Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Review and Thoughts (Spoilers)

The following is my review, or perhaps should I say commentary, on the latest Star Wars installment: The Last Jedi, episode VIII of the SW saga.

** I’ll need to go over plot points and details, therefore this text will contain spoilers - not just about this installment but also others, as well as the saga as a whole. You’ve been warned. **

While I definitely enjoy sci-fi, I’m not much of a Star Wars fan - at least not to the level of dedicated fandom certain movies develop. In fact, if I am to be perfectly honest, the truth is that I could’ve easily gone without seeing the movie. However me and Teresa were hoping to spend some quality time at the cinema around the Christmas time, and the movie was, obviously, the most noteworthy title.

Having said that, let me also be clear: Star Wars in my opinion really goes beyond just a movie or a series of movies. It’s really a deeply and widely impactful cultural phenomenon of our society, one that spans multiple generations. It’s part of the zeitgeist. So as much as I’m commenting I could easily not go see it, I’m not exactly indifferent to it either. I would have to watch it anyway, eventually, if nothing else to stay up to date with what’s going on.

But perhaps because I wasn’t especially “emotionally invested” in the movie, if you will - in other words, I hadn’t participated in any kind of theorizing regarding how plot points were headed, how they were going to be solved, or what would happen to characters - I hadn’t harbored any expectations about what would happen in it. I went to see the movie in a relatively neutral state of expectation.

The movie contains a considerable number of changes and subversions of its own ways. Meaning, at various points it changes the way it does things, compared to how previous Star Wars movie would “traditionally” work. Some fans who went to see the movie reacted to such changes positively; others not so much. These are actually the chances I wanted to discuss in this commentary. Because when I was watching the movie in the theater (therefore prior to becoming acquainted with how the world is receiving the film), I found myself detecting such changes, gradually, one by one, as the movie went on. And I found myself reacting to them, on my own. And, for the most part (although not always), my reaction was somewhere along the lines of: “ah… I see what you’re doing. And I think I like it”.

My opinion of the movie wasn’t “wow, this the greatest movie of all time!”. It has plenty of flaws and contrivances. But, I ended up actually liking it, at least as a whole.

In order to explain myself better, please allow me a moment to backtrack a little… and by a little I mean quite a lot.

 

The Very Beginning

When the very first Star Wars movie, Star Wars Episode IV — A New Hope (1977), was being made and released, I believe those involved in its creation had little idea how successful the movie was going to be, or if at all. I mean I suppose you always hope for success when you're going something like this; nevertheless, those participating in the movie were surely taken by surprise by the level of success it achieved.

Star Wars came about from the creative mind of a sole person, George Lucas, who was personally driven to pitch, write, and film his strange and innovative creation for the world to see. Production and filming of the movie were relatively "experimental", maybe indie-like, in the sense that, in a way, no one really sensed its potential other than Lucas. The studio that financed the film, Fox, had agreed to forfeit merchandising rights to Lucas, initially not seeing the movie as particularly worthy of turning a meaningful profit. Most of the actors weren’t quite sure how seriously they were meant to take the gig, famously only acting more uptight and professional on set whenever respected veteran actor Sir Alec Guinness (Hobi-Wan Kenobi) was around. It would be considered relatively unlikely that a goofy sci-fi film would have any significant projection. Later, however, it would become clear as water that the world was more than ready to welcome Star Wars.

George Lucas, creator of Star Wars

The tone of the finished movie had some elements of drama, weight. It’s the story of an adopted kid with a seemingly unknown and unimportant background, who is suddenly called into an exciting and dangerous world to help a good-natured Rebellion fight an evil Galactic Empire, with repercussions across the whole Galaxy. The kid loses its adoptive parents to the relentless Empire; its mentor is slain by the menacing big bad. The movie swiftly transmits the evil side as actually evil, ruthless, not to be trifled with, dead serious in fighting its enemies and, in order to achieve its ends, not minding the means one bit.

But the movie had quite a lot of fun, adventure, and a childish lightness to it as well. Many of the movie’s aliens and creatures were created using practical effects, and often puppets. This would a trend used by other movies at the time, mostly child-minded or fantasy ones, under the spiritual influence and/or direct participation of Jim Henson and Frank Oz, such as the The Dark Crystal (1982), Neverending Story (1984), Labyrinth (86), and the more dark comedy-oriented Gremlins (1984), for example. The second and third movie in the trilogy went so far as to introduce a core character to the story, Master Yoda, to mentor the main character of the story. Yoda was a character with sage-like attributes who served in the plot as a memory from the past and a beacon of wisdom and knowledge, not only to the main character but in many ways to the audience as well — and he was a puppet.

George Lucas, Frank Oz with Yoda

The bulk of the evil troops' faces — as well as the actual big bad — were completely hidden under standardized and stylized masks and armor, which not only made them easy for the audience to identify, but also helped convey them as anonymously and mindlessly evil, thus making it less morally divisive for the audience to see them being shot down and taken out by the good side. Throughout the course of the original trilogy (and, quite notoriously) the bad guy troops were extremely poor shots, being able to spray quite a lot of laser fire with their rifles but almost inevitably missing the main characters completely, even when they weren’t particularly careful or were standing wide in the open. One of the reasons for this was to confer lightness to the action: many shots being fired would create some tension and danger for the heroes, but not necessarily prevent them from going about performing their dastardly, heroic deeds.

The first three movies would continue to alternate between the two aforementioned tones. In Episode VI — Return of the Jedi (1983), a significant portion of the film and its action are spent in the moon of Endor, involving small, primitive, kid-like furry creatures resembling teddy bears, called Ewoks. The movie includes a David vs Goliath battle between Ewoks using sticks and stones, and a full complement of armored, laser-armed Empire troopers, with the backup of giant bipedal metal machines with cannons — and the Ewoks win. At one point an Ewok is seen throwing a stone at a soldier’s helmet, and the throw comes across as tame and ineffectual. Yet despite this, the soldier proceeds to drop to the ground as if gravely wounded.

A number of spin-off movies and TV productions were made in involving the Star Wars universe, many pressing further on the child-like tone. This was notable with Caravan of Courage: An Ewok Adventure (1984) and Ewoks, the Battle for Endor (1985), both arguably targeting a younger audience. Then there’s also the less known yet quite infamous Star Wars Holiday Special (1978), a musical TV adaptation featuring a number of elements wildly dissonant with the well-known ethos of the saga - such as having the original actors singing, or Wookies speaking in English, for example.

Star Wars Holiday Special Poster

During this period, through these various experiments and spin-offs, it was almost as if the saga itself was exploring, trying to decide, just how seriously it wanted to take itself and be taken by others. And what tone was most correct for it - and which ones weren't. Nevertheless, the main three movies of the original trilogy did manage to effectively combine these two tones - the more dramatic and serious with the more lighthearted and whimsical - to create clean characters with clear roles and identities, living in a Universe that felt real, used, and worn, thrown into a story where the stakes where high and peril was real, but also with moments of innocence, levity, and endearing hope.

 

Evolution?

In the late 90s and early 2000s, George Lucas would proceed to film further three installments in the saga, this time three movies that would serve as prequels to the original trilogy, going over the story of how the original big bads (Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine) and their Evil Empire came to be. Given the technological advancements in filming since the original films were made, especially in the area of special effects, the idea was to use the more advanced technology to tell new Star Wars stories, in ways that would have been difficult back in the early days of the saga. However, despite making use of the new technology, the films were received with mixed, if not poor, if not terrible reviews — even if by all accounts they were still largely financially successful, as they drew large audiences to see them.

A large portion of the new movie’s settings, vehicles, characters, and imagery in general were computer-generated, leading to the films losing much of the grounding factor lent by the practical effects of the original films. This, together with inconsistent writing and questionable choices in general, created movies that were perhaps visually entertaining and alluring, yet arguably holding less care for internal consistency, and for balancing real with imaginary, describing a fictional world that felt fantastical but not realistic, as opposed to the lived-in, rugged-and-worn feel the original movies managed to convey.

Battle of Coruscant, Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Many of the spaceships, robots, and technology in the new movies come across as elaborate, sleek and clean-looking, in many ways more “modern” than those featured in the initial films, despite those taking place after. The portrayal of the central love story between Anakin and Padmé comes short of building sufficient chemistry between the two to support their relationship. The original trilogy refers to Darth Vader as a once powerful and promising Jedi corrupted by the dark side, yet the character of Anakin for the most part comes across as trivial, bland, spoiled and childish. Story arcs and action scenes carry relatively little weight, with unclear and obtuse justifications given to conflicts, disputes, and events. The one villain with a reasonable and interesting combination of mystery, poise and skill, befitting such a role in the plot, is killed in an almost-but-not-quite-memorable action scene, with no one left to properly take his place. Across the three movies, there’s a general impression that it ‘doesn’t really matter what happens’, no matter how big or important the situation is. The audience is to draw excitement from the action and visuals alone, for their own sake.

There was an attempt to create another quirky alien character to remain close to the main characters — the now infamous Jar-Jar Binks. This character was entirely computer-generated, and as such would probably already feel artificial placed alongside live actors. But perhaps the most important aspect to it, was that the character was written mostly as a goofy, clumsy, simple-minded sidekick, constantly involved in physical-style comedy situations throughout the movie. Jar-Jar was meant almost solely as a comic relief, but holding virtually no redeeming qualities of any kind, and having no particularly relevant reason to continue involved in the story as it progressed. Yet he would somehow find himself not only involved but having significant influence in core plot points, such as taking part in a large battle in the first film; or playing a crucial role in the senatorial events (!) that placed evil Palpatine in charge in the third one. Jar-Jar read mostly as a literal cartoon that had been inserted into a live action movie, further contributing to, and perhaps being in itself a representation of, the throwing off balance of the movie’s tone, as well as diluting the perception of the stakes and meaning of the story.

The infamous Jar-Jar Binks

It’s fair to state the expectations for the prequels were astonishingly high, leading to the viewer be more easily be disappointed by them. But it’s also fair to say it was in good portion thanks to those same expectations, and loyalty to the franchise, that audiences kept coming to the theater, and kept the saga going. As such, I feel no particular necessity to relax my assessment of the prequels. As a moviegoer exposed to an experience, I only need to assess how I feel about it. A movie must care for its own quality, but it must also factor the way it's going to be received by the audience. And this includes factors such as the social and cultural moment in time - social standards and awareness, relevant social issues and themes, etc - as well as precious movies in the same saga, and similar ones, that preceded it. If you're going to create (or criticize) a movie in a saga, these elements must be factored in. They are an inexorable part of the audience's experience.

The fine balancing act between real and imaginary, and heavy and light, that had helped create the ‘magical’ effect in the original trilogy, was lost. Rather than a fresh updated take on the Star Wars saga, the three prequels came across as an exaggerated and visually saturated extravaganza, where it was more important to put up a spectacle rather than having things make sense. It was as if working around the restraints back in the 70s and 80s did better for the movies and their balance than what the creators could do with the more modern technology at their disposal. In fact, what most comes across in the three prequels is that there wasn’t proper observation for restraint when making them. Technology might have evolved, but there wasn’t much growth.

 

A New Hope

It's difficult to say for certain how much of a concerted effort there is by the owners and creators of the new trilogy to plan among themselves how the new movies are meant to turn out, and where the saga as a whole is headed. What’s mostly clear is that the new movies — and I’d perhaps also include here the standalone Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) - feel like they’re being written and directed by individuals who seem to be genuine Star Wars fans, i.e. who get the gist what made the original movies great and magical, and seem intended on restoring some of the lost respect and magic of the old movies — an effort that would have been, inevitably, influenced and motivated by how the modern prequels were made.

X-Wing fights Tie-Fighters at Takodana, Star Wars Episode 8: The Force Awakens (2015)

The first movie of the new trilogy, Star Wars Episode VII — The Force Awakens (2016) was plot-wise clearly reminiscent, at some points almost a repetition, of the plots of the original trilogy, perhaps especially of the first episode. So let's see: members of the Rebel Alliance with vital information are under attack by the Empire; the information is at the last minute placed into a droid sent to escape the attack; the help of a seemingly average and unsuspecting young adult, but soon-to-be-revealed Force-wielder, is enlisted; a daring escape from the planet is made aboard the Millenium Falcon, complete with a sequence battling TIE-Fighters; a meeting takes place in an exotic/underground bar; the Empire has a base/planet capable of destroying other planets, which it does; the Rebel Alliance needs to attack this base/planet, first infiltrating it with some of the main characters, then by attacking it directly with a starfighter assault; main characters have a lightsaber duel on the base/planet as it crumbles away, before escaping.

Although such plot repetition was noted and sometimes critiqued in reviews, what I believe is that it clearly transmits how the movies were being taken back to their roots by those making them. There was an attempt to re-establish a foundation, a solid footing, upon which further movies could carry from, not just story-wise but in terms of tone and balance as well. And this included an aspect of recovery, of getting back to elements of the original trilogy - even if it did reinstate many of the original basic plot premises, and thus incur in the risk of delving too much into the realm of repetition. But in retrospect, I think it was an appropriate and clever move, and, in a way, also a safe one. The prequels had already taken too many liberties, done too much to wander away from the saga's original magic... and created by none other than the saga's original author himself, making it all the more severe. Tackling this scenario was truly the most important challenge for this one movie. This was its heritage, its greatest burden to bear and overcome.

The movie had plenty of computer-generated special effects, but these were more judiciously used, without saturated tones and blending better with the environment. Balancing them out by was a healthy dose of practical effects, creatures, robots, props, and so on. The movie did take its risks to include new ideas or twists, such as Kylo’s guarded lightsaber, the main antagonist’s conflicted and complex attitude, new Force abilities like holding blaster shots mid-air, or the death of Han Solo. It also included minor nods to the original movies and more melodic subtleties, such as for example the tones in the sky during the meeting of Kylo and Han reflecting the inner emotional state of the former. But I feel such variations weren't thrown into the mix with a heavy hand; rather they were used with guarded (and sufficient in my mind) restraint, so as not to detract from the overall tone and balance of the movie, and especially its major, primary guideline: to be true to the feeling of the original movies.

Daisy Ridley (Rey) behind the scenes at Star Wars: The Force Awakens set

This was a big deal. While I don’t think the movie was beyond flaw or fault by any means, I do see it as being largely successful at getting back to the tone of the original trilogy, to a sufficient degree at least. In the scope described by the trajectory of the saga, this was in my view its major, and most vital, accomplishment.

 

The Actual Review

Now for The Last Jedi.

If the primary intention of the first sequel was to get back to the mojo of the original movies, the primary intention for this next one was, perhaps, to carry on with the process of maturation, growth, and updating of itself. To come from the relative success of “getting back on track” of the first movie, and start bringing ideas and the Universe itself up to speed, relative to how a modern-day audience would perceive such a sci-fi Universe.

Why “growth”? Simply because the passage of time demands it. Because otherwise you'd be just making the same movie over and over again. To make sure that the saga and its ideas remain relevant, poignant, fresh. And to ensure the legacy of Star Wars is respected and honored, not just regarding the movies of the past but hopefully those to come. Now, to try to update the Star Wars Universe, while keeping its balanced tone, and appealing to millions of witty and demanding fans, in the modern-day world, is nothing short of a massive undertaking. And this movie would have quite a lot of work left to do, as the prequels were completely clueless in that regard.

In my mind, the subversions throughout the movie were meant to address this. So without further ado, let’s get right on with them.

 

Subversion #1 — Cynical, Self-Analytical Jedi

The very first thing Luke Skywalker does as he’s handed his old lightsaber, in contrast with Rey's emotional and reverent gesture as she hands it over, is to casually and nonchalantly throw it over his shoulder as if rubbish. Designed to be a bit of a shock and surprise, some thought of this scene as too casual, cheesy, and maybe disrespectful. But symbolically, that was the point. It announced a bit of a change in perspective: openly rejecting, losing respect for, what was previously revered and important, placed beyond question.

The older Luke Skywalker is disillusioned with the whole idea of Force, the fight between good vs evil, and the Jedi’s themselves. While inexorably an integral part of it, he’s now highly skeptic and cynical about it as a whole. The Jedi, he says, are nothing but a fraud. They were supposed to be the most powerful group in the Universe, yet at the height of their power allowed a corrupt individual to take away their Republic under their very noses. They prevented nothing of what they were meant to achieve, and now they are all but gone.

Rey (Daisy Ridley) hands Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) his lightsaber in Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Through Luke’s perspective, we have a subversion of the whole image of the Jedi as a great big thing. It’s a shift from the more innocent and simplistic perspective that the good guys are always there to save the day in the end. What happened, and what the characters lived through in the past, matters to what they’re thinking today. There is character evolution, one that does make sense. There is logic to what Luke feels, and why. Finally someone in this story is actually exhibiting critical thinking, I thought. Quite the breath of fresh air.

This new perspective reflects a process of inner analysis and self-awareness of Luke’s character — but perhaps more importantly, also of the movies themselves.

Luke is voicing something I myself had thought, and had seen no one in the movies never openly speak about: that the Jedi, as a group, and in terms of "raw results" if you will, were not that great and left a lot to be desired — which to a great degree related a lot to the events described in the prequels. Here, it is of note that despite the poor writing and quality of the prequels, even if these were well written and had better quality, the core story would not be that much different: the Jedi were part of a Republic that eventually is corrupted by an evil character into becoming an Empire, largely eliminating them in the process. So even if the prequels didn’t didn't do a great job putting out the story, that doesn’t detract from the (fictional, lore and plot-wise) fact that the Jedi allowed dark energy so close to them plotting against them for so long and undetected. Or, for example, how they clearly perceived Anakin to be highly unstable and dangerous, yet still allowed him to be trained.

Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) in Star Wars: The Last Jedi

In a way, Luke’s critical thinking is also meant to reflect the audience’s own critical thinking, and the more astute and self-aware observations of the modern-day fan.

You tend to receive the most criticism, the most flak, when you’re not acknowledging a mistake, i.e. as long as you’re not learning from past mishaps and poor choices. But the moment you acknowledge that mistake or choice you made, out of your own process of reflection and on your own volition, and then you admit it openly and clearly to others — I made this and I regret it — you do tend to dissipate, disarm, diffuse, most of the charge of the criticism. Because, deep down, that’s what the process of learning in life is about. It’s often not so much about the mistakes themselves, but the ability to learn from them. This is what Luke is doing here. He’s not just admitting problems of the Jedi in a process of self-reflection: he’s also indirectly showing the audience that the movies themselves, and to an extent those at the helm, are self-aware of the past mishaps in the franchise, this mostly referring to how the prequels were handled in general, but here, more specifically, the manner how it was portrayed the Jedi being overcome by their enemy.

Mistakes were made. This is what Luke is, angrily, saying to the audience.

 

Some Criticism:

I’m unsure of just how much sense it makes for Jedi who fail at their missions, to seclude themselves in a remote planet and do nothing forever after, at least as an unspoken rule (Yoda had done it also).

It does make sense, and is consistent with the story, that Jedi (plural), honorable and with a deep connection to the unseen energy binding all of the Universe, would deeply feel and be impacted by their own lapses in judgment, by the crumbling of their order, and by personal choices that led to great negative consequence. In such circumstances, it would be understandable for them to want to withdraw, remove themselves from the game, so as to ponder and reflect about what happened, what they did and why, and where they failed. Or, if nothing else, to save face, to try to protect what image of integrity they have left, and show how deeply they acknowledge their shortcomings - since honor and integrity, given the sharp light/dark thematic in this Universe, as well as their role as symbols for the Rebel Alliance, are so fundamental to them and to the story.

My take on this matter is that Luke's meant to be portrayed as someone whose hope has left him irrevocably, putting him in a most difficult position for a Jedi. This is the true cornerstone for this movie, and it is what's ultimately driving his actions as a character. This is another subversion because you'd expect in a typical plot for the outcast Hero to be sooner or later convinced or coerced by others to come out of hiding to help, thus having an opportunity at redemption. Luke does change his mind somewhat but only in the very last part of the movie, where he projects an image of himself across the Universe using the Force to help his friends, which I'll address more at depth in Part II.

However, I'm ambivalent whether the movies, in general, manage to provide solid enough justification to support Luke’s choice (and even Yoda’s for that matter) of retreating to a remote location indefinitely, and make so difficult for anyone to find them. Mark Hamill spoke about this writing choice when he said on a personal note he didn’t agree with the course they went with his character: my Luke Skywalker would never have given up. What this means, is that Luke’s choice to seclude himself, while understandable given what he lived through and what the character is struggling with within, might still come across as being perhaps a bit harsh and extreme, certainly questionable to some extent.

In any case, the major issue with doing anything differently with this was probably the precedent established by previous movies. Yoda had made the same choice — live as a hermit in a secluded planet — given the events he participated in, showcased in the prequels. That choice was the reference Luke had from his own Master, and as such, it is valid and consistent, even if somewhat precarious, for Luke to do the same thing. So it was a difficult but perhaps necessary choice for the screenwriters to put Luke in this position. Had they chose to do anything differently, I think they would risk a little bit too much going straight against the ethos/canon of the Star Wars saga itself, which could hypothetically have even more serious consequences.

 

Subversion #2 — Reckless Behavior and Implausible Risk-Taking

The Precedents:

Perhaps being notorious the most in the original three episodes, the middling serious/light tone of the saga would often dictate that in order for an hopelessly outnumbered and desperate Rebel Alliance have any chance of beating back the mighty Empire, some sort of heroic, against-all-odds, David against Goliath daredevil strategy would have to be employed… and that strategy would usually work, in some way.

In A New Hope, as the heroes are brought into the Death Star they manage to evade the ship’s entire contingent of troops by disguising themselves as enemy troopers, rescue Leia, and eventually escape (albeit with the loss of Obi-Wan at the hands of Vader). Later the Rebels would manage to destroy the Death Star itself by launching a daring fighter attack against the entire defenses of the moon-sized base, and they succeed in destroying it as Luke shoots an exhaust port, even if taking heavy losses.

In Empire Strikes Back, a small group of lighter craft manages to fight off the Empire’s heavy walker vehicles and assault troops, giving most of the Rebels time to escape their base. In The Return of the Jedi, Jabba the Hut’s lair is infiltrated by the protagonists to rescue Han, and although said infiltration doesn’t succeed at first, at the last possible minute R2D2 throws Luke his lightsaber, enabling them to fight and escape. Later in the Rebels would launch another daring attack on the new Death Star — coupled with a ground assault in a planet involving the aforementioned battle with the support of Ewoks — upon which they execute a daring starship raid through the base’s innards, destroying it by shooting at its core.

Attack on the core of the second Death Star, Return of the Jedi (1983)

In Episode VII — The Force Awakens (2015), as stated some of these elements repeat. For instance, Finn, Han and Chewbacca, using the Millennium Falcon, sneak into Starkiller Base (a.k.a. Death Star #3) to rescue Rey and disable the shield protecting the planet/base, so the Rebels can attack it. Despite this plan not quite working at first (when the shield is initially disabled the ensuing Rebel attack is thwarted) eventually the heroes manage to plant explosives that destroy the shield generator, allowing the Rebels to then execute a decisive, daring starship raid at the base’s innards, destroying it by shooting at its core.

Also, in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story — which, while not part of any trilogy, works essentially as a standalone, modern-day Star Wars movie that arguably stays more or less true to the vibe of the saga — closer to the end of the film the protagonist leads a small squad in a rogue mission, against the direct orders of her superiors, to retrieve the Death Star’s plans from an Imperial base on a planet. Upon arrival at said base aboard a stolen Imperial ship, and using a diversionary attack intended as a distraction, the main characters proceed to disguise themselves as enemy soldiers and venture within the base, to where the information is kept. Despite eventually being discovered and surrounded, and with the loss of the droid K-2SO (and ultimately, spoilers, of everyone), they do succeed at their objective.

Rebels disguised as Imperials, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Star Wars always remained more or less true the ethos of a Rebel(lious) Alliance. The heroes would usually be awarded for a maverick attitude and for engaging in daredevil tactics that, while risk-laden and often implausible and unlikely to succeed on paper, would nevertheless always work out, or at least pay off, in the end, with casualties and losses being more or less overlooked for the sake of the greater good.

 

Case #1: Last-Ditch Attack on the Empire… Because?

So now we get to The Last Jedi. The movie practically begins with a sequence where a lone Rebel X-Wing, piloted by Poe — who in the sequels arguably personifies the most the stereotype of the good-natured maverick — faces off against an entire Imperial fleet, essentially taunting their commander through the intercom, all in order to buy time for the rebels to hastily evacuate their base on a planet. The rebels do complete the evacuation, however Poe at this point wants to take advantage of the unique opportunity to destroy one of the larger enemy capitals ships, quite the juicy prize, and decides, on the fly and on his own, to push forward with his X-Wing to take out the anti-fighter laser defenses of the enemy capital ship. His idea is that the Rebel bombers are then afforded the opportunity to approach the ship and take it out. He hastily communicates the idea to Leia, who’s commanding the Rebel force aboard their flagship. Leia’s hand is more or less forced here. In order to not let her best/star pilot risk his life for nothing, and also agreeing with him, she concedes. She holds the escape for a moment, and orders the bomber wing, along with fighters, to launch an impromptu attack.

The movie then presents us with a sequence worthy of the exciting space fights the saga presented in the past. In the most daredevil manner possible, Poe swings and swerves his X-Wing through a wail of flak and a host of enemy ships, managing to hit and destroy the point defense cannons of the enemy capital ship, all on his own. He’s hit once by an enemy laser with disables his firing mechanisms temporarily; but, reminiscent of what R2 did aboard Luke’s X-Wing, Poe’s droid, BB-8, resolves the situation in the last moment by plugging the gaps in a circuitry board, with its own head. Apart from losses, the action is quick-paced and lighthearted.

BB-8 the droid aboard Poe's X-Wing fighter, Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Then, a group of bulky and slowly-moving Rebel bombers approaches the enemy ship. There’s a moment of uncertainty, where bombers and fighters on the Rebel side are outnumbered and being taken out, getting dangerously close to not being able to fulfill their mission, until only one last bomber remains, who now has the onus of delivering its payload to destroy the ship. There’s even some attention given to drama and confusion aboard the bomber, but one of its crew members manages at the last second to press the trigger and drop the bombs. The detonation blast takes out the bomber itself along with its heroic crew member, but the ship is finally taken out. The remaining Rebel ships return victoriously to their fleet to escape.

Up to this point, all of this remains fairly true to the general theme and tone of the Star Wars movies. The Rebels put a valiant effort, and despite losses and drawbacks, they heroically beat the odds. The subversion happens the moment when, in the middle of the congratulatory period as the fighters return and the Rebels celebrate, Leia looks at a monitor, showing that most of the Rebel fighters, including all of the bombers and their crew, had been lost. Her expression is a mix of relief and celebration, pervaded by sorrow and loss, heavy, insolvable, unavoidable. Without saying a word, through acting alone, she ponders and asks if it was really worthy; what was the cost to pay? And so the audience is invited to deliberate on it as well.

General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher) in The Last Jedi

This exact moment is the very first instance in a Star Wars film (that I am aware of) where it’s suggested that the daredevil, maverick, spontaneous move may not have been the right one. It was at best a “Pyrrhic” victory, that is to say, many lives were lost to eliminate one enemy ship, and all because of the impulsive and unrestrained decision of someone not in command, arguably putting his own ideas and priorities above the value of the lives of his own colleagues and friends. On top of that, this convoy of ships and crew leaving this planet are all the Rebels have. They are down to the very last ships and personnel. They're on their last feet. All the while the Empire controls the majority of the Galaxy, likely having endless resources, ships and crew at their disposal. So by all accounts, the opportunity to take out a capital ship wasn’t that significant to begin with, especially at the cost of most of their last remaining assets.

And just to strike this one home, another Imperial capital ship, exactly alike to the one who had just been destroyed, suddenly jumps out of hyperspace onto the exact same space where the other one stood. Ouch (this was no other than the big bad’s main capital ship).

I’m not advocating for subservience and mindless obedience to tyrannical authority - nor do I want to discourage thinking outside the box. The subversion here is not so much about the spectrum of rebelliousness vs obedience, rather it's about a shift in tone of the story: going from a goofy, lighthearted and less “serious” one, to one where stakes matter and choices have consequences. It's a more serious tone, closer to a real-life perspective (even though it’s science fiction), in contrast with the idea of the good guys always saving the day and going home to celebrate, implausible plans always working out no matter the odds, and life-threatening risks being more or less treated lightly. Leia began referring to this by saying that to deal with problems Poe would just prefer hopping into his X-Wing and “blow stuff up”.

 

Case #2: Authority Figure vs The Maverick

Midway through the movie you're presented with the conundrum driving forward the second and third acts: the last few Rebel ships are being chased by the Imperial fleet while running out of fuel and unable to jump away, because they'll still be tracked by the Imperials even if they do so. All the Rebels can do is simply continue flying, keeping their distance to the chasing Imperial ships, and during that stalemate, while they have fuel left, devise some kind of plan to save themselves.

During this period Poe clashes with the main figure of authority, Vice Admiral Holdo, now in charge of the Rebel fleet following Leia's injuries. Introduced by the movie with an attitude of apparent inability to react and pessimistic resignation to their fate, Holdo appears fearful, willing to let their time run out without taking any measures at all. This creates tension with Poe and what he represents as a character: initiative, resolve, courage, and risk-taking, no matter the odds. When Poe fails to get to Holdo, Poe, Finn and Rose, without knowledge or consent of their superiors, devise another longshot-style, highly risky plan to disable the Hyperspace tracking device on the main Imperial ship, in theory giving the Rebels a window of opportunity to safely jump away.

Regarding the tension between Holdo and Poe, by all accounts the movie has you believe Holdo is the bad person of the two, assuming a stance of total inaction and passivity, more concerned about keeping with appearances rather than risking taking action, and being willing to let their fuel run out and wait for the Rebels to meet their doom. In turn, Poe is the revolted but fair-hearted maverick, who'll need to take things into his own hands and be the one to save the day, with yet another risky plan. Historically Star Wars had presented us with figures of authority - even on the good side - sometimes more as a clueless or apathetic blockages to the resolution of problems, rather than breathing and thinking deciders with stakes to match, often functioning as plot excuses to give the more courageous minnows reason to intervene and save the day.

Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo

So while Finn and Rose are away seeking a "code breaker" who'd allow them to sneak into the Imperial ship and disable the tracking device, the tension between Poe and Holdo aboard the Rebel main ship is escalating. As time goes on and desperation grows, Holdo's insistence in not listening to Poe prompts him to eventually rise up and create a mutiny, where he challenges Holdo and those loyal to her with a few like-minded people at his side. This moment initially feels like a success, with Poe finally breaking through the resistance of the inane leader. It looks like the maverick will once again rise to save the day.

As events unfold Poe seals himself in the ship's bridge, while those still loyal to Holdo outside the door trying to break in. Poe is holding out, hoping to buy Finn and Rose time to fulfill their mission and prove to be successful at the last minute. The loyalists break down the door… with a healed Leia, friend and supportive of Poe, standing on the other side. At this instant the movie is still following "due" course: it seems Poe held out for long enough, and his intentions are now going to be vindicated by Leia. Then, she fires her gun to stun and disable him.

The movie reveals that the leadership, Leia and Holdo, had a plan all along. They wanted to use their remaining fuel to reach a getaway planet used by the Rebels, planet Crait, and evacuate there without being detected by the Empire, a plan Leia had authorized. And Leia and Holdo had intentionally kept the plan secret, in part and precisely, because Poe had a history of being insubordinate and could jeopardize it had he known of it. Ultimately this doesn't go entirely to plan, as the escaping Rebel craft trying to evacuate are detected and start being shot down by the Empire during the evacuation (how difficult it would be for the Empire to detect smaller craft evacuating the rebel bigger ships? How did DJ knew about the evacuation plans if not even Finn and Rose knew about them?).

Still, this is a very significant reversal of the typical trope of the rebel maverick saving the say. In fact, it is the opposite. The maverick, despite having good intentions, ends up as being depicted as less of a Hero and more as being just that: a maverick, who instigated a mutiny and worked against the designations of his superiors, who had all along a carefully devised plan, with the best intentions and well being of their subordinates in mind. This time, the movie stands in the corner of the figures of leadership, giving them depth, logic, a benevolent and caring nature, and a will of their own, rather than using them according to what the plot commands. Holdo's last act in the movie is sacrificing herself by flying the Rebel's capital ship on her own at light-speed onto the Empire's fleet, ramming the Empire's flagship and destroying its own ship in the process, thus finalizing the portrayal of the character as genuinely selfless and heroic.

Admiral Holdo's hyperspace collision

 

Some Criticism:

In an universe with highly intelligent robots edging on full-blown sentience, and where we've already established droids are fully capable of flying ships, I find it jarring and difficult to buy into the necessity of having to have a living person - let alone a member of the leadership - be left behind onboard the ship to fly it. This comes across as a plot device meant only to have Holdo sacrifice herself and complete the subversion.

An extra word about the concept of hyperspacing into others. While perfectly logical, groundbreaking, and cool-looking, this is nonetheless a risky proposition to add to the universe, because now anyone piloting a ship of considerable size could, in theory, take out much bigger enemy ships for a fraction of the cost. And if they can but choose not to, you're going to have trouble justifying it now that you've added it as a possibility.

This being said, beautiful scene.

Case #3: Sneaking into an Enemy Base/Ship

Let us now go over the Poe, Finn and Rose's plan to save the day.

This plan consisted in, first, detaching from the main Rebel fleet and jump to hyperspace in a smaller vessel to a place called Canto Blight, where they were told by Maz Kanata - herself in the middle of a fight fairly light in tone - to find a "master codebreaker", who they could recognize by a symbol he would be wearing on his clothes. Then, they would need to return with this person to the "main scene" if you were, infiltrate the New Order's capital ship chasing the Rebel fleet, and break onto the Tracker disabling it, which would allow the Rebel fleet to jump away to safety.

This subversion relies on the large number of variables and imponderables taking this plan from the realms of risky onto those of implausibility. Many things had to align for this to work, such as for example: relying on the code breaker not feeling sick or unwell on that day, or, not happen to decide to spent his day, and at that hour of the day, somewhere else besides the casino; him wearing his symbol clearly and openly, not having a random piece of clothing covering it, or forgetting about it in his bedroom; Finn and Rose being able to convince him to help them out (which they couldn't as they were arrested by parking their ship in a beach, a mini-subversion there), then randomly (by the Force?) finding someone just as adept at code-breaking in the jail they were in; then, being able to sneak into an Imperial capital ship undetected without a previously worked out plan; then, disguising themselves as Empire soldiers seamlessly, find the tracking device in a huge capital ship, and deactivate it.

In a military setting, how viable would it be to sneak into a high tech enemy base the size of a city or larger, without much prior training or intel, pose as an enemy soldier or officer without anyone noticing, and reliably base the success of your mission on that expectation? Realistically speaking, this would likely incur in a blatant, massive risk of being captured, and being forced to reveal critical intel to the enemy, among worse possibilities. Doing this stunt under these circumstances once would have already been exceedingly risky; but doing it over and over, and expecting the audience to buy into it at face value, is unrealistic and does nothing but portray the villains as idiots. You can track a spaceship through hyperspace; you can blast planets out of space; but you can't use scan systems on doors, bio-checks, or ID cards with pictures on them, aboard your stations and ships, to at least try to detect or deter infiltrations like this.

Nothing fishy about this.

This is the discrepancy explored by this subversion, which is essentially another way of shifting the movie's tone to a more realistic one. The plan seems to almost succeed as they're about to reach the device, however, at that point, the movie suddenly follows the path of least resistance, and makes what's most likely to happen, actually happen: the Rebels are recognized and captured. Not because someone tipped the Imperials; not because they're wearing uniforms with flip-flops; simply because they were recognized as not belonging there (by a droid). With this part, the movie directly and purposely subverts the enemy-ship-infiltration trope, and ventures into a more realistic take on the situation, with the characters going into the third and final act facing execution, and betrayed by a character they've just met and had no real motivation to support them. This time, magic luck is less of a factor, and instead, the things that could go wrong, actually go wrong.

Criticism:

Regarding the stalemate between the Imperial and Rebel fleets, many things here do make sense. In space, ships have to spend fuel to accelerate or decelerate, but not to maintain a constant speed. So it is not only conceivable but quite realistic to have one set of ships pushing after another, and a situation such as this arise if the ships being chased are trying to get away, but are short on fuel and can't jump to safety.

Rebel spaceships get destroyed by the Empire as they're running out of fuel

However, what the setup as a whole did feel at first glance, was a bit contrived. In other words, put into place to give a sense of tension, time ticking down, while still allowing the heroes to go through certain experiences and propel the story forward. What probably ended up reinforcing this perception, was the choice of having Finn and Rose, from this set of circumstances, take a smaller ship and spend any significant amount of time somewhere else in the Galaxy. It felt like the phone booth in Dr. Who: something you'd logically expect to be small on the outside, but is way bigger when you go into it. Its pace and length transmitted less urgency that the situation it came from, and so it didn't mesh very well with it. It could also inadvertently loosen the perception of depth regarding distances traveled in the Galaxy. Did Cantonica happen to be close to where the chasing was taking place? If not, can hyperspace travel take you anywhere on the Galaxy and back in such a short span of time? If traveling around is indeed that straightforward, the premise of Luke Skywalker being hidden in a remote part of the Galaxy becomes less understandable.

This is a bit like Game of Thrones breaking all bird flight records by having a supersonic raven fly the entire length of the continent in one day. That's not to say the timelines are outright impossible, or that there's no reason for things happening how they're shown. Maybe the stalemate between the ships lasted for many days; maybe Canto Blight was just around the corner; maybe the raven took more time, with just the sped-up storytelling making it look like a day. But what matters most, is probably not if things could happen, but how the audience is able to understand what you're saying.

Game of Throne's supersonic raven.

Case #4: Odds Matter

A final addition on the topic of this subversion.

Star Wars tended to have you root for lost causes, with the Rebels almost always fighting outnumbered, out-teched, and out-resourced. The movie first subverts this in its first big battle, having Poe's maverick attitude result in heavy losses to the Rebels for next to no gain, for the first time supporting the idea it's not always wise to push forward with the odds stacked against you. But when this is truly hammered home is in the movie's third act, in the land battle at Crait, when a handful of old, badly maintained (i.e. falling apart) lighter speeders are launched against a wall of advancing imperial AT walkers, a vision somewhat reminiscent of the battle of Hoth in Episode V.

Here, however, despite the habitual courageous attitude of the Rebels and their willingness to throw themselves at the enemy, the reality of the odds is reflected in what takes place: the tiny speeders stand no chance against the bigger craft, who proceed to obliterate them with ease.

Some Criticism:

As the Rebel speeders are about to be finished off, Finn comes close to sacrificing himself by pondering driving his speeder into the primary target and danger to the Rebels, a cannon able to shoot down the doors of their base, the only reliable way for the Imperials to break down the door of the base. While I'm not advocating for either saving or sacrificing Finn, I do feel that if he had succeeded in doing so, that would at least provide some form of meaning to the Rebels' Hail Mary speeder charge. However, before he's able to do so, Rose bumps into him, thereby saving him, and they both have a moment on the salt plains as the Imperials advance on the base, where they kiss and Rose says to Finn they're "not going to win by fighting what they hate, but by saving what they love".

Finn and Rose in Crait's Salt Plains

This message may or may not relate to the shift in perspective the movie is trying to perform. In that sense it could mean something along the lines of, "let's not throw our lives away, each life matters, let's instead try to act intelligently and meaningfully". If that's the case, then the scene was perhaps meant as a sort of a moral summary for the movie, or at least one of them. However, there were a number of problems that completely undermined its purpose.

First and foremost, there's little emotional affinity between Rose and Finn throughout the movie that's able to support the moment and the kiss as being believable or justifiable, no matter how you try to look at it - loving, romantic, friendly, kind, cute, sweet, etc. So the scene lost nearly all of its meaning on that one aspect alone. Secondly, Rose's message simply can't be easily connected with the rest of the movie. Was there any setup to this subject matter, and if so, where? Is this about avoiding confrontation if the odds are against you? The message was obscure and didn't connect.

Finally, if Finn had successfully driven his vehicle onto the cannon and destroyed it, then at least the last-ditch valiant effort of the Rebels, with lives and equipment lost, wouldn't have been for nothing. As it stands, however, it becomes the opposite: Rose saving Finn makes the Rebels' sacrifice completely pointless. Because of this, her choice and moral input not only come across as vague and ungrounded, but as hypocritical. She saves Finn because his life is important to her, but does that mean the lives of all the others were thrown away for nothing? What inadvertently comes across in this moment is, ironically, the precise inverse of Rose's intended message.

Rose's saving grace, often and easily forgotten here, is the loss of her sister in the movie's first space fight, now motivating her to save someone who's dear to her, her hero Finn, instead of allowing yet another potentially unnecessary sacrifice. This is a perfectly logic and legitimate motivation. What, in my opinion, is undermining this scene from working and succeeding at getting its message across, is, ultimately, the lack of connection between Rose and Finn.

 

Subversion #3 - The Projected Image of the Hero

The final battle of the movie culminates in a 1-on-1, much-anticipated fight between Luke and Kylo. Later in this fight we realize Luke isn't really there: he's using the Force to project what's essentially a hologram of himself, in order to ultimately buy time for the remaining Rebels to flee aboard the Millennium Falcon. The image Luke projects happens to be how Kylo likely remembered Luke when he trained him: better groomed, younger-looking, and generally standing proud and determined, a memory of Luke "in his prime" if you will - a time when he believed and cared for the Jedi cause, when he was committed and willing to put in the effort, before he decided to retreat into isolation. This same image is also how the audience would expect Luke to appear in that situation.

Luke Skywalker on Crait

What the movie is playing with is not just about deceiving Kylo, but through Kylo's character with the audience's expectations of Luke. This is achieved by the movie in a cleverly thought out and elaborate manner.

The audience is expecting Luke to make a Hero's appearance at the end, rejuvenated and ready to fight the big bad. That's what they see when Luke's back in his former glory as he appears. And for a while, the movie doesn't let you know Luke isn't really there, only revealing it to the viewer at the same time Kylo realizes it as well. Small hints and details do foreshadow this, if you pay close attention and you're a massive Star Wars geek (also inviting you to go back and see it again if you missed it, like a mini "6th Sense moment"). For example, Luke's using his original lightsaber, however, this same lightsaber was broken by Kylo and Rey in their battle a little while before. Luke also doesn't make footsteps on the salt ground (which when stirred reveal a red-ish mark on the otherwise white surface), he only steps over already existing footsteps so as to not reveal his projection.

The audience expects Luke to come back to the fore, to the Force, and save the day. But the harsh truth, the reality, is different: Luke is disheartened beyond "repair". He fought, he's given all he had, and he lost. Luke no longer has the energy, and the time left, to retrace his steps and make amends, literally and figuratively, much like he can no longer physically reach the Rebels in time, only project there to give them a chance. He's only able to muster enough of a compassionate willingness to help, in one last hurrah, perhaps not so much to save the Rebel Resistance, or to save the Jedi, or to defeat the Empire, but essentially to rescue his loved ones and friends from a very dark place, and give them a fighting chance. In the end, reality hits home: Luke had used all his strength left to execute the projection, and when the process is over he dies, fading away into the Force. He receives a Hero's farewell.

Luke Skywalker's final moment.

The subversion is about breaking through the mold of what the audience expects the idealized, projected image of a movie Hero to be. The movie had already performed that subversion with Finn and Rose, with the latter initially idolyzing the former as a hero, then realizing he was trying to escape their ship and stunning him. With Luke, the movie achieves this with a literal projection.

The movie Hero, and the Star Wars Hero, used to be someone perfectly strong, perfectly hopeful, perfectly eternal, and perfectly able to connect with the right answer when needed. He might have had flaws of some sort, but these flaws were, at most, flavor, and/or steps towards the path of atonement. In the end, the Hero would be able to love, be able to care, be able to see the Light, and come to the rescue no matter what.

Here, Luke is not that. Luke is just a normal person, who is now hopeless. He's disappointed and disillusioned. It could be argued his whole life was more of a failure than anything. If nothing else, that's how he feels. He kept fighting, he gave his best, but the Empire and the Dark Side just kept gaining ground, in a way he couldn't fight against. In the end, he ended up physically isolated and unsupported, which is also how he felt emotionally. The audience is first presented with Luke's deep lifelong struggle, then the movie continually teases his return, his rejuvenation, his rehabilitation, with us resting our own hope in Luke's shoulders, himself representing hope: hope he will return to the Light once more, in all his glory, to save the day.

In the end this does happen - but not as we expected. The Luke of old was back, but only for the briefest moment. He gave his friends, his foes, and us the audience, the memory we expected of him and rested our hopes upon, just enough for us to carry the saga forward. But that memory was just that: a memory. The image was just that: an image. Like movie magic, it was a manufactured illusion projected with a purpose, but one that didn't match the actual reality, both external and internal. The truth was that Luke had irrevocably lost hope in the system, and in the Force, that as a mythical Hero and leader he was expected to have - but he couldn't show that, neither to his friends nor to his foes. Hence the external projection of what others expected to see. Not because of the hope he felt, but for the sake of those he loved. Not because of what he truly believed in, but from what he knew he represented to others. In my mind this was brilliantly executed, and the highlight of the movie.

In the end, Luke was a Hero that wasn't perfect. He was more of a regular person, with regular struggles, and carrying a huge burden on his shoulders. But he was nonetheless capable of being the Hero who was needed at that moment.

 

Subversion #4: What Star Wars Characters Entail

In a way this is a continuation of #3.

The movie uses various moments to pierce through the veil of traditional views on main characters in Star Wars, both Heroes and Villains. One of the earliest is a rejection of the notion of the big bad wearing a scary helmet. This came none other than from Snoke himself, as he says to Kylo Ren "take that ridiculous thing off". This specific line was a bit of a validation to me, as I'm probably the only person left on this planet that thinks Darth Vader's helmet... looked a bit... silly… *whistles away*.

Kylo Ren looking at his helmet.

Another one of those moments was, of course, Kylo addressing Rey's parents.

The original Star Wars trilogy was a saga revolving around a group of people with connections to the Force but also connected with each other through familiar bonds, being some of the main points of the saga revealing to the characters those family ties. Plus, every character of sufficient relevance tended to be fairly well developed, with their backgrounds tying in with the rest of the story as a whole, in some way. The development of the Star Wars episodes largely went about portraying known characters at various points in time, or, deepening stories mentioned in another movie.

As such, it would be by now habitual to assume that when a character is of importance or has an affinity with the Force, then surely there must be some meaning to the person's parents and background. The matter of Rey's parents was, in fact, subject of much speculation prior to the movie, for those who take the time to dabble with these things. Perhaps to play around the speculation, perhaps simply to counter this expectation, the movie subverts this at two points. First, it has Rey venture into a Dark Side hole (was there any reason for danger?) to find out more about her parents, but discovering only reflections of herself - somewhat reminiscent of the scene of Luke fighting a Darth Vader figure revealing his own face behind the mask.

Rey looking at her own reflection.

The second instance is the aforementioned moment where Kylo tells Rey he knows who her parents were (which more or less comes out of the blue, but alright), and that these were of no particular significance, just plain folk who sold her into slavery for drinking money (who therefore and obviously didn't love her) and who are now dead. Rey's expectations towards her parents reflect the audience's own expectations about the same subject, and so does the character's deflation as she hears this.

Now, it remains true that just because Kylo Ren says this, doesn't by any means constitute proof of the validity of it. In fact, the movie presented no special reasoning behind Kylo knowing this information, other than perhaps the Force channel between him and Rey. What this means in practice, is that the screenwriters in the future can, or could, choose to go anywhere with this - or not. I think they felt free to throw this in without fear of overly committing to it as truth set in stone. Still, the intent for this remains to consistently challenge the audience's expectations of what a Star Wars movie should be like.

Finally, in what to me was perhaps the big "here's to your expectations" moment in terms of screenwriting for this movie, the big baddy behind it all, Supreme Leader Snoke, the character in this trilogy serving as the equivalent of Emperor Palpatine in the original, gets swiftly disposed by his trainee Kylo Ren, turning the corresponding climatic point in the film into a battle between Kyle plus Rey against Snoke's guards, then a confrontation between Kyle and Rey.

Kylo and Rey fighting Snoke's guards in his throne room.

Snoke's character had started off reasonably close the Emperor of old, working almost as if behind the scenes, presented as 'the evil behind it all'. In the first movie he'd been shown, via hologram, to be the Sith Lord training Kylo; and in this movie he'd been behind Kylo and Rey's Force distance connection the whole time, his intention to bring Rey close to them, and either convert her into the Dark Side or eliminate her as Kylo's fodder. The movie seemed to be going in the direction of showing Snoke as an all-powerful, all-seeing evil force with insurmountable power and resources, who will manipulate and trample over whoever he pleases. And just like that, without him being able to see through his trainee's intentions, he's cut in half by Kylo. He had barely seen screen time, and now he was gone. Kylo did foreshadow this by saying "let the past die, kill it if you have to". And so he (Kylo) did; and so they (the screenwriters) did.

 

Comments:

If any of these things took place in a regular standalone movie, you'd look at them and maybe ask "wait, why is this bit here? What was that character for?" But as stated, a Star Wars movie just cannot be taken on its own. You have to consider not just the previous stories, ethos, and universe created by other movies, but also the expectations of the audience as they're watching it, and in a sense and without too much of an exaggeration, the expectations of the world when receiving a new Star Wars movie. And these plot choices, much like the rest of the subversions explored here, are a way to address, in some way, the expectations of the audience of what a Star Wars movie should look like.

Granted, some of these can come across as a bit on the nose. Fans may feel you're taking things that are sacred for them just for sport. In a way I understand where that comes from because I could imagine a bit of a sassy, defying attitude to them. Now we don't need an invincible big bad; now we don't need a helmet; now we don't need a maverick. We'll now move forward, whether you like it or not. Is this good or bad? Regardless of how you see it, it's definitely a thin and dangerous line to be walking on.

To me, these choices are risky but they do have worth. They feel considerably thought out, are definitely ballsy and courageous, and were made to address, meet, but play around with, your expectations. Which means the audience's expectations were listened to and addressed rather than ignored, and in a manner that had considerate thought and dedication poured into it. The overall purpose of these choices was to try to detach the movies from what you expect from them, while at the same time staying true to the ethos of the saga, and also remaining interesting in their own right. But did the movie succeed at doing this?

Supreme Leader Snoke's moment of misfortune.

I'd like to think the saga is being directed with some degree of intention in the background, with a certain destination in mind. At least I hope. If not aimed at complete closure (probably bad for business…) at least some way to breach the endless light-vs-dark conflict and bring it into some new level, or a different way of understanding, instead of falling into a repetition of the same basic elements over and over. Otherwise, the saga's just a constant loop of the same story, only scaling things up (i.e. Death Star, bigger Death Star, planet Death Star, ad eternum). So in that sense, taking old things out to vacate space for new things is, in principle, a good idea. Now, it's up to the next movie, and future installments of the saga, to see if these changes were indeed worthwhile.

 

Subversion #5: Beyond the Wars in Star Wars

This is perhaps a minute detail in the movie. However, I felt it was actually quite essential and worthy of adding it here.

As Finn and Rose are traveling back with DJ to infiltrate the Imperial convoy chasing the Rebels, they find ship schematics stored in the computer of the ship they're flying in. Apparently, this ship, which had been commandeered by DJ, belonged to a weapons dealer in Canto Blight. In the movie, Canto Blight was presented as a symbol for a wealthy, opulent and decadent living made at the expense of the suffering of others, slavery, inequality, mistreatment of animals, and so forth. According to DJ, Canto Blight is home to many war profiteers who profit from selling weapons and designs to both sides of the war.

In my mind, not only is this not an insignificant detail but might very well be an indicator the movies may be scouting their way ahead to breach beyond the endless loop. Star Wars movies in the past have only ever addressed the conflict as a black and white, deadly dispute between total good and total evil. And that's not to say there are "positive aspects to the bad", or that there are "fine people on both sides". Don't get me wrong. In Star Wars, good is good, and bad is bad. My point, instead, is the following.

Real life wars often have background interests that profit from the war in some way. These usually are, for the most part, third parties and companies manufacturing weapons, fuel, etc, and all those who profit from them and from their success, directly or indirectly. While most wars indeed have two sides with some type of conflict - moral, religious, monetary, land, natural resources, etc - what happens is that, in situations that already are delicate and touchy by nature, and would require a careful touch and wisdom to navigate, such hidden interests will exert pull and influence that in critical instances may just be enough to make the scale pend towards war. So if you allow these interests into the equation, chances are you're going to have war even in situations where war could be avoided and the dispute could be resolved in a less violent manner instead. In other words, such interests can easily act as a catalyst for war taking place, i.e. they make war happen even if otherwise it didn't have to. Those catalysts are malevolent, because they don't particularly care which side wins, they're mostly interested in the war itself being waged for the sake of their own profit, and regardless of the deeply negative consequence and suffering caused to others.

DJ with Finn and BB-8 showing TIE-Fighter schematics

Someone looking at this detail could easily dismiss it as an attempt to push some generic moralist narrative about how war is evil, how wars are funded, etc. However, it's a bit more important than that. When the movie reveals there are certain hidden interests profiting from the war between Rebels and Imperials, to my knowledge it is the first time the saga refers to the existence of third parties of influence not affiliated with either side, but still with an ongoing invested interest in the war. It's the first time it's shown how the people behind the designs of X-Wings are the same as those behind those of TIE Fighters. It's the first time a Star Wars movie takes your awareness above the plane of good versus evil. The message is not as simple sounding as "some profiteers live in there and are rich". The movie invests quite a lot of time in Canto Blight, depicting it as a symbol for wealth gained at the expense of the suffering of others. While not in a very explicit and committed manner, I'm hoping this could be a first attempt or setup in exploring beyond the need for the war itself, thus putting it into question. Usually, when you're willing to confront and remove the hidden interests festering in the dark invested in financing wars, that's when the war has a chance of coming to an end.

Or, it could just be nothing.

 

Final Thoughts

I think this movie is a solid addition to the Star Wars Universe. I see it as if coming from within an environment of hugely intense pressure, scrutiny, and expectations, and still come out being able to honor its legacy, break the mold of the expectations hovering over it in creative and innovative ways, and still have a solid identity, a distinctive story, and a message of its own. Considering all the weight over its shoulders, I'm left thinking just how much better it could have really been. The Last Jedi made me feel a lot of respect for those who invested their time to write and make it. The Force Awakens was a nod to the original trilogy and its general vibe. With it, their creators said, "don't worry, we know what Star Wars is really like, and we're returning to it". With The Last Jedi, they said, "now we'll need to take this in a new direction". To do that, they knew they needed to touch on some very sensitive things, and they did so courageously.

I don't think The Last Jedi managed to touch the same sense of pure magic, wonder, and fantasy of the original trilogy, which I think is what many people are trying to connect with in every new Star Wars film. But, I'd like to moderate that expectation, because I'm not sure if we're meant to place on every film the expectation of being marveled by it as if being introduced to the universe for the first time. We already know it, we've already seen it, we've already traveled through it. Maybe now is the time to carry on with the story in a meaningful way, rather than unconsciously desiring to re-live the original trilogy again.

That being said, a word of appreciation for bringing puppet Yoda back, which I felt was something that was needed.

Yoda and Luke

The movie's most fundamental aspect and the cornerstone beneath all of its story is, in reality, Luke Skywalker and what happens to him. Luke's character carries the old soul of the trilogy, brought forward in time and in tone. And the movie handled this in a manner that was masterful. I really mean that. Luke is portrayed as having a very genuine and logical reaction considering his role in the story and what happened in his life. And while he did not react like a traditional Hero would be expected to, he was nevertheless capable of a proper, matching heroic response. The movie gave Luke Skywalker a proper and fitting send-off.

What makes the movie for me an 8 out of 10, rather than a 9 or 10, is the fact that because it had so many things going on and so much to do, many of its features had various degrees of success. Some were pulled off okay; some were meaningful and insightful, but transmitted in a way that felt convoluted and awkward; others failed to connect completely. Other choices still, were just plain bad - I'm looking at you, WWII bombers in space.