by Edward Gross
RAY MORTON
The Last Jedi proved to be a very divisive film among fans. Many (mostly younger) fans loved the movie for its iconoclasm and its message that we must let go of the past if we are to move into the future. Many (mostly older) fans disliked the film for its negative reframe of the original trilogy and the original characters. Some (bigots, babies, and basement dwellers) objected to the film’s lead and the prominent roles played by people of color. Excluding the last group (who are just deplorable), the passion both of the first two groups feel—which can unfortunately turn exhaustingly mean-spirited in some online discussions—proves that forty years after the release of the first film, George Lucas’s modern myth still means a great deal to a great many people the world over. And nowhere is that meaning better captured than in the final scene in The Last Jedi, in which a young boy looks to the heavens and then—imagining his broomstick to be a lightsaber—raises it to the sky in an echo of the original poster for Star Wars. Because it symbolizes so perfectly the spirit of the dreams, the imagination, and the hope that movies in general and the Star Wars movies, in particular, engender in us, this is my favorite scene in the entire sequel trilogy.
15
THE SKYWALKER’S THE LIMIT: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER
“I have died before. The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be … unnatural.”
Only six months after The Last Jedi opened in theaters—evoking a largely positive reception from critics, but a more divisive one from fans—Disney released the second of the Star Wars anthology films, Solo: A Star Wars Story. (A third, Rogue Squadron, will be released in 2023, at the earliest.) A prequel which depicted a young Han Solo making his way in the universe, it was the first Star Wars film to be considered an outright failure at the theatrical box office (although characters, including a young Lando played brilliantly by Donald Glover, are still in play for television offshoots), albeit with grosses that would be enviable for many other franchises.
Despite early rumors that Alden Ehrenreich as the young rogue required an acting coach on set and was tanking in film dailies, the Hail, Caesar veteran acquitted himself admirably in the role. After all, who could live up to the swagger and devilish charm of a young Harrison Ford? Despite this, the film, like Rogue One, went through a number of production challenges, including the replacement of its madcap directors, iconoclastic filmmakers Chris Miller and Phil Lord (21 Jump Street, The Lego Movie), after a falling-out with producer Kathleen Kennedy, who reportedly felt they were taking the film in too comedic a direction. After their departure, reliable Lucasfilm vet and journeyman helmer Willow director Ron Howard was drafted to reshoot and complete the film. In the end, it was an unmitigated disaster, costing $275 million and grossing $393 million, the worst-performing entry (and worst-looking due to the muddy cinematography of Bradford Young) of all the Star Wars live-action features. The result? A complete rethinking of the Star Wars anthology films on the big screen concurrent with the release of the next installment of what was now dubbed the Skywalker Saga, which was set to conclude the nine-film series in 2019, and big-screen Obi-Wan and Boba Fett adventures both migrating to television instead. In addition, a little known anthology film spotlighting the Inquisitors, who had been introduced in the Star Wars: Rebels animated series as a band of ruthless assassins charged by the Emperor with hunting down the remaining Jedi and Force-sensitive children in the galaxy, was also abandoned.
When Rian Johnson was announced as the writer/director of Episode VIII, it was indicated he would also pen a treatment for Episode IX—presumably to ensure that the story he was telling in Episode VIII would be properly concluded. There were also hints that Johnson might direct the final sequel as well. However, in August 2015 Lucasfilm announced that Colin Trevorrow would direct Episode IX and that he would cowrite the screenplay with his regular writing partner, Derek Connolly. Trevorrow’s first film was the well-regarded, low-budget indie sci-fi comedy Safety Not Guaranteed. That, and his subsequent success reviving the Jurassic Park franchise with Jurassic World for Steven Spielberg, made him a presumably smart choice to work on the finale of Disney’s everything-old-is-new-again trilogy. Once Trevorrow came aboard, no more mention was made of Johnson writing a treatment—Trevorrow and Connolly would devise their own story.
Back when Trevorrow was announced as director, Kathleen Kennedy enthused, “Colin is someone I’ve been interested in working with ever since I saw Safety Not Guaranteed. The power of that film paired with the enormous success of Jurassic World speaks volumes about his abilities both as a storyteller and skilled filmmaker. We are thrilled to have such an incredible talent as Colin join our family and step into the Star Wars universe.”
For his part, Trevorrow added, “This is not a job or an assignment. It is a seat at a campfire, surrounded by an extraordinary group of storytellers, filmmakers, artists, and craftspeople. We’ve been charged with telling new stories for a younger generation because they deserve what we all had—a mythology to call their own. We will do this by channeling something George Lucas instilled in all of us: boundless creativity, pure invention, and hope.”
GLEN OLIVER
(pop culture commentator)
Rise of Skywalker was an enjoyable, unchallenging finale to the Disney-era sequel trilogy, but it was a relatively poor summation of, or celebration of, the history and nitty-gritty of Star Wars. It wasn’t particularly concerned with addressing the core essence which Star Wars has explored, and been driven by, over the years. It’s a very literal finale to a set of three sequel movies, with a few begrudging nods to the past thrown in for good measure. It doesn’t truly service the heart and soul of its own mythology. Trevorrow and Connolly’s work … was the opposite. Their approach was vastly more holistic and existential. They managed to juggle not only the narrative corners and requirements set forth by Force Awakens and Last Jedi, but also deep dove into the spirit and essence of what Star Wars is. And in doing so, seemed keenly interested in also illustrating what Star Wars could be. An example: for decades we’ve heard the term “balance to the Force” bandied about. What does that look like, literally and figuratively? What does that concept actually mean when all is said and done? What is the value, and the toll, of all that has happened leading up to this final tale?
Trevorrow and Connolly’s notion seems to be that “balance” in the Force does not necessarily represent absolute purification of our innermost selves, or unequivocal altruism. They suggest that “balance” in the Force actually hinges on attaining our innermost, natural balance. There is good, and evil, in all of us. Dark and light. The friction between those two qualities creates unease and downfall. The reconciliation of these two concepts … coming to terms with them, and assuming command over both of them, is what leads to our most powerful, most capable selves. Empowering action and decision-making, which then radiates into the universe around us. This, coupled with the script’s clearly stated “no one is no one” conceit, pulls messaging of Star Wars out of the established universe, and reflects it strongly back onto our real-world human condition as a whole. There’s great power, and empowerment, in that approach.
* * *
Trevorrow and Connolly’s story, Duel of the Fates, finds now chancellor Hux, who has jammed communications between star systems to prevent insurrection, pursuing the Resistance, while Supreme Leader Kylo Ren travels to Mustafar and the remains of Darth Vader’s castle in search of a clue to the whereabouts of Mortis and its purported wellspring of the Force. The latter point would have represented one of the first references in the films to something that was created for the animated series The Clone Wars (though a popular character from that show, Ahsoka Tano, shows up in both the animated Rebels and season two of the Disney+ series The Mandalorian). Force ghosts pay a visit to Kylo in the form of Luke Skywalker, trying to prevail on him to return to his mother; and of Rey, who is trying to lure him back to the light.
PETER HOLMSTROM
(cohost, The
Rebel & the Rogue podcast)
Unlike Rise of Skywalker, Duel of the Fates fully commits to a villainous Kylo Ren. While on Mustafar, Kylo finds an old communication in Vader’s castle, a nice little nod to Ralph McQuarrie’s early design and scenes from Rogue One, from Emperor Palpatine to Vader, telling Vader that if he should fall, to go to the Remnicore system and train with an ancient Force-wielder, Tor Valum, who instructed Darth Plagueis in the ways of overcoming death. In the process of accessing the message, Kylo is severely injured by an energy burst, and he must wear a new respirator mask even more fearsome than his grandfather’s. This script is notable because it does not shy away from the darker, pseudo-horror/fantasy elements that made many genre films from the eighties so memorable, but have definitively fallen out of favor in recent years.
* * *
Unlike The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, which maintain a fairly limited scope in terms of characters and situations, Duel of the Fates expands the scope of the Star Wars universe.
PETER HOLMSTROM
Trevorrow opens the film with a fun sequence of stealing a Star Destroyer, with Poe, Finn, Rose, Chewie, and a now fully trained Rey infiltrating a First Order repair facility and stealing it under their very noses. It’s worth noting that Rey kicks ass in this proposed movie, leading the charge and in full possession of strength and power. She’s a fully realized hero in this version, and I think it would’ve resonated with the fans. Rey and Poe have developed a romantic dynamic, but Rey resists, knowing her responsibilities are greater than any personal attachments. There’s a heartbreaking moment where she uses a Force suggestion to get Poe to leave her behind, in the shape of a kiss—and it breaks your heart, because you know that she feels something for him, but can’t risk putting him in harm’s way.
* * *
Rey and Kylo have a shared vision of Mortis, revealing a pair of empty thrones designed for a Jedi and a Sith. Together, by drawing power from the wellspring, they are supposed to bring balance to the Force (of course, Anakin Skywalker was destined to do the same thing, but that prophecy didn’t materialize given his turn to the dark side and transformation into the dreaded Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, in the prequel trilogy).
Training with Luke’s Force ghost, Rey is told that Kylo must be killed before he can reach the wellspring. This infuriates her because of the continual battle between the light and the dark and the fact that nothing ever seems to change.
PETER HOLMSTROM
Kylo’s storyline on Remnicore leans into the fantasy element of Star Wars in a great way. Tor Valum teaches Kylo how to siphon Force power off of other living things, in a decidedly vampiric way. Valum tells Kylo of the planet Mortis, and its connection to the wellspring of the Force. Kylo demands to know more of Mortis, but Valum deems Kylo not worthy of that knowledge, so Kylo kills Valum and extracts the knowledge from Valum’s mind by force. The dangers of greed and selfishness are present throughout this film, and more than anything, you feel such pity as Kylo digs deeper into his suffering.
* * *
While a spiritual battle exists between Rey and Kylo, a more practical battle of good versus evil exists elsewhere.
PETER HOLMSTROM
Fans of Rose Tico from The Last Jedi would have much preferred this version of Rose over The Rise of Skywalker’s 1:14 minutes of the character. Here, Finn and Rose travel to the decaying Coruscant, which is the seat of the First Order, now under the control of “Chancellor” Hux. Their mission is to activate a long-dormant Jedi communication device to break the communication jam that’s been set in place. Although their mission fails, they discover an underground city serving as home to thousands of the planet’s downtrodden. Enough, perhaps, to serve as an army. Finn leads a rebellion against the First Order from the ground, while Rose attempts to activate the Jedi beacon in a last-ditch attempt to call for help. Poe, meanwhile, leads an aerial assault to keep the First Order fleet from firing on the Rebellion from above. Initially, they do well, but eventually the First Order gains an advantage. The Resistance appears to be doomed.
* * *
The literal “Duel of the Fates,” meanwhile, takes place on Mortis, where Rey and Kylo face off above the wellspring of the Force.
PETER HOLMSTROM
The crosscutting between the final battles on Mortis and Coruscant feels epic and large. Finn has managed to become a revolutionary leader on Coruscant—a nice arc for a small stormtrooper with an existential crisis in The Force Awakens—while Rey faces off against the man who—she learns—killed her parents years before on Snoke’s orders. Rey, though, continues to believe that only through forgiveness can balance in the Force be attained. Kylo manages to blind Rey with his lightsaber and enters the temple to reach the wellspring—which he discovers dried out long ago. Rey, near death, is given strength by the support of all of her friends via the Force and, while still blind, enters the temple in pursuit of Kylo, glowing. She nearly kills him, but offers her hand one more time, which he takes—only to drain her life force as Valum taught him, and using it to heal himself. Her screams of anguish reach Leia across the galaxy. Sensing what’s happening, Leia calls out to Kylo Ren and he—both healed and touched by goodness—becomes Ben Solo. He reverses the transference of energy back into Rey, saving her life and sacrificing his own. Before he dies, he tells Rey that her family name is Solano.
* * *
Back on Coruscant, the Resistance gets some last-minute support from Lando Calrissian and a team of mercenaries. The tide turns and the Resistance finally triumphs. Shamed by the First Order’s defeat, Chancellor Hux uses a lightsaber to commit seppuku out of shame.
PETER HOLMSTROM
The film ends on a more spiritual/philosophical note, exactly as the saga should. Rey—teetering on the edge of death after her confrontation with Kylo—travels to the world between worlds, where she meets the Force ghosts of Luke, Yoda, and Obi-Wan. She tells them she has finally figured out that to balance the Force is to balance the good and evil within herself. This action firmly gives significance to each part of the Skywalker Saga, and also states Rey as the true living representation of a future era for the Star Wars universe. It ends with Rey being given the choice to remain as one with the Force, or to return to the land of the living and continue the struggle for peace. As someone who got a degree in philosophy largely because of Star Wars, I can say I and many others like me would’ve loved this ending.
* * *
Meanwhile, with the war finally over, Leia finds peace as she watches a star fall from the heavens. With the wellspring of the Force now full again, Finn and Rose start a school for Force-sensitive children, while Poe and Chewie prepare to set off in the Falcon in search of Rey.
As twin suns set, our heroes see someone walking toward them across the plain. As the person gets closer, they see that it is Rey.
GLEN OLIVER
Duel of the Fates asks a number of grander questions than Rise likely ever considered asking, and does so in provocative ways: Why does this ages-old conflict now appear to be coming to an end, once and for all? And the answer is decidedly not because the Emperor has yet another dastardly plan. He does have a plan here, but it’s more of a will—an instruction—than a comeback. In Trevorrow and Connolly’s work, it’s time to end the war because war … exhausts. War … breaks. War … decays. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. “We’ve been fighting this war for too long,” says Finn. Duel shows us just this. Rise of Skywalker approached its resolution somewhat insularly—another plan by Palpatine, another crisis which compels our heroes towards battle. Its resolution was … amorphous … and seemed specific chiefly to the sequel trilogy, as opposed to embracing the whole of the thematics which drove the Skywalker Saga proper.
RAY MORTON
(senior editor, Script magazine)
It introduces a really smart and compelling solution to the eternal battle between good and evil by stating that the conflict cannot be won by facing outward, but only by turning inward and fighting the b
attle—and finding the balance—in our own hearts and souls. Heal yourself, heal the world. It’s a lovely notion and the perfect way to resolve the balance issue introduced back in The Phantom Menace. It provides an excellent resolution to the question of Rey’s heritage—her parents were nobodies and they are dead. Her old family is gone, but she has found a new one with Leia, Poe, Chewie, Rose, and Finn. It’s simple and real and it works. Finally provides a plausible motivation for Kylo’s murder of Han Solo—he is under the belief that the only way he can become a full Sith is to sever himself from all of his emotions, especially love. Killing Han was his way of demonstrating to Snoke that he has done so.
GLEN OLIVER
In Rise, and the sequel trilogy in general, there’s a heavy focus on our core characters—who (I assume) are supposed to be representative of “resistance” across the galaxy. In Duel we see the faces of this resistance, via cutaways to the faces of everyday, ordinary folks looking up into the skies to see Leia’s energy-carried call to unity and arms beam across the cosmos. We see them making a stand on Coruscant, and elsewhere. We feel that there’s a galaxy full of people who are, quite simply, done with it all. Who are finally willing to, needing to, rise. This epic conflict, which had been somewhat microfocused, as well as immediately focused, throughout the Skywalker Saga is suddenly given a broader, vastly more connected, and meaningful scope in Duel. Rendering a baseline, pulp-serial setup—which might be fairly regarded as frivolous at face value—startlingly resonant, and easy to connect with.
