The Force Sleeps

Rating: 4/10 (22 December 2019)

A spoiler-heavy review lay before you with a proper dose of ambiguity just in case you'd actually like to be talked out of seeing STAR WARS Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker.
Imagine you're writing a novel. You have every opportunity at your fingertips (as soon as you break writer's block). Endless inspiration all around you. Countless sources have come before you just sitting there to be picked, good fruits and plenty of bad. There's an oft-written simple guide, almost so simple in rule, it begs to be cheated and broken. It goes like this...
The first two words of each chapter do not, will not, and should not be "and then..."
And then...do NOT write "and then."
Use..."however..." or "meanwhile..."
As children, we'll write our little stories, stories that do not deserve to be nurtured, but beg to be understood so as to be grown into better stories later in life. The never-ending story from my five-year-old is glued together by countless "and thens." We must learn the rules of basic communication to break them with humor, irony, and most importantly, wonder, if we're ever to truly be heard.
It appears these children are merely making deadlines. (Deadline: Noun. Meaning: Money). They run studios as people who grew up with Star Wars, but have rejected all the growing up.
There was one moment, and only one, that made "The Rise of Skywalker" worthy of an honorable mention, and it's the only reason I write this at all. "I love you."
These three words granted us one of the most iconic responses in movie history, from the cowboy in the original sequel to the space-western opera that is "Star Wars."
It went like this, Han Solo is going to uncertain doom (a sorely missed feeling in the latest episode, for here there is just nothing at stake, proving Star Wars is no better than Marvel movies from Scorsese's opinion). Leia tells him she loves him. Han responds "I know."
"I love you" is not said here son to father. It is unspoken. "I know," though, coming from father to son, tells us exactly what we need to hear. It is the only moment where the force is not only used, but given to the audience. We know Ben Solo feels it, too. And his fate is sealed. He will prove that Rey is more than her blood.
However, the aim of this flick seems merely to prove the power of "The Last Jedi." Not Rey, but that last episode that was so disappointing to fans that calls for its removal from canon were passionately made.
And then...
Oh, it gets worse than "and then."
We have "oh wait, real quick..."
We have "Almost forgot to mention..."
We even experience several "This has all been for nothing..."
And that's the slap in the face Star Wars fans needed. Wake up, there's been a mistake, we have nothing to add. We must further complete a Saga. We must beat a dead horse (or whatever those angry long-haired things were).
The missed opportunity.
You're writing your novel, and your backstory must be established to recognize what your main character means to the already-cemented universe you've created. What you don't realize is that there's an intimate story of family versus the system. Family battles the generations before them. These stories are plentiful in the histories of all cultures. Much like "loner cinema," where the hero discovers a larger order (in this case, we have come from the First Order to the Final Order) of all things. They explore themselves, always themselves, to learn that they are unique and outside the order. Everyone else is a device, certainly not a "real" character. The emotion must come from our main character.
And this is a hit to the heart of the fans...our main characters, our emotional centers (and seemingly first billed), are
treated like throwaway minor details.
Why are you writing this story?
You have a wonderful backstory, and a fearful villain. The Emperor! He strikes back. Again. This story is unused, only alluded to, seemingly forced upon the writers. The emotion is not even accessible as elaboration would be wasted in the overall structure of the story.
And it's this structure that makes "Star Wars Episode 9" suffer. The old trick playfully used in "Return of the Jedi," switching story lines to relieve any chance of boredom, is forced upon us here. This is certainly not the force awakened in "The Force Awakens." That film takes its time, with ambiguity to spare. This gives us a sense of wonder, the magical feeling that John Williams maximizes better than anyone.
Not here. Not even John Williams has the chance. I couldn't even tell if he was behind the orchestra as his themes are used for "big" moments only to remind us we're watching a Star Wars film.
And I honestly couldn't tell.
Nowhere did we have the Yoda moment from "The Last Jedi" to allow us to breathe and know everything would be okay and that we are in Jedi territory. Nowhere did we have a lightsaber battle that could compare to the beautiful choreography of the prequels (even if that's all they had going for them). Nowhere did we have the time to recognize bigger themes at work that would be so prevalent on repeat viewings (though I'll definitely be watching certain YouTube channels with a new hope of disproving my pessimism here).
Nowhere did I feel like a kid again, because I knew those at the helm were being children. I wish I could say that there were some well-edited sequences and good humor, but I'm too exhausted. I want to see Rey's family running for their lives because Emperor Palpatine wants his bloodline under his control. I want to see the wonder on little Rey's face as she discovers who she is, and I want to see her establish her own family to teach us that fate has no hold on us. This inevitable ending (predictable though it may be, also the reason we know nothing is at stake) feels like it was from the outtakes...of the wrap party...before the short epilogue...which is tacked on there like a rusty license plate...
"And then...oh yeah, almost forgot our title...the rise of Skywalker means...um...the same shot from Episode III, look at those suns! Cue John Williams!"