JJ Abrams, 2019, USA
Screenplay: Chris
Terrio & JJ Abrams,
Story: Terrio, Abrams,
Derek Connolly, Colin Trevorrow
JJ Abrams leapfrogs
over the apparently contentious ‘The Last Jedi’ (Rian Johnson, 2017) to
conclude the ‘Star Wars’ saga (so far) in an empty barrage of apparent Greatest
Hits. By this stage, it’s just a homage to itself until it’s self-cannibalising,
but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. From the start, everything is set and
edited at a life-or-death pace, the kind that ‘Hot Fuzz’ parodied to such
hilarious effect. This quickly becomes dull, rendering suspense insubstantial. Narrative
relies upon pace and tone and, aside from some tokenistic bids for emotional
engagement, ‘The Rise of Skywalker’ is nearly all the same for two-and-a-half
hours. It just won’t settle down to let me enjoy it. And when it does, it offers
thin character interaction.
It starts with Kylo Ren
in mid-lightsabre-fight and seems scared to even slow down for a minute as that
might show how flimsy it all is. But you see, it isn’t: whatever shortcomings I
may personally feel ‘Star Wars’ to possess – which doesn’t mean that I
don’t enjoy it, just that super-fandom perplexes me and I have to make huge
allowances to do so – there’s no doubt that its universe is considerable and resilient.
For example: any of my criticisms about specific details will be easily refuted
by fans submerged in its mythology and/or moving goalposts. For the record, I
think Harmy’s “despecialised” versions of the original trilogy are gorgeous and
impressive, restoring the “wow!” factor of the original series where spaceship
models, shiny robots, muppety aliens and memorable hardware delight even as
almost every line of dialogue spoken by the good guys is cringe-worthy. For me,
it will be Lucas’ ‘THX1138’ that I truly admire, and the difference between
that film’s frightening future shock, dark humour, satire and the ‘Stars
Wars’ ‘Flash Gordon’ version of science-fiction is such a stark contrast.
But ‘Star Wars’
is equally strong world-building, as overflowing with details as ‘THX 1138’ is
bleak. In fact, for me, Lucas’ true masterstroke is allowing others to take it
and run with the extended universe. My main criticism here with ‘The Rise of
Skywalker’ is of presentation and execution, not content. I couldn’t find
the fun in it. Even ‘The Force Awaken’ gave me a “wow” moment when the
TIE fighters appeared. For me ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ and ‘Rogue
One’ work best (the Scarif finale is equal to the Hoth sequence). I found
‘Solo’ far more agreeable and fun because it wasn’t trying so hard and, for
all it’s production problems, it gave the impression that someone cared even if
it was no more than diverting.
Nothing lingers in ‘The
Rise of Skywalker’, nothing really feels like it is gaining substance. Nothing seems to last for more than thirty seconds.
Chewbacca dead! No he’s not. Here’s a gigantic once-in-42-years alien festival –
for about a blink. C3PO’s memory wiped (except, somehow, his basic programming
of being annoying and camp remains). No it's not. Po’s old flame is threatening
to kill him one minute and giving him a valuable deux ex machina five minutes
later. Oh, and here's Lando. And that’s all in the first half. JJ Abrams is all
promise and no delivery.
Now you don’t go to ‘Star
Wars’ for dialogue or acting: they seem essentially to have two modes of
exposition and squabbling. Although John Boyega’s natural charm does shine
through despite everything. But there’s a recklessness with the story that make
its flaws hard to ignore. It’s all:
· here! Now here!
· Now this! No: this!
· Chase
after a MacGuffin!
· Tokenistic
emotional moment with swelling strings and famous ‘Star Wars’ musical
motif.
· Sometimes
characters respond like fanboys. “They can fly now?!” Really? Doesn’t Boba Fett
have a jet pack? Why would flying be so surprising in this technologically
advanced world?
But that’s indicative that
fans think about thoroughly about the follow-through and logic than this finished
product (I don’t want to say the writers because there can be a lot of distance
between script and screen and there are four credited with story here). It’s a
franchise whose minutiae has been scrutinised to death. I have seen technical arguments
about the abilities of the spacecraft, for example.
But to give an example of
the free-for-all somewhat carelessness of JJ Abrams’ ‘Star Wars’: surely
one of the misguided additions to the mythology is giving Stormtroopers
backstory. When I was a child, I thought Stormtroopers were androids and was
disappointed when I discovered their design by Andrew Ainsworth, which I loved,
was just a suit. Now we have discovered that these First Order soldiers are forcibly
conscripted kids and this bid to humanise them creates further conflict. When
things do slow in ‘Rise’, we hear tales of Stormtrooper mutiny, which only
thickens this moral conflict. How are we now to respond when our good guys mow
down and blow up Stormtroopers? Are we to just shrug off Stormtrooper humanity
and the injustice of their history? And when we’re thinking about it, what about
innocent prisoners in exploding spaceships? Sometimes, giving backstories just
create more questions and issues because you start to pick at details. It’s the
kind of lacunae that ‘Clerks’ derived much humour from, but it does
serve a purpose. (This giving backstory is a sorry contemporary trend: I mean,
who cares about Bond’s childhood?) JJ Abrams’ ‘Star Wars’ doesn’t really
have the agenda to deal with moral quandary so that time spent on this subplot
feels like misjudgement and ill-thought through. Or another indication of
carelessness. ‘Rogue One’ is where you go for a greyer kind of ‘Star
Wars’.
And on top of all, the
Force can do anything, really, Good and Evil, where a single individual can
hinder a huge spaceship take-off, or raise an entire fleet or stop a Rebel
attack, so what’s to worry? But even in the original ‘Star Wars’ with
Ben Kenobi it was established that death of key characters was an arbitrary
thing. ‘The Last Jedi’ probably hit a nadir with Leia fake-out space-death.
And then there’s the superficial manner in which Han Solo’s death was dealt
with where its full implications were just shrugged off and Chewie grieved for
about a minute. But don’t worry: there’ll be ghost-cameos (And Han’s cameo doesn’t
seem to be a Force-ghost, just a ghost-ghost?). But. Yeh, considering The Dark
Side can raise a fleet of Star Destroyers with a rising hand and a growling
voice, that it can allow a single person to directly interfere with an ongoing Rebel
attack with some finger-lightning, I’m not sure Good ultimately winning through
some light-sabre action truly convinces. The Force is the point where blind
religious conviction that Faith can give you X-Men powers meets narrative deux
ex machina.
Eh, there’s a lot of
special effects but it’s all so rapid that nothing truly leaves a mark, despite
the number one enjoyment of ‘Star Wars’ being its hardware and world-building.
Even ‘The Force Awakens’ had that. And so, a general sense that there’s
no care for details or pacing pervades, making cynicism set in so that the
pulpy silliness can’t be overlooked for sheer enjoyment. Because there’s a general
air of indifference and therefore condescension.
Of course, the simplicity
of ‘Star Wars’ is a part of its durability and it’s very much Goodies and
Baddies-with-British accents. This is no interrogation of fascism, although it
does give it an instantly recognisable John Williams marching theme. However,
its distillation of tired tropes jazzed up with technology, aliens and
backstory makes it a treasure trove for sci-fi wonder and key to its rabid
fandom. That Good-and-Evil pretence was muddied a little by ‘Rogue One’
and has ultimately become subservient to weightless action. ‘Star Wars’,
in the end, reached a stage of simultaneously being over-complicated and, in
this case, careless. And therefore unsatisfying.
Its most
satisfying surprises are in the playful use of sound: Valentin has a nightmare
of sounds, for example, or the sudden appearance of ‘Pennies of Heaven’
on the soundtrack. The formal play with the medium produces other treats, such
as the frames-per-minute slowing when a reel of celluloid is being looked at. And
it’s both this knowingness and uncritical recreation of the era that surely
makes it a favourite. It’s charming and winning and carefully made. There’s an
overall sense of goodwill that, even if it is guilty by omission of any deeper
concerns (such as class and equality), it’s not that film. 
