the parents were marginally necessary, it would’ve probably made more sense to have her be, like Anakin, the result of Palpatine’s meddling with midi-chlorians (or are we still trying to ignore those were ever a thing?). She could still have been a Palpatine, and we wouldn’t be left with the horrifying implied revelation that Palpatine actually fathered a child.

Apart from the messiness of the Rey Palpatine reveal, the Emperor’s return is a welcome one. His resurrection is completely unexplained (“The dead speak!”, the film’s opening crawl reads, and that’s about as much explanation as you’re gonna get), but it’s nice to see that he isn’t totally back in shape after being tossed into the hellfire that was the second Death Star’s utter obliteration: now, the Emperor’s limp, skeletal body moves around on the end of a long metal crane-arm extended from the ceiling of his throne room on the Sith planet Exegol, like a creepy ventriloquist doll speaking with the voices of a thousand generations of Jedi. McDiarmid is obviously fabulous, and even gets to briefly return to a form we last saw him take in Revenge Of The Sith, as he sucks the life force out of Rey and Kylo Ren to repair his broken body and restore his strength. This time around he’s extra moody, having just discovered that his granddaughter doesn’t want to take part in the Palpatine family photo-op with his millions of ghostly Sith followers. And so, with no choice left to him but to destroy the universe, he unleashes the Final Order.

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The Final Order is appropriately ominous at first, as we see hundreds of titanic star destroyers rise from beneath the ice of Exegol, each armed with a planet-destroying weapon, to wreak havoc on the galaxy and establish Palpatine’s dominion. But these weapons are only used, to obliterate a single planet, and as a result the Final Order is ultimately defeated by a cavalry of space-goats. For the record, I have no complaints about that – in Star Wars, the underdog always comes out on top, and we love to see it. The film’s epic finale has Lando Calrissian and about a billion other spaceships pop out of hyperspace to come rescue the goat-riders and put an end to General Pryde (Richard E. Grant) and his menacing fleet – though not before a couple more deaths, including that of pilot Snap Wexley (Greg Grunberg), who gets shot down just before the battle turns in the Resistance’s favor. Bad timing, Snap.

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But few of the film’s scenes hit home quite like Leia Organa’s death, and the extensive use of ghosts, Force-ghosts and Jedi voice-overs. Midway through the movie, as Kylo Ren and Rey duel to the death amongst the shattered ruins of the Death Star, Leia finally reaches out to her son through the Force, using all of her Jedi training to find her son, the Ben Solo she knew and still loved, and bring him back to the Light Side. She succeeds, but has to use all of her remaining strength to achieve victory over the corrupting influence of Palpatine and his puppet Snoke (voiced by Andy Serkis), who had stolen Ben away from her and turned him into Kylo Ren. In the end, though Leia passes away in the attempt, she is a crucial element in the Skywalker Family’s victory over the Sith, just as we had all hoped she would be. There is no doubt that, if Carrie Fisher were still alive, then Leia would have had a much larger role in this film, but what we get is still powerful and emotionally satisfying – Luke Skywalker’s Force-ghost tells Rey that Leia actually trained to be a Jedi after the fall of the Empire, and he even gives her Leia’s very own lightsaber, which Rey subsequently uses, along with Luke’s a.k.a Anakin’s, to defeat Palpatine, symbolically uniting the power of all the previous Skywalkers against the Emperor. But it’s not just the Skywalkers who stand with Rey – it’s all of the past Jedi, who visit Rey as voices in her head as she lies, almost lifeless, on the ground at Palpatine’s feet: and I’m not even just talking Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) and Yoda (Frank Oz). A whole bunch of fallen Jedi give advice and courage to our protagonist in that moment, from Obi-Wan Kenobi (voiced by Ewan McGregor and Alec Guinness) Qui-Gon Jinn (voiced by Liam Neeson) and Mace Windu (voiced by Samuel L. Jackson), to some of the extended universe’s most notable heroes like Kanan Jarrus (Freddie Prinze Jr.) and Ahsoka Tano (voiced by Ashley Eckstein), who apparently died a Jedi despite (a) being alive the last time we saw her, and (b) leaving the Jedi Order in The Clone Wars. Fittingly, the final word is given to Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) himself, as the Jedi-turned-Sith-turned-Jedi tells Rey to restore balance to the Force and finish what he started. But even as a thousand generations of Jedi live inside Rey (something she acknowledges in an Iron Man-esque growl of determination, with her “I am all the Jedi” line), so too does Ben Solo have his own ghosts. Soon after being redeemed by his mother’s purifying love, Ben has a conversation with the ghost of his father, Han Solo (Harrison Ford), who actually appears physically – and, weirdly, also has audible footsteps, despite being intangible – and, in typical Han fashion, abruptly cuts his son off before he can start apologizing for all his sins with a quick “I know”, echoing his long-ago declaration of love to Princess Leia.

There are many echoes reverberating in The Rise Of Skywalker, from quick but powerful payoffs, to a number of startlingly poetic parallels. Even Luke Skywalker is still developing as a character even after his death, finally managing to lift his X-Wing fighter jet from the waters of Ahch-To even after infamously failing to do so on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back. Ben Solo echoes Anakin’s redemption arc by turning to the Light at the end of the movie, helping Rey to defeat Palpatine. And it’s Palpatine’s own Force-lightning which Rey deflects back into his hideous face, ultimately disintegrating the Emperor (in what appears to be a Raiders Of The Lost Ark callback) and preventing Rey herself from succumbing to the Dark Side. And then, she sort of dies.

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But thankfully, all those Force-phone calls between Rey and Ben were actually leading up to something, and something big: while in The Last Jedi they mostly just provided the two characters a way to communicate, Rise Of Skywalker adds a new wrinkle to the relationship, allowing Rey and Ben the ability to transfer physical objects via telepathy, including a beaded necklace, Darth Vader’s helmet, and a helpful lightsaber. Ben, cradling Rey’s dead body in his arms after the battle, is able to take things one step further by physically transferring his own life to Rey, reviving her but also killing himself in the process. Rey is quick on the uptake and manages to steal a kiss from the redeemed Jedi, just before he fades away into the Force, leaving Rey Palpatine to carry on with the massive burden placed upon her by generations of Jedi, Sith and Force meddling.

One thing she will not be carrying anymore is the Palpatine family name, which she abandons in the film’s final scene in exchange for “Skywalker”. The scene is a poignant one: Rey goes to Tatooine and buries Luke and Leia’s twin lightsabers just outside the Lars moisture-farm where the story began back in 1977. The Skywalker siblings’ Force-ghosts, united in death, look on as she takes up their family name and sets out into the double sunset with BB-8 beside her, and a lightsaber of her own (a lightsaber that I and many others think is yellow, while others claim it’s white). This is undoubtedly the film’s most controversial move: on the one hand, it makes sense that Rey wouldn’t want to be a Palpatine, and it’s poetic for her to adopt the Skywalker name, making sure that their name never dies out from the galaxy. On the other hand, fans are upset that Rey didn’t simply choose to keep the Palpatine name and redefine her grandfather’s legacy, proving that you can still be a good person, no matter where you come from or who your family happens to be. Both arguments are understandable, but at the end of the day it comes down to the fact that Star Wars has always been the story of the Skywalker family – to let their memory die out, buried in the sands of Tatooine, would be a dishonor to their legacy.

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And with that, the story of Skywalker is finished, once and for all. Peace has been restored to the galaxy. Balance in the Force has been achieved, through the actions of Rey Skywalker and Ben Solo, champions of the Light and Dark, who came together in what they called a “Force dyad” to become the “two that are one” – remember my Star Wars recap reviews, where I told you that duality would have a part to play in this last movie? I didn’t even expect that sort of shoutout in the film’s own dialogue (I expected it to be all in the subtext), but the confirmation was highly appreciated. The Empire, The First Order, and The Final Order have all been vanquished, and nobody needs to build any more Death Stars. For the first time, the galaxy is completely tranquil, and we no longer need to worry about what Sith Lord will rise next, because there won’t be another Sith Lord. This is it. This is the end.

We, the fans of this incredible franchise, have finally brought the story home. There will undoubtedly be much more Star Wars to come in future years, whether in the form of prequels or sequels, but I hope that Disney never feels the need to resurrect Palpatine once again, or bring the Skywalkers back. Any tampering along those lines would serve only to ruin the perfection of this pure, beautiful moment.

This is the ending we’ve been looking for.

“Star Wars: A New Hope” Review!

We are officially in the last leg of the long journey to Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker, which means that the mighty Skywalker Saga, a story spanning forty years across films, books, comics, cartoons and video games is finally coming to a close – which in turn means that it’s time to reflect on that nine-part saga and take a good long look at the films that predate and inform Rise Of Skywalker‘s epic conclusion.

To do that, we’re going to have to discuss spoilers for each of the eight films in the Saga, so…SPOILERS AHEAD.

(Before we begin, be aware that I’m going through the list by order of release date: I understand that George Lucas wanted movies 4, 5 and 6 to be movies 1, 2 and 3 and to be treated as such – but they’re not good enough to warrant that distinction. Sorry, George).

Star Wars: A New Hope

"Star Wars: A New Hope" Review! 7
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The movie that started it all: not just the opening chapter in the story of the Skywalker family and their tumultuous game of tug-of-war between opposing sides of the Force, but also the movie that birthed Hollywood’s current blockbuster trend (apart from the prequels, which were crushed under the hairy heels of hobbits, every Star Wars movie in the Skywalker Saga has been the highest-grossing movie in the year of its release). Star Wars is one of the defining checkpoints in cinematic history, and it will always have that distinction – few other films have shaped the entertainment industry, and pop culture in general, in the way that Star Wars did. Even in the days before the internet and social media, the film permeated every aspect of society, spawning merchandise, mantras, mannerisms, and that notorious Christmas special that George Lucas wants you to forget about. It makes Rise Of Skywalker all the more frightening – for the first time in forty-two years, the Star Wars franchise will have no clear direction, no overarching story, no Skywalker to follow into the future.

But as that future is still more than a week away, let us savor this moment of blissful ignorance and return to the craggy deserts of Tatooine, a remote planet nestled in a forgotten corner of the Outer Rim, somewhere long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away – an inconspicuous space rock that, for whatever reason birthed the Star Wars franchise’s most iconic hero and villain. The harsh sand is illuminated by the planet’s dual suns (duality is Star Wars‘ most constant theme: make a note of that), and crawling with Jawas, Tusken Raiders, and the handful of moisture farmers who call the desert home. It’s probably the most iconic locale in all of science-fiction. But after all this time, surely both Tatooine’s rugged charm and Luke Skywalker’s simplistic journey to heroism have been antiquated by the deluge of even larger, more epic sci-fi stories that erupted in the film’s wake?

Nope. That is to say: yes, some parts of A New Hope maybe aren’t quite as spectacular and compelling as they were in 1977 – but all in all, the film is still extremely entertaining, ridiculously fun, and brilliantly unique. There are things I love about the movie – there are also things that I strongly dislike. And, in a couple of situations, there are things which would work, but don’t anymore because of the events of other Star Wars movies. Let’s run through the list.

What is still great about A New Hope? So much. But above anything else – the film’s story. I called it simplistic, and it is: but it’s archetypal, so it has to be. Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) was never a very complex character in the original film – he was the standard white male protagonist whose inferior knockoffs have since infested every inch of genre fiction. Morally pure but headstrong, loyal but self-doubting, readily equipped with magic sword and grappling hook but pacifistic nevertheless (okay, the grappling hook is actually one of Luke’s more unique accessories: shamefully, it was only ever used once). Most of the ensemble cast are also fairly ordinary: the rogue with a heart of gold, the princess, the mentor figure unwillingly called out of retirement, the bumbling comic relief characters. And the film never does anything particularly unexpected or extraordinary with any of them – they go about their quest, and achieve it with a minimum amount of casualties (except for the mentor, of course: the mentor always dies). But there’s nothing wrong with a classic Hero’s Journey, and A New Hope arguably tells it better than almost any other example out there. And you have to first build a myth if you’re going to start deconstructing it.

"Star Wars: A New Hope" Review! 8
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A New Hope also does a good job of disguising the fact that its characters are archetypes: for example, while Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) is technically a “damsel in distress”, she never actually stresses or cracks under pressure. She resists the interrogations and torture methods employed upon her by the greatest Sith Lord in the universe, and even dares to lie to Grand Moff Tarkin (the fabulous Peter Cushing) in order to buy time for her friends: and once freed from prison, she grabs herself a blaster gun and takes part in the action. As soon as she returns to her Rebel hideout, she takes the reins and orchestrates the daredevil raid on the Death Star. And of course, she was the person entrusted with the Death Star plans in the first place.

And even if monomyths and archetypes are too cliché for some, they’re made new and invigorating by the story’s bold, high-concept sci-fi – a genre which has largely been synonymous with Star Wars ever since the first film’s release. George Lucas could easily have adapted the sleek, shiny, futuristic look of Star Trek into his own universe: but instead, he chose to go for a more realistic “used future”, one full of grit, grime, and rebel scum. This same basic principle – that a fantasy universe should and could feel lived-in, with a little help from a willing crew of craftspeople, costume designers and prop-makers –  would later be adopted by Peter Jackson when making The Lord Of The Rings, which is why I felt it was necessary to add to my list.

"Star Wars: A New Hope" Review! 9
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Building off of that: spaceships and aliens. From the film’s opening shot (which has been mirrored and referred back to many times since), Star Wars has always been, at least partially, about building bigger and bigger spaceships and then finding ways to blow them up – after all, there wouldn’t be any star war to speak of if the Empire didn’t have a gazillion TIE-fighters and star destroyers, or if the Rebellion wasn’t armed with their battered fleet of X-Wings (and one Millennium Falcon). A New Hope has some great scenes in space, and some incredible spaceships – not to mention the mighty Death Star, a weapon of mass destruction that would be a lot more intimidating if it wasn’t basically the only idea the Empire ever had. Every ship in Star Wars, whether built to weather the sands of Tatooine or the cold void of space, has its own little quirks and characteristics: even if it’s often impossible to remember every spaceship’s name (the Falcon, Tantive IV, um…), they’re all still easily distinguishable.

The aliens, while undoubtedly being some of Star Wars‘ most iconic characters, are rather few and far between in A New Hope. With each new movie in the franchise, the Rebellion has become more and more diverse, but the original film’s trusty team of fighter pilots consisted entirely of white men. Chewbacca the Wookie (Peter Mayhew) is the only alien present in the film’s epic finale (and it feels mean to call him an alien: Chewie is part of the family). This is something that feels even weirder when you consider that the crew of pilots and soldiers in Rogue One (which is set only about a week before the events of A New Hope) is much more diverse, with women, people of color, and aliens all piloting spaceships and taking part in the Rebellion. But there are enough aliens packed into the Mos Eisley spaceport on Tatooine to fill roughly thirty who’s-who books: Figrin D’an and his groovy band, the Modal Nodes; Greedo, the rubbery green rat who may or may not have shot first (more on that in a moment); Jawas, furtive junk-traders and robbers eternally swaddled in dark robes; the barbaric Tusken Raiders, who are indirectly responsible for Darth Vader; and of course, the mighty Jabba the Hutt, who was digitally added into the film during one of George Lucas’ many attempts to retouch the original trilogy with fancier special effects.

And now we have to get into the bad stuff: specifically, the awkward mishmash of VFX and practical effects that Lucas’ tampering is responsible for – in the late 90’s and early 2000’s, not content with allowing the original films to age gracefully, Lucas, who was at that point busy suffocating his prequel trilogy in horrendous CGI nonsense, decided to go back and insert some of his new favorite ingredient into the older films: the result is…unfortunate, to say the least. Not only because the CGI is bad, inconsistent, and messily applied, but also because it robs A New Hope of a lot of its charm. Is it kind of silly that spaceships and entire planets explode into sparkling smoke in the original film? Yes, of course: for example, it’s a bit of a downgrade to go from watching 2016’s Rogue One (which, again, is set only a few days before A New Hope), which does a great job of displaying the Death Star’s horrific powers – to the original Death Star, which just zaps planets out of existence in two seconds with a pyrotechnics flash, before itself being zapped. But that wasn’t even the only sort of thing that George Lucas was interested in changing: apparently dissatisfied with the story he had crafted, he also edited scenes differently to present different narratives – which is how we ended up with the “Han shot first” debacle.

"Star Wars: A New Hope" Review! 10
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The “Han shot first” debacle is the Star Wars fandom’s equivalent of “do Balrogs have wings?”, or “how did Steve return the Soul Stone?”. Back in 1977, it wasn’t even a question: when Han Solo (Harrison Ford) was accosted by the green space alien mercenary Greedo (Paul Blake) in the Mos Eisley cantina, he undeniably shot first, before Greedo had a chance to move. And for most people, that was perfectly fine: it was totally in character for the rogue, and it was a cool, tense scene. But for George Lucas, it painted Han Solo as a merciless killer, so he tinkered with it to add in a few frames where Greedo shoots first, missing Han (which doesn’t even make sense, considering he was sitting about two feet away from him), and giving Han justification for firing back. In 2004, Lucas changed it again, having both Han and Greedo fire at the same time, with Han somehow dodging Greedo’s shot. And now, the controversy has been stirred up again by the Disney+ version of the film, which gives Greedo an added line of dialogue, in which he threatens Han with the menacing word “maclunkey” before shooting. The debacle has sparked outrage on both sides of the argument: Lucas claims that it was always meant to be that way (despite original scripts proving otherwise); Paul Blake is outraged that his character shot first, saying it makes Greedo look pathetic for missing at such short range; and Harrison Ford doesn’t know or care who shot first. The question of which version is “right” is bound to linger for many more years to come. For more info on the subject, you can check out Wikipedia’s entire article on “Han shot first”.

Lucas’ meddling has done a great deal of damage to the franchise: the attempt to blend the styles of the first two trilogies into one cohesive whole isn’t necessarily a bad idea, but it doesn’t work; Lucas’ insistence that 1977 audiences accidentally fell in love with only “half a completed film” feels like a slap in the face to the franchise’s earliest fans; and his eventual decision to step away from Star Wars entirely seems, in hindsight, like sore losing, as if he can’t quite understand that his films don’t need to be 100% perfect in order to be good. They’re beloved classics already: they should remain classic.

"Star Wars: A New Hope" Review! 11
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So does A New Hope still hold up after all this time? I think that, if you can look past the film’s very few flaws (most of which are the fault of George Lucas’ perfectionism), then you’ll find that the very first Star Wars movie is still one of the franchise’s very best. It’s not as visionary as The Empire Strikes Back or The Last Jedi, nor even as complex as The Revenge Of The Sith, but it’s still just as much (if not more) fun than all three of those entries.

Movie Rating: 8.5/10