There’s a moment in first hour of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi that involves the certain death of a legacy character. Then something very unexpected happens, and it’s in this moment that the die is likely cast for a viewer’s enjoyment of the film. It’s one of the first indications that what we think we know about The Force is challenged, and if one accepts this, the rest is gravy. If the jokes in the face of what could have been pretty grim and austere proceedings that preceded this event didn’t remind viewers of the mythology by way of Saturday morning serials nature of this franchise that has been lost in the decades long fan reverence for the original trilogy, then the remainder of the movie will certainly be viewed through a dark lens. Make no mistake. This populist entertainment has some profound things to say, but the tempering of these ideas with humor and gonzo risks that will either frustrate or delight are what really make the movie fly.
As the film’s plot kicks into gear, Johnson’s take on the mythos is revealed to be both facile and revelatory. Just as the key players in the original Star Wars trilogies were once new to the great unending conflict between warring ideologies that had preceded them, The Last Jedi doubles down on the notion that others must take up the baton (or light saber) in this war for the future of the galaxy.
The scrappy Rey is certainly Luke’s analog in this new generation of hero, but she is different in many ways, first and foremost in her uncertainty as to what her place is in the conflict. While the young farm boy from Tatooine with the special ancestry plunged headlong into the fray, Rey is less sure footed. She wants to understand what she’s getting into, so when she visits the legendary Skywalker whose feet of clay are readily and immediately apparent, she is flummoxed. To her credit, his refusals to help her in the face of her willingness to understand her destiny are met with a stubborn tenacity that feels more real than the way Luke himself approached his training on Dagobah. In those swamps, Luke acted petulant when faced with adversity and left before he was ready to face his destiny. In The Last Jedi, Rey seems to have been born ready. She just needs confirmation that her cause is just, and she wants Luke to follow her back to her new friends and his old compatriots. She is the eager idealist searching for the why beneath her nascent powers. It’s a time-honored trope: The neophyte scaling the mountain to learn at the master’s feet. The master gives the would-be pupil every opportunity to walk away. He even encourages it. When the pupil doesn’t waver, she passes the first test, and only then will the master impart his wisdom. But the master never really leaves his sanctuary because he understands that the fight will not be won by him, but by those that come after. If there was ever a doubt, someone arrives to remind Luke of that fact.
The Last Jedi is about accepting those responsibilities. It’s about the tough love from elders required to bring them to fruition. It’s about the messy way that youth find their way, and Johnson makes it clear that even the villains in his story understand and even advocate this.
Kylo Ren is at a crossroads. His Vader worship has not proven to be the power-giving talisman that he expected, and his attempt to course correct his destiny stands at the center of this film. Jokes have been made in some corridors about Kylo Ren’s emo nature. His master even mocks him in the film for being a pale Vader imitation (as Rey did in the previous film’s interrogation scene), but it’s in Kylo Ren’s character that something even more dangerous evolves, an idealist whose behavior is truly unhinged and unpredictable. While The Force Awakens showed him wrestling with his conscience, The Last Jedishows Kylo Ren accepting his role as the new face of evil in the galaxy. Killing his father was just the beginning of the depths to which he will sink. In a critical moment in The Last Jedi, he relapses, but when again confronted with his own weakness, he rebounds with renewed conviction and a new mantra to let the past die, to bury it. As the movie unspools, this is no lip service.
The Last Jedi hammers home the idea that both evil and good are only small degrees away from each other, and it’s in this notion that the staying power of the film will be judged. In the previous films, turning from the dark to the light has been portrayed as an event that required a trigger and a suplication to a character’s true nature or a manipulation of their feelings and desires. Luke could feel the good in Vader in the Emperor’s throne room, but only when faced with his son’s demise does Vader redeem himself. In The Last Jedi, Johnson presents the struggle for the future generation as ongoing. It expands on the tree on Dagobah where Luke sees his own face under Vader’s helm. For Johnson, this wasn’t just a warning. It was a fact of life—the reality of surrendering to the force. Herein lies the genius of Johnson’s film. Some might quibble with each part of the movie’s structure not carrying equal weight (many of those criticisms miss the point of Finn’s arc in this installment). Some might even reject how heavy-handed some of the ideals are presented, but it’s hard to argue that Johnson doesn’t love Star Wars. He loves it so much, he’s willing to break it down to these ideals, not just its aesthetic. He nails that part too. There’s a joy here even when the proceedings are at their darkest. Fittingly, he gives Carrie Fisher’s Leia one of the film’s final lines, a short and poignant message of hope in the face of the Resistance’s losses.
In the film’s final reel, newcomer Kellie Marie Tran delivers a line as spunky Rose Tico that not only captures the spirit of the struggle at the heart of Johnson’s film but also charts a course for the next generation of the Resistance: the rebellion is not about destroying what we hate, but saving what we love. A more profound heroic statement cannot be found in all the Star Wars films, and if the franchise is to feel fresh and relevant for future generations, this is a mantra that carries water. What separates the good from evil? Can you be good if you resort to the same methodologies of those that you claim to be evil? After the conversations about whether this film killed or revived the legacy of Star Wars dissipate, this notion will continue to resonate, and if we’re lucky, future filmmakers will be daring enough to risk the ire of some fans to say something about why the Star Wars mythos has and should continue to endure.
