In one theater seat, the casual admirer, the sort who buys a movie ticket with the reasonable expectation of an action-packed space jam. One seat over, behold the massive-obsessive. Their bonafides are unimpeachable. They've been counting down the days to this moment. Star Wars is not merely a fun little kids movie, it's a way of life, redemption and repletion in one riveting package. Their living quarters are barely navigable thanks to all the merchandise they've purchased over the years: DVDs, VHS tapes, books, action figures. They are possibly costumed.
In between these extremes--seated a few rows back, to the right--is the passionate fan. Seen all the entries multiple times, read a couple of the books, shared a theory or two with a similarly obsessed best friend, wishes Mom hadn't tossed out all those toys.
Three distinct types of fan. Three distinct experiences. I am in the rear of the theater: fan since the early 80s (to the point where I used lines of dialogue from The Empire Strikes Back in place of sheep when sleep came slow), saw Return of the Jedi in theaters, whined my way into dozens of play-things and books…hell, my two favorite childhood toys were an X-Wing Fighter and a Mama Pound Puppy with a chocolate-brown coat and dark brown spots.
Now that I've proven I'm old, it's time to talk Episode 8.
SO MUCH SPOIL, incidentally.
General Organa's Resistance is on the run from Supreme Leader Snoke's First Order. Super-pilot Poe Dameron manages to replace one form of doom with another, and the good guys are forced to hyperspace. Yet, through use of a tracking device, the Order is able to find their ships. In the ensuing attack, almost all of the Resistance leaders are taken out. General Leia survives, but is physically unfit to continue command. Assuming her post is Vice Admiral Holdo, a purple-haired hard-ass who instantly clashes with Poe. Upon discovering her plan to evacuate what's left of the Resistance in transport vessels, the impetuous flyboy stages a mutiny with the help of BB-8, Finn and Rose, a maintenance worker whose resolve to defeat the First Order only strengthens after the death of her sister, who served as a gunner.
Those last three travel to the casino city Canto Bight in search of a world-class code-breaker who they must convince to aid in the infiltration of Snoke's ship. They wind up, instead, with a untrustworthy "slicer." Leia awakens and the evacuation mission is back on.
Meanwhile, oh crap, remember the last scene of the last movie? Luke Skywalker is on his "kill your idols" shit. Rey is not to be deterred, though, and eventually convinces Master Skywalker to teach her the ways of the Force. Which is strong in her, incidentally. She and Kylo Ren are having "Force Time" sessions, even. These "talks" are sufficient for Rey to bolt, convinced that she can appeal to the former Ben Solo's lingering sense of decency.
At which point i said to to the screen what I should have said when I was five years old watching Luke leave Dagobah: "Oh you dumbass."
Yep, Rey fell right into the trap. That she escapes is little to do with her, more to do with Kylo, who assumes leadership of the Order and invites her to bathe in the shade. Instead, she boards the Falcon and heads for the salt planet of Crait, where the last few Resistance fighters are stationed. Awesome ground warfare ensues, wherein Finn is saved from martyrdom by an RKO outta nowhere and Luke shows up for one last confrontation with his sister and nephew he failed.
Except he doesn't….really…I mean, he does…I just…oh my gawwwwwwwww……
The Last Jedi is a surprisingly emotional accomplishment, as well the expected visual one (if you like the color red, boy howdy!) It is also at times hilarious, a reminder that these films should be fun and we should remember to have fun watching them. As with the previous entries, the film ends on a hopeful note (the very last scene is downright Spielbergian). Director/writer Rian Johnson is the best thing to happen to the Star Wars franchise since Boba Fett flew into a sand vagina. He dares. We win.
Well, a hand can make several "V" gestures.
There are marvelous performances (Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher, to the surprise of no one; Adam Driver, to the shock of everyone) and some of the most breathtaking shots and sequences in the entire franchise (silence has never been more golden). There are a few underwhelming/odd notes--the character of DJ, the "Whoo!" kid at Canto Bight--as you'd expect from anything with a 152-minute runtime.
Still, Episode Eight has played the Raddus to the fanbase's Supremacy. The discrepancy between the Rotten Tomatoes critic and audience scores is already the stuff of legend (to say nothing of the fan tallies on RT and Cinemascore). The scribes have been mostly positive, almost always fair; fans fill forums and comment sections with paragraphs of effusive praise, followed by paragraph of vitriol.* Passion is a quality I'd never discourage, as I equate apathy with death in all areas of life, but if a person in the process of expressing themselves bends into a shape that allows their brain to slide out, of what value is their expression?
It's good that The Last Jedi has left so many viewers unsettled. Especially the entitled ones. The ones who had their childhood "raped" by The Phantom Menace. The ones who wouldn't know a plot hole from a Plott Hound. The ones who at this very moment are typing about how they want to mouth-fuck the cryogenically frozen head of Walt Disney. The ones who see diversification as automatic detriment. They think too little, or too much.
Example of the former: why didn't Holdo tell Poe her plans? Easy--who in the Tauntaun shit is a renegade pilot to a Vice Admiral? Example of the latter: Snoke got screwed! Snoke is just another sinister figure with a surplus of hubris. At no point in TFA did I sense he was on the level of Palpatine, improved hologram skills notwithstanding.
(Snoke's death also assures us Eppy 9 will not follow the ROTJ formula of conflicted baddie turning to the light and vanquishing his master, since it's already happened. Kylo's gotta be feeling pretty good, having one up on grandpa.)
Yes, Luke was a broken Jedi. That's known as character development.** Yes, they killed Luke. That's called understanding the way life works. Which is to say, that it begins and then it ends. "It's time to move on from the Skywalkers" is just one of several things the death of Carrie Fisher taught me.
The unwillingness to risk, the fear to pioneer, is what allows "Spirit in the Sky" and "Born To Be Wild" to flourish in movies and television to this day. Hell, it was the number one complaint lodged against the Episode Seven!
Careful what you wish for. You might not be willing to get it.
With the last movie, I didn't leave the theater--I hopped fluffy pink clouds. With The Last Jedi, same. Only, the clouds were much darker and bunched much closer together. A self-respecting Star Wars fan should see this film at least twice. Instant mark-out moments abound, as do ones that will take days to process.
Observe. Absorb. Reflect on Luke Skywalker's character arc, from a whiny farmboy to an embittered warrior. Let the emotions flow through you, without pushing out the intelligent thought. Find the wisdom to leave the past in its proper place.***
*I never spend much time rooting around these tunnels, but I don't advocate blocking their entrances. No matter the redolence of moldy fruit and rotting vegetables, all opinions deserve a forum. Respect? Not so much.
**Fans who don't comprehend how Luke could think of slaughtering his own nephew before thinking better of it are also the ones who can't comprehend how Mark Hamill overcame his own trepidation regarding Luke's behavior, and insist on peddling this ridiculous "Even Mark hates this movie!" agenda.
***I can't guarantee that J.J. Abrams will use "Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys for the trailer (however strongly I suspect it) but I know, you know and our shadows know--Force Ghost Luke will be in Episode 9. So dry those eyes, guys.
