"Star Wars: The Last Jedi"

Do the Caretakers keep his hand working?

The aftermath of the release of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi must be one of the most brisk turnarounds in recent film franchise history. In less than a week the received wisdom on the internet went from the by now utterly routine claim that the film was one of the strongest instalments in the series since The Empire Strikes Back, to such a judgement's nemesis figure, namely that it was a complete disaster, a franchise-killer on a scale equivalent to Supreme Leader Snoke's flagship relative to the mere dreadnoughts of the Prequels. It feels almost pointless to rehash the arguments being made online, especially about the film's structure, pacing, narrative choices and humour, although I'll still look into them for the benefit of any reader who only spends a healthy amount of time on the internet. To start without, however, I wish to contextualise the process of responding to The Last Jedi in regards to my own experience.

"The cave's collapsing!"

Before I saw The Last Jedi, I'd for some reason gotten it into my head that I more or less knew what was going to happen. Luke would be a wise old man who trained Rey to be a powerful Jedi, perhaps after a little reluctance; she'd probably need to prove herself worthy of some great secret discovered by Luke on the Ahch-To island. Leia would send Finn and Poe on some arbitrary mission to fight the First Order, which would provide us with most of our mid-film action. At the end, Luke and Rey would return and fight Snoke and Kylo Ren. Luke might get killed by Snoke, or perhaps he and Rey would be unsuccessful, but would escape and decide that, in order to truly destroy these dark force users, they needed to give rebuilding the Jedi Order another go.

The salt planet of Noth.

I don't really know why I assumed that this is what would happen. Perhaps it seemed like the single logical direction in which the film could go after the end of The Force Awakens, which seemed to leave Rian Johnson in a position in which he had to produce a "Luke trains Rey, Finn and Poe carry on with the Resistance" story that I imagined could only go one way, particularly based on the limited amount of leaks I'd heard about or seen by accident. Nonetheless, I felt almost as if I'd already seen the film, and that the viewing would merely fill in the details for the sketch I'd already produced in my head.

Clicking 'comments' on any social media
post about this film.

Perhaps this partially explains the sense of bafflement I experienced the first time I watched The Last Jedi, which saw me emerging from the cinema at the end of the screen head in hands and feeling absolutely bewildered, considering that what I'd just watched bordered upon being a Prequel-level mess. I went to bed that night exasperated and woke up pained, with a cinematic bad taste in my mouth. And if you think I was taking this trash about space knights hitting each other with glowsticks a bit seriously you'd be right, but at least I can take some comfort in the fact that an annoying Star Wars film was the biggest of my troubles. It was only as the film continued to revolve in my head, like black uniforms in a First Order washing machine, that I started to remember more and more how satisfying many parts of the film had been: Luke's discussions with Rey about the Force and the Jedi; Rey and Kylo Ren's telepathic conversations; Rey's confrontation with Snoke; Luke's confrontation with Kylo. I'd known from the start that I would almost certainly see the film again, simply because it was a Star Wars film (although I didn't with Rogue One), and I became increasingly eager to do so. I knew that for every sequence of Finn and Rose in a casino, or Poe being an insubordinate idiot, or Maz Kanata, I was going to get Rey in the cave, or Kylo killing Snoke, or Luke facing down the entire First Order.

"You must be swift as a coursing river..."

As a result, upon second viewing, I thoroughly enjoyed The Last Jedi, embracing its strongest scenes, taking its humour as it came and tolerating alien horse racing in the knowledge that we'd be back to Luke, Rey and Kylo soon enough. When the credits came I was full of good cheer, and over the next few days I was replaying scenes in my head, anticipating a third viewing or the eventual blu-ray release, and looking at myself in the bathroom mirror at work and saying, "I will not be the last Jedi." Knowing when the film would go astray allowed me to focus more on when the film succeeded, and I find myself thinking, right now at least, that The Last Jedi is the best of the Disney-era Star Wars films. That's not to say that the film isn't flawed, because it is, significantly, but what it does well it accomplishes with such aplomb that the problems pale into drastically reduced significance. Yet the reaction the film is receiving suggests that many do not share this attitude. I might touch upon the reaction as I discuss the film, but in general my view is that to completely dismiss the film as some kind of failure is to do oneself a disservice in overlooking how the film succeeds.

Narrative Structure and Pacing

At least one of these didn't conveniently
appear to separate Luke and Kylo.

As I've already discussed in my first impressions post, the major weakness of The Last Jedi is in its structure. Simply put, its secondary plot is too far removed from its primary, and is too slow and clumsy in establishing its contribution to the shared ideas which coalesce in the film's finale. Perhaps it's personal to me, because my favourite character in the Original Trilogy is Luke, and my favourite new character is Rey, but I wasn't sufficiently interested in Finn and Poe to not find their extended storyline distracting. While I found Finn somewhat annoying in The Force Awakens, I think John Boyega's performance was fine with the role he was given, and I liked Oscar Isaac's, smaller though it admittedly was. I was perfectly happy to see the characters in this, but I think the film devotes more time to them than is necessary. In a sense this problem largely arises because the Rey-Luke-Kylo narrative is so interesting that everything else seems irrelevant by comparison. Yet the issue also emerges from the contrived and clumsy nature of the secondary plot.

Why didn't the Falcon cause as much pants-
wetting from fans this time around?

My view was that an extended, slow-motion chase between the First Order fleet and that of the Resistance lacked any tension. It could have gone for a sense of dread, but the characters amble about so casually and everything carries on so normally, with so little apparent anxiety on the part of the characters, that it's hard to see it. Even Poe, the most frustrated character in this narrative, only seems mildly impatient most of the time. Furthermore, sending Finn and Rose to another planet in the midst of this sequence flattens any suspense even further, as despite warnings on Rose's part the characters simply feel like they have time to spare, time for Finn to run around the casino looking amazed, time to dismiss an offer of help from a fellow prison inmate and time to gently remove the saddle from an alien horse after a fairly long chase. It just occurred to me that the film has a chase within a chase, which enfeebles the larger chase further still. This storyline also involves the entirely arbitrary insertion of Maz Kanata, a character I greatly disliked in The Force Awakens, who seems to be Skypeing Finn, Poe and Rose despite being in the middle of a firefight; is a floating camera following her around? She seems to only be in the film because her actress was contracted to be, or something similar.

You can convert your gold to Muggle money here.

Ultimately the Canto Bight sequence is intended to flesh out the film's theme of democratisation, as well as the related progression of Finn's character development, and the reason it suffers is because that entire side of the plot is misconceived. There's no need for the fleet chase to happen, which is the excuse for Finn and Rose going to a casino. The tension could have been served perfectly well, perhaps better, if the Resistance had spent much of the film in the bunker waiting for the First Order to arrive, rather than hurrying there in the finale. The concept of rebellion and democracy could similarly have been established if the bunker had been occupied by some oppressive party upon the Resistance's arrival, perhaps one which offered to let them use the facility; would the Resistance be willing to weaken themselves further before the First Order's arrival by fighting to free the occupier's slaves? I'm hypothesising wildly, and I'm no screenwriter, but I feel like if this element was needed it could have been handled more elegantly. It would also have eliminated the sequence involving Finn and Rose infiltrating the flagship. This part felt, in my view, simultaneously rushed and protracted. At first Finn, Rose and DJ seem to acquire uniforms and find where they need to go with bewildering rapidity, but when they're caught and facing execution their sentences seem to be interminably delayed.

"He must have thought I was dead!
Good thing I wasn't!"

The primary narrative, featuring Rey, Luke and Kylo Ren, is engrossing by contrast, and only suffers in that it must share time with its counterpart. Indeed, at times Johnson almost appears to choose to cut away from this plot needlessly, and while this might have been intended to create a feeling of anticipation and excitement, it can instead make the secondary plot feel tedious and frustrating. Nonetheless, the "Jedi story", as it were, is the film's ongoing highlight. Rey arrives at Ahch-To seeking hope and answers, yet in the end Luke needs to find these from her. We learn more about Kylo Ren's attitude and the experiences which shaped him, yet with this empathy we discover that he is only being driven further and further into the darkness. Finally, we see how Luke has changed, his recovery and ultimately his victory over himself and his own weaknesses. We see enough of these elements, but in a differently-structured film I feel that they could have been explored a touch further and been just a mite more satisfying, to the creation of what would overall be a more effective whole. It's worth emphasising that despite structure and pacing being a prominent shortcoming of the film, and one which naturally affects other parts, it does not eliminate how successful the film's achievements are.

Just get R2-D2 to use his fire extinguisher.

If anything, The Last Jedi's construction as a narrative is most comparable not to The Empire Strikes Back but rather to Return of the Jedi, in that both texts feature a strong narrative for certain protagonists and antagonists, and an arguably distracting secondary plot which exists to a certain degree to give the remaining protagonists something to do. The question, however, is not really whether the Ewoks or Canto Bight are more annoying, but rather whether their respective sequences feel necessary to the plot, and I can't help but feel that needing to find an unrelated codebreaker to get aboard Snoke's ship is a more clunky plot development than needing to disable a shield generator specifically built to protect the Death Star. Both elements do inform the other plot; the Ewoks demonstrate the folly of underestimating an opponent, while Canto Bight addresses the concept of freedom. I do, however, feel that the Return of the Jedi plot is a more functional secondary narrative.

Direction and Cinematography

Where was this on the island anyway?

Now I'm not a filmmaker, and to call my knowledge of direction, cinematography and editing superficial would be an understatement. Nonetheless, it's clear even to my untrained eye that Johnson knowns how to derive a strong performance from his actors, and that he probably lets the characters emerge in the performances as well. The film is also photographed very coherently, especially in the use of establishing shots and high or wide approaches with depth that give us insight into the positioning of characters in their environment. Of course, in special effects-laden films it's not always possible to convey complete clarity, and The Last Jedi has the same visual shortcomings all Star Wars films do in struggling to convey where characters are inside vast battleships and space stations. The only other major points of visual weakness which occur to me are some slightly awkward cutting which left me a little confused as to the location of the tree on the Ahch-To island, and some effects shots in which I found the size, arrangement and composition of the Resistance fleet a tad unclear, as well as some inevitably artificial-looking moments in the Canto Bight escape.

Instant migraine.

On the other hand, as with all of the film's other strengths, when the film succeeds visually it does so in masterful fashion. This is particularly evident in the scenes in which Rey and Kylo Ren communicate telepathically, which are so effortlessly clear in what they convey that they almost require special attention to notice the deftness of touch found in them, so natural is the framing and editing. The film eschews the pastiche which dominated The Force Awakens and achieves its own visual style with the use of shots I've previously mentioned, in addition to some other interesting pieces of filmmaking, such as an extreme close up early in the film, the use of reflection and the use of low angles to enhance vigorous moments particularly. This makes sequences such as Rey's lightsaber practice, Luke's giant spear fishing and Rey and Kylo's battle with Snoke's Praetorian Guard memorable and distinctive. The reshooting of scenes through flashback to contrast Luke and Kylo's conflicting stories of their confrontation at the Training Temple also creates a structure in which the audience visually engages with the storytelling, as well as contrasting the traditional style which was almost always firmly in the present action. The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi are both films shot in a generally engaging manner, but The Last Jedi is almost certainly the most interesting of the Disney films thus far, including the shock-and-awe disaster-movie shooting style of Rogue One.

Effects and Design

Cross-sections ahoy.

This is an area I probably understand even less, but in these computer-enhanced action blockbusters they have to be addressed. In general, the practical effects and digital effects succeed in that they are difficult to distinguish from each other. I do think this looked somewhat better than some of the effects in The Force Awakens, although this may partially be due to kind of action presented. As I've said, the alien horse riding at times looks a little fake, and so do some of the scenes of them crashing through walls, as well as ships blowing up. The scenes of BB-8 controlling an AT-ST feel rather hollow also. Some of Poe's X-Wing manoeuvres defy belief to an extent, but they're tolerable. In general, as has been said before, there's little achievement in effects anymore unless practical effects receive more the renaissance they could have with today's technology, and effects are not where this film's strengths lie.

Nah.

Design-wise, while much of the film relies on the established look of The Force Awakens, itself drawing heavily upon the Original Trilogy, it does have a few new things to do. Canto Bight and its inhabitants remind one of the Prequels somewhat, so it's perhaps for the best that they are only a few scenes and not the entire film. The Resistance bombers are a design which fits well with days gone by. Outside the casino, my greatest objection would probably be to the First Order vehicles with which we are presented. The new AT-M6 walkers to me just look pointlessly overdesigned, and the look of the Dreadnought is unmemorable, as is Kylo Ren's TIE fighter. Snoke's flagship is a little better, but its absurd size somewhat stretches credulity in the same manner as the Starkiller. It seems implausible that an organisation still recovering its old Empire can produce such excessive weapons. One of the more shameful design choices is the use of glossy red armour for Snoke's Praetorian Guard; why would they so closely evoke the Emperor's guards except to reference the Original Trilogy? It's a design choice which only seems to make sense outside the confines of the narrative. The creature designs were heavily marketed in the leadup to the film, especially the Porgs, but personally I found the Caretakers to be the most effective new design. The alien horse things, and crystal fox things, are not especially memorable.

The shield will be down in moments.
You may start your landing.

This is something I very rarely touch upon, but one area in which the film shines is in the costuming. Kylo Ren's new outfit, and the attire Rey dons for her confrontation with him and Snoke, are striking ensembles. Luke's mixture of costumes reflects his highly varying roles, while Leia's garb provides Carrie Fisher's final performance with gravitas and dignity. Even Snoke's flashy gold robe reflects his role in the story well as an individual who thinks more highly of himself than he deserves. To be utterly cliché, clothes maketh the man, and in The Last Jedi they're a point in the film's favour especially in terms of how they reinforce the film's stronger narrative. Note that Poe, Finn and Rose's textbook Resistance duds are nothing particularly appealing, although the officer's uniform, replete with massive jodhpurs, Finn is wearing during his brief stoush with Phasma gives him a certain distinctiveness in an otherwise inconsequential scene.

I like to think that Chewie still
ate the one he cooked.

Screenplay and Humour

Like the rest of the film, the screenplay is a mixture of stronger and weaker elements. A number of commenters have objected to the amount of humour in the film, especially arguing that it deflates tension and makes it difficult to take the story seriously at points. I certainly think there are times when the humour is unsuccessful, although the main one which comes to mind is most of Poe's interaction with Hux at the start of the film. I did get a chuckle out of a few points, like Luke tickling Rey's hand, Kylo's bemused look at Hux repeating his orders and DJ's dismissive, "Maybe," when his attitude is challenged by Finn. Leia telling C-3PO to stop looking nervous is amusing too. From a more visual standpoint, the Caretakers are kind of amusing, and the Porgs clearly just fodder for the kids, but they feel like natural enough insertions without getting in the way. The humour is one of those elements which has the most impact upon first viewing, and falls away somewhat subsequently. It bothered me somewhat the first time, but I didn't really mind it the second.

Let's dance.

At times I do think other lines can be clunky or seem inadequately reviewed. For instance, both Poe and Lieutenant Connix say "Punch it," only a minute or two apart. Both Rey and Rose accuse someone of being a "Snake" later in the film. There's perhaps an overuse of the word "scum" as well. I found Rey's question to Luke, "Did you try to murder him?" possibly unavoidably clunky due to its cadence and the specificity of the language given the heat of the moment; why wouldn't she just say "kill" unless it was meant to reflect her struggle to say it earlier? I'd also argue that if Rey has any issue with this she doesn't seem to feel any remorse about killing the Praetorian Guards later in the film, regardless of the situation being one of survival.

Why no crappy video game for the Sequels?

The rest of the script, in my view, was solid and serviceable, with some notable highlights particularly from Luke and Kylo. Kylo's thoughts on the past, and Luke's on himself, the Force and the Jedi are thought-provokingly articulated and lend the serious moments the weight they deserve. A couple of other noteworthy lines might include Finn calling Phasma "Chrome Dome", which evokes "Goldenrod" in reference to C-3PO, and Yoda's "We are what they grow beyond." Although I'm sure there were numerous stipulations, allowing Johnson to both direct and write gave the film a unified voice and vision, and as with everything else, when it succeeds it does so highly.

Characterisation and Character Development

Rey

Does Rey even know what an ocean is?

Of the new protagonists of the Sequel Trilogy, I found Rey to be the most interesting part of The Force Awakens and the most interesting part of this. Rey was perhaps the character about whom my expectations were the least defied. I expected her to learn more about the Force and about herself. Yet what I enjoyed about her characterisation was how it played upon her successes in the previous film, an aspect which raised eyebrows. In this film, Rey's hopes that Luke will provide meaning to her life are shattered, she is manipulated into sympathising with Kylo Ren, and she shows herself to be both naïve and hubristic enough to think that it is within her capacity to redeem Kylo and confront Snoke, and in both of these regards she fails. From this, the film tells us, learning must emerge.

How do those sleeves stay on?

Daisy Ridley brings the same endearing sincerity to Rey as she did in the previous film, and her rapport with both Mark Hamill and Adam Driver are a testament to the actors and Johnson's direction. Something which lends Rey strength in the film is that she is a character afforded less of the humorous dialogue; most of the comedy surrounding her involves her being clumsy or overconfident. I feel like, in much the same manner as Luke, Rey is a character whose motivations we understand. Like so many people, she's unsure of her place in the world, and wants answers. When she thinks she's close to getting them, she risks getting carried away, and makes some rash decisions. Her belief in Kylo's potential for redemption is less strongly founded than Luke's with Vader, but it's also pleasing to see her refusal of Kylo's offer of power derive not from hatred and disgust, like Luke's, but from frustration and disappointment. After trying to reignite Luke's belief in his own legacy, she tries to emulate it without having been through the same experiences, and fails. Things don't go as well for her as she expected, and she has to carry on. It's noteworthy that her desire to redeem Kylo largely derives from the belief that doing so will save the Resistance, while Luke's was more personally between himself and his father. It is Rey's devotion to her friends and her cause which drives her narrative.

Did she bring hair gel with her in the Falcon?

If I am to criticise anything about Rey it would only be that I felt as if she didn't have enough to do in the film's finale, merely firing the Millennium Falcon's guns and lifting some rocks, although in the latter role she functions neatly as the Resistance's ongoing hope after Luke's departure. I was particularly pleased by the revelation about her parents: that they were nobody. This was entirely consistent with the film's themes about equality and rebellion. I appreciated the notion that she was simply the figure who arose from the light in the ongoing balance of the Force. It would have been absurd for Rey to have been descended from an existing character, implying that strength or greatness can only come from lineage and dynasticism. As a narrative choice it also succeeds in undermining the cynicism of the suggestions in The Force Awakens that her parentage was some big secret. The importance she placed in her family derived from her own desire for meaning, not from anything real. It's a perfectly plausible and psychologically comprehensible point of view. If anyone thinks it doesn't explain why the lightsaber affected her in The Force Awakens, our answer is right here: she's the figure essentially thrust into the limelight by the light side of the Force.

How does she make that new outfit for
confronting Kylo and Snoke?

A few other moments stand out for me concerning Rey in the film. The sight of her taking enjoyment in the rain dripping from the side of the Millennium Falcon is a nice reflection upon her desert origins. Her willingness to explore the dark place below the island foreshadows her later hubris. Her eventual meeting with Poe, whom she'd never actually met before, was an entertaining moment. I found it another pleasing visual to see her briefly wielding Kylo Ren's lightsaber, and I appreciated that the struggled to best the Praetorian Guards. Her sequestering of the Jedi texts was an effective touch as well. Overall, I consider the character to have been built upon in more or less entirely the appropriate manner in this instalment.

Kylo Ren

Maybe his scar didn't move. Maybe he got a new one
by turning on the lightsaber too close to his face.

As he and Rey are revealed to be opposites in the Force in this film, Kylo Ren receives a similar amount of attention and development. We are shown more of his doubts and frustrations, his reluctance to destroy more of his family, and yet also his sinister ideology that the past must be destroyed, presumably so that he will no longer be burdened by conflict and regret. Through his communications with Rey we are encouraged to sympathise with Kylo Ren, especially in regards to his abuse by Snoke and his feeling that Luke betrayed him, but at the same time he also reveals what amounts to a desire for order at all costs, clearly born of these feelings of confusion and conflict, which are manifest when he kills his master and assumes the position of Supreme Leader of the First Order at the conclusion of the film.

"I can't believe I paid fifty bucks for this!
The page never said it was child size!"

In this manner, Kylo Ren's story was interesting as a subversion of what we expect from Star Wars. We're used to a fallen character, having been reached out to by a sympathetic figure, destroying his evil master and redeem himself in death. Yet here we see the relationship between dark force users we've been told about in the past but never seen; he kills his master and takes his place. Snoke's gullibility in not realising Kylo's intentions was perfectly executed, in my opinion. Snoke may be powerful, but we can see how absurdly arrogant he is: "I cannot be betrayed." He's completely wrong, like so many others in the film. This film was also interesting in that it eliminated the semi-respectful master-pupil relationship of The Force Awakens and, in the wake of Rey's besting of Ren in the previous film, had Snoke treating his underling with contempt and paying the price. In the previous film, Ren seemed respectful of Snoke: "The Supreme Leader is wise." Deciding to strike back and place himself in a position in which he can impose his own vision upon the galaxy takes the character in a satisfying direction not only as a subversion of what we've seen before but additionally as a logical ambition of such a tormented individual.

"I haven't slept in two days."

My chief criticism of the use of Kylo Ren in the film is simply that we don't get to see enough of what he's doing "in his spare time", as it were. He seems to just be standing around on Snoke's flagship doing nothing. I felt like this made his narrative marginally less effective as a parallel to Rey's; of course it's largely a result of the film's broader structural issues. Ultimately, however, like the heroes, Kylo Ren fails, and despite his rise in rank it's clear to see that his true desires cannot be fulfilled because of the choices he has made; he can never really connect with another person, and he cannot get revenge on the people he thinks let him down. To have him both succeed in, shall I say, a "political" sense while failing personally makes for a compelling villain.

Undoubtedly Freudian.

Luke Skywalker

In the press tour for this film, and beforehand, Mark Hamill has been repeatedly quoted (and perhaps misquoted) as having struggled with the direction in which the film takes the character of Luke, particularly in regards to his former position as hero of the saga. I can relate to this, as Luke is my favourite character of the Original Trilogy, especially in Return of the Jedi, which is one of the reasons it's my favourite of the original three films. To some degree the first time I watched the film I was frustrated that Luke was not simply the character I remembered, albeit older and even wiser. Yet to portray the character as disenchanted and full of self-hatred is an entirely sensible direction to take him, if he is to have any role in the narrative at all. Otherwise he would be little more than a walking, talking instruction manual for Rey, and I must say that while I'm sure Hamill could have managed the Obi-Wan role comfortably, it would not have resulted in a performance nearly as worthwhile as this.

He should have had a little boat
for taking pleasure cruises.

If I am to make any criticism of Luke's story in this film, it's only in regards to what we don't see. The briefest of glimpses we receive of who he was when training young Ben Solo and the other pupils in the time after Return of the Jedi to me appear worthy of cinematic representation in themselves, and it's almost a shame that we couldn't get a film set ten years earlier so that we could actually see with our own eyes Luke's transition from the confident man we knew in days gone by to the crushed figure with which we are presented here. Nonetheless, Luke's "moment of instinct" in which he contemplated slaying Ben for the good of the galaxy is entirely consistent with his character as we saw it in both The Empire Strikes Back and its sequel; we know that there is darkness within him, albeit darkness which passes. In his confrontation with his father and Palpatine, the consequences were ultimately positive. In his confrontation with his nephew, they were not. Here the film continues its arguable interest in narrative realism, despite the fantasy trappings, by disregarding the possibility of happiness-ever-after and instead showing how in life, and time, there is always change, even if the past and future may be familiar. By showing a different outcome to Luke's darker side, the film also furthers its interest in diverging from audience expectations and exploring alternative possibilities to dilemmas we've seen before.

Thinking up more stuff to be
taken out of context.

As with his two main co-stars in his side of the film, Ridley and Driver, Hamill's performance brings value to the film regardless of and beyond the script, pacing and narrative choices. His vocal performance is as rich as would be expected from such an accomplished voice actor, but it is in his physical portrayal of a much changed character that his talent continues to be evident. For much of the film we see the heaviness and emotional exhaustion of a man weighed down by his past, yet at times of need, such as during Rey's communication with Kylo Ren, some of the old strength and confidence emerges; this grows into what might be described as a positive acceptance by the film's end, albeit one mingled with a healthy measure of remorse, "peace and purpose" as Rey puts it. His confrontation with Kylo reminded me of the Luke last properly seen in 1983, but developed. At the same time, Hamill recaptures for a moment the feeling of Luke in his relative immaturity when he is reunited with old friends, particularly Chewie and R2. His scene with Leia is poignant and effectively understated, and his brief reunion with C-3PO perfectly timed and executed. Perhaps my only complaint was that he doesn't get a final scene with Rey, although I suspect we'll see the two of them onscreen again in Episode IX.

"Whaddya mean I'm not the lead?"

This leads me finally to the conclusion given to Luke here. Having Luke die seems almost too similar to the previous film with the death of Han Solo, yet I'd argue that this film succeeds in having him "become one with the Force" in a way even more dignified than that of Obi-Wan and Yoda. Hamill gets one of the film's best lines when he tells Kylo Ren, "Strike me down in anger and I'll always be with you, just like your father," and I can only hope that we see an interpretation of this in the next film; more scenes featuring force ghost Luke with both Kylo Ren and Rey would be welcome if they served their narratives effectively. Unfortunately, with the death of Carrie Fisher, I'd say that even if Lucasfilm didn't intend for Luke to return, they now have a much greater incentive for him to do so in order to keep at least one Original Trilogy star as part of the main cast.

Exactly.

Finn

Finn had to learn to see the bigger picture. After The Force Awakens, he couldn't keep acting like only his and Rey's survival mattered; note that even in this film he's prepared to ditch Poe as well to save Rey. He was able to witness that other people besides himself might be suffering and needed help too. Even in his effort to save the fleet, however, he was unsuccessful, and he is thwarted from sacrificing himself by Rose. Arguably this served the film's overall message of equality and democracy, but many of the elements Finn's story introduced seemed rather incidental to Finn himself. I can't help but feel as if Finn's narrative was one of the less successful elements of the film.

Poe

What a flyboy hothead wildcard daredevil risk-taker.

The same can largely be said of Poe. Did he really need to learn a lesson about trust or keeping a cool head? Perhaps if the idea that a spy or traitor had infiltrated the Resistance was more overtly stated, I could understand his motivations a little more, but his reluctance to follow the chain of command here ultimately came off like a lesson in not being insubordinate, which almost seems to contradict other themes of the film. I also feel like he didn't come across as a disobedient hotshot in the previous film, so I found his behaviour inconsistent here. I feel like, especially if they'd been kept together, a tighter, more focused narrative for both Finn and Poe could have reinforced the film's themes without distracting from the more important storyline.

Other Major Characters

Guess they have a detailed map now.

It's probably worth noting that, despite increasing the representation of women in the film, the characters of Rose and Vice Admiral Holdo only really serve as facilitators of Finn and Poe's respective developments as characters. While Rose served a purpose in representing the downtrodden and their potential to throw off the shackles of oppression, I felt like her line about hate and love to Finn at the end didn't make a great deal of sense. As for Holdo, it almost seemed as if she only existed so that someone other than a recurring character could destroy Snoke's ship at the end. Couldn't autopilot do it? In any event, I found her sacrifice to be contrived and arbitrary. And no, I'm not one of those people who thinks that Admiral Ackbar should have done it. Personally, I wouldn't have bothered killing off Admiral Ackbar, but only Star Wars nerds even know who he is, really, so having a puppet-headed man in a lobster costume piloting the ship would have just come across to general audience as ridiculous, I fear.

I feel sorry for the extras manning
the ropes on that door.

 I should also briefly consider Leia, if only to express that it's a shame we won't get to see more of her. The sudden and striking manifestation of her abilities impressed me, as I've already said, and I have no objections to the scene in which she survived the attack on the bridge. I thought it was another unusual and interesting depiction of what the Force could do. I only wish things could have been different.

"Now that you are here, Rey, I must
inform you and Kylo Ren of a great secret!"

Other Narrative Choices

The Death of Snoke

If any choice in this film has caused controversy among obsessives, who are typically more gently referred to as "fans", it is the decision to simply excise Snoke from the story without any concession to his apparent power or any explanation of his origins. Personally, this never bothered me, as I never found the character interesting in the first place. In fact, I actively disliked the concept of the character, as I've expressed in every post I've written on the topic of The Force Awakens. What Rian Johnson achieves in his script for this film is to fulfil Snoke's role based on everything he can be in this film, and everything he genuinely was in the previous film as well: a plot device which existed to facilitate Kylo Ren's character development. This is all he should ever have been, and fortunately it's all he ends up being.

"What is it, my master?"

I've seen it argued that given his role and power, the audience was owed an explanation of Snoke's origin. Yet as Johnson has pointed out, doing so would have added nothing to the story. He could have been Darth Plagueis, or anyone else for that matter, and it would have meant nothing to Rey and added nothing to how he contributes to Kylo Ren's story. It's more than enough for me to imagine that Snoke was some individual who kept to himself during the time of Palpatine, and saw the emerging First Order as an opportunity to fulfil his own dreams of conquest. It is far better to simply eliminate such a limited and cliché supervillain than allow it to dominate a narrative in which more interesting characters need the opportunity to thrive.

"I am actually, secretly, the person
who gave Grand Admiral Thrawn his first job!"

Similarly, the death of Snoke functions as another iteration of the film's interest in exploring the alternative choice to the scenarios and dichotomies of Star Wars films past. In the Original Trilogy, the Emperor was introduced gradually, first as only a name, then as a hologram, and finally in person. While Snoke did not appear in person in The Force Awakens, he had a number of scenes, which immediately makes him less menacing and mysterious than the Emperor despite his unclear origins. Killing him off deletes that problem. Similarly, it allows the film to explore a past idea in a new way. Vader desired to usurp his master, but never had the opportunity. With Kylo Ren, the narrative now has the opportunity to engage in this storyline, in which the complex, developed villain has ultimate control, not their more archetypal superior.

"Then he didn't learn to be always
prepared from you, then, did he?"

It's admittedly entertaining to play armchair psychologist or sociologist when it comes to discussing the behaviour of fans, or to simply sneer at them, yet the reaction to Snoke's treatment in the film to me seems to encapsulate the essentially superficial nature of the "fandom" of major consumerist franchises. An interest in the background of Snoke of all people suggests to me a misdirected mindset, in which meaningless minutiae about secondary characters and events are more important than a text's success as a piece of storytelling involving the development of key participants. I don't wish to imply that Star Wars is something with more depth and profundity than it really is, or that telling a story was even the priority of a franchise this mercenary, but nonetheless I can't help but feel that wishing for this film to digress about Snoke expresses not only a misunderstanding of this film as a whole, but a misunderstanding of the whole nature of narrative, particularly film narrative, altogether. However, it's probably an attitude that the sci-fi/fantasy/escapism culture industry, of which Star Wars is a major component, has actively cultivated in order to sell merchandise and blandly-written spinoff fiction, and is in a small way now harming itself.

How do the crews see out of
those triangular windows?

The First Order Reigns

This film strives to very noticeably subvert audience expectations by refusing to give the kind of plot twist answers The Force Awakens suggested, at least in regards to Rey's parentage and the importance of Snoke. Yet in many respects, as is perhaps inevitable for a film which follows on from one which so heavily evoked the original Star Wars film, this sequel similarly evokes the sequels to the original. What is also noticeable, however, is how much this film actually appears to be interested in reestablishing the status quo from the Original Trilogy. The First Order, which seemed to be a fringe organisation in the previous film, is here presented as seizing control of the galaxy in much the same manner as the Empire, while the Resistance is reduced to a tiny opposition even referred to as a Rebellion, and the Jedi Order remains nonexistent. I can't help but wonder whether this was intended to establish an ongoing Original Trilogy-like setting which Disney can extend for as long as it is profitable, permitting them to present endless Original-like films in a universe with essentially the same power dynamic as the Original Trilogy. In fact, Luke's correction to Kylo Ren summarises this situation: a reborn Rebellion, an ongoing war which will presumably continue over the long term (for at least a second Sequel trilogy), and future Jedi, but not necessarily many of them.

A franchise to last a thousand years.

To quote the famous paraphrase of Marx, history repeats itself first as tragedy and then as farce. For every great individual of an age, there comes an inferior successor. In the wake of Darth Vader follows Kylo Ren. If the narrative direction of The Last Jedi is representative of anything, whether it comes from genuine inspiration or artistic bankruptcy, it is of the repetitious nature of history. World wars have set the stage for future world wars. Empires are founded in the death throes of empires. The apparent triumph of freedom and democracy has allowed new dictatorships to arise. Events taken on different experience in hindsight compared to how they seemed when they were experienced. Of course, if this state of affairs is perpetuated in fiction endlessly it becomes absurd. If nothing else, The Last Jedi functions as a case study of how consumerist entertainment contributes to society becoming locked in stagnation, and if anything I find that to be an interesting case of probably accidental realism despite recognising its dearth of imagination. 

"It's not about lifting rocks, but that
admittedly is one of its useful features."

Themes and Politics

Failure

The largest similarity this film arguably shares with The Empire Strikes Back is that both narratives represent what leads to failure and its consequences. Failure arises from overconfidence and pride. Its consequences can be dire, destroying lives and ruining opportunities. It must be learned from in order to grow and develop. Some of the characters' failures arguably come across as underdeveloped or arbitrary, particularly Poe's. Others, like those of Rey and Kylo Ren, feel more natural as extensions of existing characterisation. The film argues that one of the biggest instigators of failure is an inability to balance between short- and long-term thinking. This is a reasonably rounded point, and one which appropriately complicates the following themes. 

Democracy and Equality

"It's a planet made of... uh... blood?"

The film also strongly advocates a message that anyone can be great and that anyone can achieve; it's not dependent upon lineage or descent. With hope and inspiration, people can stand up to those who oppress them. This of course may be applied however the audience desires, although one can't help but feel as if a state of oppression in modern politics is largely attributed to the kind of movements and governments which are typically compared to those historical movements which the First Order evokes in visuals and policy. Nonetheless, it's not uncharacteristic, as both the Original and Prequel trilogies reflected the political concerns of their respective eras, with the Empire, the Sith and now the First Order evoking whomever in that context was seen as corrupt and dangerous. In this manner the film also makes a specific target of the military-industrial complex, and how a profit motive can be used to drive any "side" towards conflict. This is a theme which has been relevant for decades, and only suffers in this film due to its connection with the clumsiness of the Canto Bight plot and its distraction from the more spiritual concerns of the better narrative. The weakness, however, of this entire concept is its representation of the emancipation of indentured labour in the form of the stable children, when so much of Lucasfilm and Disney's profits are generated by the exploitation of foreign labour in the third world. In this manner the film borders upon hypocrisy.

Why would the bombs fall towards the dreadnought?
...they'd fall towards the planet, of course.

I criticised Blade Runner 2049 for being too concerned with the political at the expense of the spiritual. The Last Jedi handles these parallel elements somewhat more effectively, with the themes of equality funneling towards the idea of failure and growth, which then flows back towards the concept of democracy. As with everything else, it's purely let down by the clunkiness of the Resistance plot. This is a film which advocates balance, but does not always succeed in attaining balance itself.

"Oh god, let me out of the cinema!"

Conclusion 
The Last Jedi is a long and complex film. It's absolutely flawed, and almost astonishingly compromised in its structural and pacing issues, which surely could have been identified and dealt with over the course of post production. Nonetheless, its strongest elements are, I would argue, the strongest since the Original Trilogy. It's certainly more interesting, in my opinion, than The Force Awakens, and is in some respects a refreshing antidote to some of that film's weaknesses despite having so many of its own. As far as I can tell, there are three main avenues of negativity concerning the film. The first is that the film's pacing is frustrating, Canto Bight is pointless and distracting and the humour is unsuccessful. While I can accept these elements in light of the film's strengths, I can completely understand why they would bother some. The second is that the film simply stagnates, that it's a holding pattern which doesn't really develop the characters in a meaningful way. I think that's possibly true of Poe and to a lesser extent Finn, but I don't see how Rey and Kylo Ren didn't develop. As for the third argument, that the film somehow "ruined" Luke and that it failed by not explaining who Snoke was or making Rey's parents important people, if I'm going to be perfectly honest I think that's an opinion held by obsessives with a completely superficial, consumerist understanding of the potential or purpose of film or storytelling. The Last Jedi is a very imperfect film. Its problems should be recognised and understood, for future reference at the very least. Yet I think its strengths are refreshing and surprising for such a piece of product, especially considering the limitations of what has been offered since Disney's acquisition of the property.

"Star Wars: The Last Jedi": Initial (Baffled) Impressions

The title crawl should have been in red.
That would have really pissed people off.

Another year has come and gone, so the other night I dutifully donned my homemade Emperor Palpatine robes and m'colleague and I trudged off to the cinema to watch another Star Wars film.

I looked like this about halfway through.

I have to admit that, despite my criticism of The Force Awakens, I was quite eager for The Last Jedi. I'd gotten it into my head that Rian Johnson was the right man for the job, and that what he was going to deliver would be a solid, satisfying Star Wars outing which would probably be a bit better than The Force Awakens. We'd have Rey and Luke, Finn and Poe, some action, and a set up for things to come. I wasn't as hyped as I might have been, but I was ready to watch a Star Wars film which would leave me thinking that what I'd just seen was a sci-fi action film which would be a worthwhile addition to the Star Wars rewatch cycle along with the despecialised editions of the Original Trilogy and the occasional touch upon Episode VII.

This'll be exciting in the finished film, right?

That's not quite what I actually got, and if I am to give The Last Jedi credit for anything, it ought to be for the fact that it surprised me. This was overtly not J.J. Abrams' Star Wars, almost wholly lacking the slavish devotion to George Lucas' narrative style and cinematography which dominated Episode VII. The Last Jedi in many respects feels like its own beast, although admittedly at times it feels, like its predecessor, like a remix of its equivalent episode in the Original Trilogy. This, I think, is what made The Last Jedi challenging for me, and at first viewing ultimately somewhat disappointing, as I juddered back and forth between thinking "This is a bold take on things" and "What the hell am I watching?!"

Tosses the tone over his shoulder too.

My initial reaction is that The Last Jedi is an overly-long, rambling, unfocused, confused mess of a film which doesn't fully appreciate its own strengths and is torn between two parallel narratives, one which is fundamentally engaging and another which is intrinsically tedious. This is a result of a problem with pacing and structure which makes the film suffer substantially. The film regularly snaps back and forth between Rey and Luke scenes on the planet Ahch-To, which I found engrossing, and Finn and Poe stuff with the Resistance fleet, which over time bored me to tears, and as I often say about films regarding which I have mixed feelings, this is a game of halves.

"What should I do with Kylo Ren in the middle acts?"
"I dunno, stick him in a room for hours."

It's my impression from one viewing that, as both director and screenwriter, Rian Johnson comes across as overwhelmed, trying to give a substantial narrative to all of his growing cast of major characters: Rey, Finn, Poe, Kylo Ren, Leia and Luke, as well as newcomer Rose, and whether of his own volition, or mandated by Lucasfilm/Disney, the film ultimately fails to wholly recognise that it is only Rey and Luke's story (and by extension Kylo Ren's) which is especially interesting or substantial. This is particularly egregious in the final act of the film in which Rey, notionally our main protagonist, almost disappears, being relegated to manning Luke's old firing position on the Millennium Falcon rather than actively participating in the plot. That's not to say that the ending isn't about Luke and Kylo Ren, but it has a particular insistence at the same time in focusing on the Resistance, as represented by Poe, Finn and Leia, a narrative which in my view wasn't the crux of what the film explored most effectively: not the idea of resistance, but rather of balance. I particularly wondered as I watched whether the depiction of the First Order as an unstoppable tyranny, despite being crippled at the conclusion of the previous film, was some kind of political statement reflecting  the popular conception that "the bad guys are running America" at the moment, which is arguably true in a greater-or-lesser-of-two-evils sense, but feels inconsistent with the previous instalment and almost exhausting; if the First Order is still so strong, and the Resistance so utterly weak, it's hard for me to care. I want to avoid delving into hypotheticals in this article, but I can't help but feel as if the narrative would be more interesting if it was more microscopic in scale, with the conflict limited to a small section of the galaxy and the belief that even the most remote and seemingly-unimportant part would be worth fighting for if its freedom was threatened.

Was he not played up as much in the
promotion for this one?

The fact is that the film is a bombardment, much like a First Order dreadnought firing lasers at the Reistance fleet, with a plot which seems to take place over the course of about seven acts and is constantly assailing the viewer with new elements and situations; calling them developments might be overstating matters. I was constantly wavering between deep interest, particularly when Rey and Luke were onscreen, and complete bewilderment whenever we returned to Finn and Rose or Poe, wondering why their plot needed to exist at all, why I should care about it and when it would get back to the half of the story which I found interesting. Another thing which occurred to me is that this feels less like an Episode in its own right and more like a followup to The Force Awakens, especially in the reuse of settings and the close connection of the two narratives, which leaves me feeling like there should be another couple of films rather than just one. Who knows? Perhaps there will be if the Disney accountants have anything to say about it. Perhaps this trilogy will bleed into Sequel Trilogy II.

Let's cut the rest of the fat and get to what I liked and didn't like.

What I Didn't Like

1. The Resistance Plot

Stay in the pod, Finn!

As I've established, I simply wasn't interested in the large percentage of the narrative devoted to the Resistance fleet trying to escape from the First Order. This element, depicted equivalently in the first act of The Empire Strikes Back, here covers almost the entirety of the film. It reached the point in which it became utterly absurd, in my view, that the two fleets were pursuing each other through space seemingly in first gear, with neither side able to catch up to or outrun the other for reasons which weren't clear to me. I understood that the fleet couldn't jump away without being caught again, but why was it so hard for the First Order to simply catch up to the Resistance and blow them out of the sky? They have a ship the size of a small country, but they don't have the technology to go a little bit faster than their enemies?

Dead Phasma toys: only $9.99 each.

Somehow, the course of this pursuit gives Finn and Rose time to go to a completely different planet, find help and come back. Furthermore, after it's over, following multiple scenes of devastation on the part of First Order battleships, Finn and Rose going to a casino, Finn, Rose and Benicio del Toro going to the First Order flagship and getting captured, BB-8 driving an AT-ST and hyperdrive ships slicing other ships, the Resistance lands at a giant bunker which looks like a snow plow to have yet another fight with the First Order. By this point I couldn't believe how long the extended conflict between the two parties was going for. It was just too much. If this had been, say, half an hour of the film it would have been tolerable, but it dominates it, and distracts needlessly from the film's strongest elements.

If only he'd stayed dead.

I also didn't particularly enjoy Poe's character arc in this. In The Force Awakens he came across as a fairly pragmatic combatant who was, for instance, prepared to abandoned the Jakku village if it meant he could keep the map from the First Order. Here he just seems like some cocky try-hard who can't take orders and needs to learn a lesson about leadership. Was it really necessary? Oddly enough, despite liking the character in The Force Awakens, in this film I found him a bit annoying.

Monkeyshines.

2. Too Much Humour

Obviously Star Wars is pretty lighthearted at times, and the Original Trilogy has plenty of memorable one-liners, but The Last Jedi is somewhat overwhelming in this regard, starting with a joke featuring Poe pretending he can't hear Hux over the radio and only becoming bigger from there. Hux looks like a complete buffoon, Luke plays practical jokes and delivers snarky one-liners, Finn and Rose exchange quips and so on to the point at which it's hard to take anything seriously. It feels like they took Poe's brief piss-taking of Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens, and a few sarcastic Han lines and excited Finn remarks, and blew them completely out of proportion in this script. I'm a miserable, joyless, self-hating, lonely, jaded wretch, but give me a break. The audience in the cinema was laughing it up, though, so I guess it hit the right spot for some. My biggest issue was that Luke came across as too flippant and dismissive a lot of the time, and insufficiently consistent with the character we last saw in Return of the Jedi.

Luke's Star Wars: The Card Game set.

3. The Best Stuff is Not Fleshed Out Enough

So Luke's a recluse who wants the Jedi Order to die, Rey and Kylo Ren have developed a telepathic link, Leia can survive a hard vacuum and the Force still needs balancing. These are all interesting elements of the film, but they just don't get the attention they need to really satisfy. There are conversations between Luke and Rey about the Force and the Jedi which are too short and leave us begging for more. Meanwhile, when Rey is communicating with Kylo Ren, we don't have a good sense of what Ren is doing at the time in order to contextualise his experience of this link. He just seems to be standing around in a room. We get some philosophising about the Force, including a surprise appearance from Yoda, but it's all glossed over in a few short scenes. If we'd spent less time mucking around with Finn in Casino Night Zone and the Resistance and First Order fleets participating in the slowest car chase of all time, I feel as if the screenplay could have really come to grips with these elements, which instead to me felt rushed and incomplete, as if we were only seeing edited highlights of something more complex and profound.

"Steady, Dack. Attack pattern delta."

4. Lack of Atmosphere

Just a small thing, but when we met Snoke for instance I felt like there was very little sense of tension and presence. It was similar with Rey being around Luke, I suppose. Something in the cinematography and sound design at these points made me feel distant rather than immersed, as if I were watching the film through a window in another room. Perhaps that was an effect of exhaustion and Irish whisky, but I can't help but feel that a trick was missed at some of the notionally most awe-inspiring moments of the film. Then again, perhaps it was deliberate, as I'll detail in the next section.

What I Did Like

1. Spins on ideas set up in The Force Awakens

Phone home.
...I've never seen E.T.

Who's Snoke? Just an arrogant, overconfident idiot with delusions about how much control he really has, like the Emperor but even more foolish and blind. Who were Rey's parents? Nobody important. What has Luke realised in his time away? That the Jedi were selfish hypocrites. All this stuff seemed fairly bold to me, with Rian Johnson slicing through all the "mystery box" bullshit set up by Abrams in the previous film. The answers are straightforward and convincing. Killing off Snoke in particular was a sensible and gutsy move, preventing him from seeming entirely like a rehash of the Emperor (although he still kind of is; he's just a shittier version of the Emperor, basically). Here I wonder if the lack of atmosphere was deliberate, so that we could recognise that Snoke was not all that he seemed. Establishing that Rey's parents were nobodies is a refreshing touch of realism. In this respect, the film seems like an antidote to the more egregious rumour-mongering elements of Episode VII, which only really existed because of the famed twists from the Original Trilogy.

The lightsaber kind of looks like a plastic tube in this scene.

2. Rey and Luke

Although we didn't see enough of them, both of these character were welcome. I still think Daisy Ridley's Rey is the best part of the new Trilogy, despite the fact that I think she could have come across as a little more aware of the nature of Luke's successes and failures and how they could be applied to her own experience. I suppose she possesses a little hubris, which ultimately is another way in which aspects of this film echo both The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, as the film is somewhat like Luke's motivation in Jedi with Empire's outcome: tries to turn villain back to the light but fails.

Good thing he didn't really quit voicing the Joker.

Mark Hamill is entertaining as Luke, and although at times I thought he came across as too dry and jaded, he fitted well enough into the role of a character who has been scarred by his experiences. In particular, the cool confidence Luke presents in Return of the Jedi is gone for much of this, replaced by self-awareness and resignation. In his final confrontation with Kylo Ren, however, much of the strength of Luke in his prime re-emerges, as we see Rey re-ignite something of his faith. This would all have been improved if the film had simply had more time to devote to these characters. I'm almost reminded of the Hobbit films, which became endlessly distracted from Bilbo in an effort to be more epic. In this, I feel like the film keeps wandering away from its titular Last Jedi (singular or plural), which is frustrating, but when they're around they're generally worthwhile. I criticised the lack of "atmosphere" surrounding Luke, but again, perhaps it was deliberately to make his later scenes more satisfying. This would have worked better if we'd seen more.

"My nose still hurts."

3. Kylo Ren

Dildo Ren was a bit more interesting in this than he was in the previous, particularly in his Force-based conversations with Rey, in which they test each others' character. With all this stuff it's not contextualised or developed to its fullest extent, but it's still interesting. In particular, we gain a more complex insight into his backstory, thinking that Luke betrayed him and establishing his Vader-like desire not just for power but for order, and this is played upon by showing him, unlike Vader, killing his master in order to seize control. We're left wondering where the narrative can go next, which I suppose is as good a selling point for Episode IX as any. I liked the idea of Ren usurping Snoke's place as Supreme Leader of the First Order; it's noteworthy that when he tells Rey that they need to dispose of the past, he collectively refers to the Sith and the Jedi, but only to the Resistance in isolation, establishing that he cares more about the ideology of the First Order than might otherwise appear.

4. Leia can breathe in space

She still didn't hug Chewie.
...oh wait, yeah she did.

A lot of people didn't like this element, apparently, but I thought it was kinda cool. She's meant to be strong with the force, albeit untrained. Why shouldn't she survive being blasted into a hard vacuum? I only wish that I understood better her role in the plot overall. It was pretty obvious that she wouldn't be killed so abruptly on the bridge, although I fear that this sequence was intended to set up Episode IX elements which will no longer be possible to fulfill.

"Gawsh, this Jedi training is rrrather
different to what I expected, eh what?"

Conclusion

I still don't know where I stand with The Last Jedi. Was it an occasionally-good blockbuster which is receiving rave reviews because it's full of big explosions, corny one-liners and over-egged "cool" moments to please the dummies, or is it subtler than I'm giving it credit for and warrants more viewings? Perhaps it's a little of both. Perhaps I'm no different to the Original Trilogy fanboys walking devastated from the cinema in 1999 because they didn't get exactly what they imagined in the preceding years. Maybe the film's composition is meant to represent its themes, with the balance between light and dark being reflected in the balance between interesting reflection upon the franchise and mindless slush. On the other hand, maybe it won't bear that much scrutiny. Perhaps only time and an endless cavalcade of better or worse Disney Star Wars films will tell.

So anyway, do the Jedi need to die out or not? Luke thought so, and Yoda seemed to agree with him, but then at the end Luke seemed satisfied that Rey would allow the Jedi to continue on. I'm sure there's some deep and detailed explanation buried deep in the film...

Do Wookiees age in reverse? He looks
a lot more sleek than he did in '77.

Blade Runner 2049

Hot new feature! Instead of exerting the energy required to read the review, why not listen to me read it to you with limited enthusiasm instead?

He should have found a turtle.

A slow, pointless rehash of the slow, overanalysed original, in Blade Runner 2049 Ryan Gosling gets shot, stabbed, punched by Harrison Ford, blown up and forced to recite poetry, he makes out with a hologram, burns an innocent man's house down, drowns a woman in the back of a waterlogged car, wades through urban sprawl, junkyards, wastelands and two and a half hours of droning Hans Zimmer bombast, and eventually dies of sheer boredom and the odour of Harrison Ford's sweaty t-shirt.

Right, now that I've got the facetious version out of the way, let's get to the real review.

It's not a real sequel 'cause none
of these got squeezed out.

I have to admit that, despite natural cynicism, aspects of Blade Runner 2049's marketing campaign worked on me, particularly the teaser. Seeing our new protagonist, Ryan Gosling's Officer K, in an orange-tinted wasteland led me to imagine that we were going somewhere new in this far-removed sequel, perhaps to see something different. The full trailer impressed me less, as it seemed to be going down a dramatic route which didn't seem particularly unusual, but I was willing enough to see the film.

What if there's a big crowd on the bridge?

Probably the best compliment I can give to Blade Runner 2049 is that it feels like a strong sequel to a slightly different film. I rewatched Blade Runner a few days before seeing this, specifically the Final Cut, and having not watched the film in its entirety for probably ten years I was reminded most strongly of how abstract and dreamlike its tone is. The score by Vangelis is a major contributor to this, of course, but the cinematography, including long, lingering shots, and the performances, intentionally or otherwise, also create a haziness and distance which focus the viewer primarily on the ideas the film is contemplating, rather than a strong narrative, which the original notoriously lacks. As a result, I found myself feeling increasingly convinced that making an authentic-feeling sequel to Blade Runner was impossible, that the characters and setting did not and could not exist outside the boundaries of the text; the film accomplishes what it sets out to do, and is complete. That's not to say that the film is perfect; it is probably slower than necessary at points and arguably suffers from a seemingly-uninterested performance by Harrison Ford and a lack of onscreen chemistry between him and Sean Young, which makes the relationship between Deckard and Rachael less interesting than it might otherwise be. Nonetheless the excellent visuals and score and the performances of the replicant characters, particularly Rutger Hauer as Roy Batty, are very compelling.

Probably paid over $5,000,000
per minute he was in the film.

A good sequel preferably expands upon or investigates new possibilities suggested by the original, rather than simply rehashing what happened before, and it's to Blade Runner 2049's limited credit that Ryan Gosling's K is not simply hunting down a fresh batch of rogue replicants, perhaps with the assistance of Harrison Ford's Deckard. Rather, he is investigating a possibility of replicants becoming capable of natural reproduction, a situation which would threaten the humans' dominance over them while simultaneously resolving their new manufacturer's supply problems. Despite the fact that this is, ultimately, heavily related to Deckard and Rachel's story from the original, it is certainly a different direction. The extent to which we ought to give the film credit for avoiding this fairly obvious pitfall is, however, worth bearing in mind.

I heard that to prepare for the role he bred
a family of artificial humans and killed them all.

To the same extent, that direction itself is arguably less compelling than that of the original, in that while the 1982 film's topic of interest is fundamentally existential, Blade Runner 2049 is to a greater extent political, and while there is of course no bad time to warn of the potential technological advancement has to enslave us, or to create new slaves, I can't help but feel that this new film's concerns are ultimately more mundane than the first. This perhaps is appropriate given how much more grounded the sequel feels compared to the original, but also suffers in terms of the relative lack of attention it receives, as the idea of the abuse and suffering of the expendable replicants is only touched upon lightly until the concept of an underground replicant resistance is, in my view, clumsily inserted into the film in the final act. This left me, at least, thinking about the political ruminations of the film despite the fact that so much is devoted rather to the growing inner life of the protagonist, Officer K.

Not Emma Stone?

Ryan Gosling generally has a solid reputation and I feel like he was an appropriate casting choice for this role. K's story is certainly interesting, although I can't help but wonder how much it retreads that of both Rachael and Roy Batty in the original, particularly in his search for truth and meaning in his life. As such, probably the most engaging part I found to be the relationship between K, who is a replicant, and his hologram companion, Joi, to the extent that I started to think as I watched that a film about a relationship between two artificial life forms would make for a better film than a story about replicants being able to have babies. That being said, anti-replicant prejudice must be pretty bad if, in this world, even Ryan Gosling would need to purchase an electronic girlfriend.

At least banning plastic bags helped a bit.

K's character development is effective, as he transitions from a law enforcement killing machine to a man in fear for his life to one who is disappointed when his subconscious desire to be "special" is thwarted, to finally making a choice and acting to help others, although I'm not entirely convinced of how striking the resolution is. It's the steps in between which are arguably more memorable and perhaps not followed through to the extent that they could be. Are we really that surprised when K, a man of the law, decides to save Deckard from off-world torture so that he can be reunited with his lost daughter? For me, at least, it lacks the impact of Roy Batty's decision to save Deckard's life at the end of the original. Given that we only see K retire one replicant in the course of the entire film, the narrative appears to be drawn in morally simpler terms than the original, which ties back to the political angle of the plot. Despite the strength of Gosling's performance in particular, this made the film to me feel equal parts redundant and simplistic in light of the original. Perhaps I would perceive this differently if this was not a sequel, but it is. It's worth noting that K's serial number and his nickname, Joe, both evoke the protagonist of Kafka's The Trial, which arguably has more in common with the tone and atmosphere of the original Blade Runner than this sequel.

If this reminds you primarily of Fallout: New Vegas,
you need to read and watch more stuff.

The strengths of the film, beyond the performances, are primarily visual. Part of my homework for this film, besides watching the original, was watching two of Denis Villeneuve's recent works of apparent relevance: the 2016 sci-fi film Arrival, and the 2013 psychological thriller Enemy. This film is consistent with Villeneueve's strengths at creating atmosphere, suspense and a feeling of unease, although as I've said I think the atmosphere of the original is more fascinating. While I believe the film has been criticised for being too slow, I personally found it to be paced quite well, the lingering camerawork matching K's confusion and blunted emotional state. The film also takes us beyond the rain-swept LA to a protein farm, junkyard San Diego, snowbound Southern California, and atomic wasteland Vegas. In all honesty I feel as if these settings, particularly the Vegas one, deserved more use, and that the film ultimately spent too much time retreading the streets of LA and the Tyrell building in particular. I still don't believe they gel with the atmosphere of the original, but they're interesting enough on their own. The most dubious visual is probably the elaborate means used to depict Rachael in the film with the appearance of 1982 Sean Young. One could make the excuse that she's meant to look fake, but that doesn't really change the fact that she doesn't look like the real deal, and in the wake of this, Rogue One and the increasing number of films which try to reuse the likenesses of older or even dead actors I suspect we have a glut of trips down memory lane ahead of us.

"Who are we again? Am I a replicant?"

The film's soundtrack is adequate, but apart from a few moments in Vegas, for instance, I don't think Hans Zimmer brought too much to the plate. His trademark, now cliché, droning fits this film to a degree and is used with more flair than in other features, but it can't compare to the original's Vangelis compositions. It's noteworthy that the most musically memorable moment in the film is during the scene at the end featuring K lying down on the steps, during which Vangelis' 'Tears in Rain' track from the original plays, linking K with Roy Batty. This somewhat emphasises to me, however, the extent to which K simultaneously has to fulfil the roles from the original of Deckard, Rachael and Roy, exemplifying the dearth of well-developed original characters in the film.

"Two. Two. Four. And noodles."

As I've said, the performances are all strong, but new faces including Luv, Joshi and Mariette don't have much to do as characters despite each having a number of scenes. If anything I think Luv is overused, underwritten or both. Jared Leto's Wallace is effective in the two scenes in which he appears, but in my opinion was too openly evil as a character compared to the polite hollowness of Tyrell from the original. Dave Bautista gives a very different performance to how I'm used to seeing him, as Drax in Guardians of the Galaxy, and I could have seen more of him, and the character of Ana Steline was similarly well-realised as someone who appears to be a detective-story side character who takes on greater importance later. Edward James Olmos has a nice cameo as Gaff which perhaps reminds too much of the strength of the original film. Harrison Ford was, in my opinion, better in this than in another recent reprisal, The Force Awakens, but despite the greater range I felt he conveyed, nonetheless I didn't see him as Deckard, as he lacks the languor of the character as originally portrayed. Of course he might change over thirty years, but it'd be nice to see something of the original character still in there. It might be argued that his original performance was lacking, but as it suits the tone of the original, I missed it in this.

Part time.

Blade Runner has been criticised for its limited narrative, but I would argue that Blade Runner 2049 does too much to avert this. As I've said, the story seems to offer less room for meditation upon loftier subject matters, and given the strength of the visuals and some set pieces I'll discuss in a moment, it almost becomes a distraction. Certainly, by the time K found Deckard, and perhaps earlier, I felt that the iris of the narrative started to narrow more and more, taking the film in a direction which I thought risked becoming too formal and too structured in contrast to the best parts of the film when the stoic K stalks through the collapsing world around him.

I think she's in the film more than Ryan Gosling.

In this regard, another of the film's strengths are a number of visually or dramatically pleasing moments which stand out amid their surroundings. These include a scene in which Joi uses Mariette as a physical presence to allow her to be more intimate with K, and sequences in which K is obliged to take a baseline test to confirm his emotional detachment from his mission. It's noteworthy that while these serve K's characterisation, they seem like distant memories by the time the film leaves Las Vegas, at which it becomes a routine sequence of secret societies, interrogations, a climactic battle and an emotional departure. The final punch-up and drowning of Luv in Wallace's car is strikingly shot, but again pales somewhat compared to the confrontation between Deckard and Roy in the original, and it significantly shows how little characterisation Luv is afforded despite appearing in the film so much.

You wouldn't know he was a wrestler
if it wasn't for his tiny head.

It's probably worth pointing out as well that when the film focuses too greatly on its own plot, that plot shows limits. For instance, Joshi takes K completely at his word that he has eliminated the child, presumably simply because replicants are believed to not be able to lie. The question of why the child's records were doubled was not resolved as far as I could tell, although I may have missed something. It's not clear why Wallace needs to have Deckard sent to an off-world facility for further interrogation when he seems to be able to act with impunity on Earth. Furthermore, K simply states that Deckard will appear to have died in the car crash at the end even though there is no body. I was somewhat amused by the lines from Wallace which touch upon the "Deckard is a replicant" idea, implying that he was intended to couple with Rachael by nature or design, although it reminded me substantially of Alex Garland's 2015 film Ex Machina in which a character was manipulated in a highly similar manner. As I've said, the appearance of a replicant resistance movement also seemed trite and clumsily-included to me, an element out of place in the disaffected world of Blade Runner. Oh, and I guessed that the remains discovered at the beginning would be Rachael's bones almost as soon as they appeared. At least K turned out, in the end, to not be the child, which would have been much too neat and convenient. I appreciated that.

Rather than 'Joe', she should have started
calling him 'Special K'.

Perhaps my impression of Blade Runner 2049 has been excessively coloured by the original, but I think that comparisons are only fair when a film utilises not only cast and creative minds but even archive audio and footage from the earlier text. The fact is, Blade Runner 2049 is a very solid, nice-looking, well-performed, reasonably engaging science-fiction film, but I think it was always doomed in trying to be a sequel to the original. If anything it reminded me of how much I like the original, despite how flawed it is, and how much I'd appreciate a return to that kind of filmmaking. This shouldn't take away from the new film's strengths, and it probably merits a rewatch, but I can't help but feel like this piece, given its reheated elements and box office performance, is most strongly embodied by the duplicate Rachael who gets rejected and shot.