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Like so many who either write professionally or blog about entertainment these days, I was there when the original Star Wars premiered theatrically back in 1977. And like those folks I stared at the silver screen wide-eyed as the rebel cruiser rushed high above Tatooine’s atmosphere as the malevolent Imperial Star Destroyer pursued, its guns focused on maiming the escaping ship. Equally dazzled by the rest of George Lucas’s two-hour space fantasy, I returned to the theatre again and again and again, as did audiences around the nation: the visual flight of fancy captivated people everywhere, and we seemingly couldn’t get enough of these adventures that took place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
Thankfully, the saga didn’t end there: Lucas and company delivered a total of six films, with The Empire Strikes Back, Return Of The Jedi, The Phantom Menace, Attack Of The Clones, and Revenge Of The Sith stretching across almost three decades. The quality of the Prequel Trilogy was the subject of much debate – and probably will remain so long as there are fans who flock to the whole Star Wars universe of films – but one thing was clear: the Force was strong, the visuals were compelling, and even things as boring as tax policy and trade tariffs were no match for a good blaster at your side.
Eventually, George Lucas sold his Lucasfilm empire for an astounding amount of money to the Walt Disney Corporation; and the Mouse House promised to deliver audiences once more to the wide, wide world of spaceships, Jedis, Sith, and lightsabers: a new film trilogy (dubbed ‘Sequel Trilogy’) was forthcoming – one which promised to conclude the Skywalker saga – along with a handful of stand-alone Star Wars adventures. Hollywood wunderkind JJ Abrams was attached, and the rest is history …
For me, it’s absolutely impossible to review Star Wars: Episode IX – The Rise Of Skywalker without discussing the complete saga because there are so many tie-ins, references, and callbacks to events that have transpired previously. Critics have been understandably unkind to the release – Abrams and screenwriter Chris Terrio’s chaotic story covers a lot territory in its two-hour-plus runtime, trying to wrap up everything and anything that’s been hinted at and perhaps even a few items that weren’t. Audiences have been more accepting (if those parameters truly matter these days), embracing some of the modest revisioning with grins, guffaws, and groans. But – dare I suggest – it’s equally impossible to even assume everyone who boarded this great cosmic journey so many moons ago would be pleased with where it all winds up.
NOTE: In the interests of fairness, I'm pleased to disclose that there will be spoilers solely for the sake of discussion on plot and/or characters. Take note: you have been warned!!!
Thankfully, the saga didn’t end there: Lucas and company delivered a total of six films, with The Empire Strikes Back, Return Of The Jedi, The Phantom Menace, Attack Of The Clones, and Revenge Of The Sith stretching across almost three decades. The quality of the Prequel Trilogy was the subject of much debate – and probably will remain so long as there are fans who flock to the whole Star Wars universe of films – but one thing was clear: the Force was strong, the visuals were compelling, and even things as boring as tax policy and trade tariffs were no match for a good blaster at your side.
Eventually, George Lucas sold his Lucasfilm empire for an astounding amount of money to the Walt Disney Corporation; and the Mouse House promised to deliver audiences once more to the wide, wide world of spaceships, Jedis, Sith, and lightsabers: a new film trilogy (dubbed ‘Sequel Trilogy’) was forthcoming – one which promised to conclude the Skywalker saga – along with a handful of stand-alone Star Wars adventures. Hollywood wunderkind JJ Abrams was attached, and the rest is history …
For me, it’s absolutely impossible to review Star Wars: Episode IX – The Rise Of Skywalker without discussing the complete saga because there are so many tie-ins, references, and callbacks to events that have transpired previously. Critics have been understandably unkind to the release – Abrams and screenwriter Chris Terrio’s chaotic story covers a lot territory in its two-hour-plus runtime, trying to wrap up everything and anything that’s been hinted at and perhaps even a few items that weren’t. Audiences have been more accepting (if those parameters truly matter these days), embracing some of the modest revisioning with grins, guffaws, and groans. But – dare I suggest – it’s equally impossible to even assume everyone who boarded this great cosmic journey so many moons ago would be pleased with where it all winds up.
NOTE: In the interests of fairness, I'm pleased to disclose that there will be spoilers solely for the sake of discussion on plot and/or characters. Take note: you have been warned!!!
The Rey Of Skywalker
Luke Skywalker was a character designed to essentially appeal to anyone. In the original Star Wars, Luke was the young kid trapped in a dead-end town on a dead-end planet. When his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru weren’t looking, he’d slip off to Toschi Station to hang out with his young friends, or he’d target womp rats from the cockpit of his T-16 Skyhopper. Like so many of us, Luke kept his eyes to the horizon, his mind constantly filled with dreams of enlisting in the Academy and perhaps one day joining the Rebellion to fight the Empire. Though his future was never quite so bright, he imagined a life of adventure amongst the stars, and – galaxy be damned – he wanted something more. Building a saga around such a character was a no-brainer.
Though she hails from a similar desert existence with little prospect for the future, Rey (no last name given for what turns out to be a very, very significant narrative reason) offers very little by way of a ‘ray’ of hope for the future. She spends her days scavenging the remnants of a once-powerful Empire, hunting and pecking for a means to simply get by. Seemingly, she never truly wonders about who she is much less where she has ended up, apparently having been abandoned for no reason by parents whose elusive identities never quite seems to matter. Essentially, she’s an empty vessel, one that can be filled with practically anything a storyteller or audience member desires, and her backstory still makes sense.
When Luke finds himself suddenly thrust into the world of adventure he so desperately craved, even he balks at it. Ben Kenobi asks the young moisture farmer to learn the ways of the Force so that he can accompany him to Alderaan, but the lad refuses; it’s only after Imperial stormtroopers destroyed his homestead that he relents. In Mos Eisley, he’s literally thrown onto his backside in the cantina, left to allow a man perhaps three times his age to dispatch a couple of greasy regulars. When he tries to match barbs with the smuggler Han Solo, Luke once again is put in his place by the aged Jedi Knight. Finally aboard the Death Star in a rescue attempt gone horribly wrong, he’s nearly drowned and then crushed in one of the space station’s trash compacters until helped by others. Nothing but nothing goes right for him … and he’s still the hero on the hero’s quest who’s encouraged to fire his torpedo with the Force and ultimately save the day (for the time being) in the climax.
For the record, the defining Skywalker continues to earn his stripes throughout the Original Trilogy. He suffers shortcomings again and again in The Empire Strikes Back, whether it be falling prey to the dreaded Wampa on the ice planet Hoth or suffering the verbal lashing repeatedly dished out by Jedi Master Yoda throughout his training on Dagobah. Luke fails – he fails to understand his place in the universe largely because it’s the responsibility to the hero to P-R-O-V-E himself; and any life coach worth his or her salt will remind you that failure is a necessary component of learning. He even fails to accept the truth offered to him by Darth Vader – that he is, in fact, Luke’s father – until the facts are confirmed by the ghostly Kenobi much later. In fact, it isn’t until Return Of The Jedi that the young Skywalker seems to have come into his own, mastered his skills, and accepts his failures as the opportunities they are to the greatness yet in store for him.
By contrast, Rey seemingly needs no one.
She comes from nowhere but is emotionally, spiritually, and physically equipped for anything. She’s a professional scavenger, largely through experience of her own. She’s a pilot, though the audience is never treated to any logical explanation of how, where, or why she amassed such galactic skills. She’s even a budding Jedi Knight without granted so much as a day’s training, one who bests the galaxy’s current baddie, Kylo Ren, in her debut film’s big finish. And she bests him again she does in The Last Jedi. Should anyone expect a different outcome in The Rise Of Skywalker? Only if they haven’t been paying attention.
Luke Skywalker was a character designed to essentially appeal to anyone. In the original Star Wars, Luke was the young kid trapped in a dead-end town on a dead-end planet. When his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru weren’t looking, he’d slip off to Toschi Station to hang out with his young friends, or he’d target womp rats from the cockpit of his T-16 Skyhopper. Like so many of us, Luke kept his eyes to the horizon, his mind constantly filled with dreams of enlisting in the Academy and perhaps one day joining the Rebellion to fight the Empire. Though his future was never quite so bright, he imagined a life of adventure amongst the stars, and – galaxy be damned – he wanted something more. Building a saga around such a character was a no-brainer.
Though she hails from a similar desert existence with little prospect for the future, Rey (no last name given for what turns out to be a very, very significant narrative reason) offers very little by way of a ‘ray’ of hope for the future. She spends her days scavenging the remnants of a once-powerful Empire, hunting and pecking for a means to simply get by. Seemingly, she never truly wonders about who she is much less where she has ended up, apparently having been abandoned for no reason by parents whose elusive identities never quite seems to matter. Essentially, she’s an empty vessel, one that can be filled with practically anything a storyteller or audience member desires, and her backstory still makes sense.
When Luke finds himself suddenly thrust into the world of adventure he so desperately craved, even he balks at it. Ben Kenobi asks the young moisture farmer to learn the ways of the Force so that he can accompany him to Alderaan, but the lad refuses; it’s only after Imperial stormtroopers destroyed his homestead that he relents. In Mos Eisley, he’s literally thrown onto his backside in the cantina, left to allow a man perhaps three times his age to dispatch a couple of greasy regulars. When he tries to match barbs with the smuggler Han Solo, Luke once again is put in his place by the aged Jedi Knight. Finally aboard the Death Star in a rescue attempt gone horribly wrong, he’s nearly drowned and then crushed in one of the space station’s trash compacters until helped by others. Nothing but nothing goes right for him … and he’s still the hero on the hero’s quest who’s encouraged to fire his torpedo with the Force and ultimately save the day (for the time being) in the climax.
For the record, the defining Skywalker continues to earn his stripes throughout the Original Trilogy. He suffers shortcomings again and again in The Empire Strikes Back, whether it be falling prey to the dreaded Wampa on the ice planet Hoth or suffering the verbal lashing repeatedly dished out by Jedi Master Yoda throughout his training on Dagobah. Luke fails – he fails to understand his place in the universe largely because it’s the responsibility to the hero to P-R-O-V-E himself; and any life coach worth his or her salt will remind you that failure is a necessary component of learning. He even fails to accept the truth offered to him by Darth Vader – that he is, in fact, Luke’s father – until the facts are confirmed by the ghostly Kenobi much later. In fact, it isn’t until Return Of The Jedi that the young Skywalker seems to have come into his own, mastered his skills, and accepts his failures as the opportunities they are to the greatness yet in store for him.
By contrast, Rey seemingly needs no one.
She comes from nowhere but is emotionally, spiritually, and physically equipped for anything. She’s a professional scavenger, largely through experience of her own. She’s a pilot, though the audience is never treated to any logical explanation of how, where, or why she amassed such galactic skills. She’s even a budding Jedi Knight without granted so much as a day’s training, one who bests the galaxy’s current baddie, Kylo Ren, in her debut film’s big finish. And she bests him again she does in The Last Jedi. Should anyone expect a different outcome in The Rise Of Skywalker? Only if they haven’t been paying attention.
Chaos By Design … Or Lack Thereof
One could argue that the narrative problems of Rey as well as the entire Sequel Trilogy are owed to the fact that these films appear to have been constructed by committee and not every serving member shared equal weight.
Much ado has been made in the press about Rian Johnson’s contribution to the saga, the controversial middle installment better known as The Last Jedi. Though the film was critically praised on its release, audiences appeared upset with its story, and the reasons ranged the simple to the complex. Luke Skywalker had fallen from grace (in a sense) but his exile was largely self-imposed, the Jedi Knight choosing to shelter himself on hidden world because he’s concluding that the Jedi and Sith are simply no good for the galaxy-at-large. Eventually, Rey’s obvious invulnerability forces cracks in Luke’s demeanor, and he begrudgingly begins training her (though his motivations remain a bit nebulous and open to interpretation). To her credit, Rey does put these lessons to good use, though the showdown appears more about establishing a personal heritage than it does saving the universe from evil.
For those unaware, Abrams and company had provided the essentials for a shooting script to the oncoming director; however, Johnson was apparently under no obligation to use it. Thus, he tossed it out (?!?!) and penned his own, one which he promised would “challenge fans” instead of appeasing them. (Sorry, folks, but I still have unequivocally no idea what that means, and I’m guessing that Johnson would conclude that I’m no fan, as a result.)
Because I’ve no way of knowing what went on behind-the-scenes regarding the differences between Abrams’ and Johnson’s drafts, I can only speculate that the former would’ve placed more building blocks onto the foundation creatively established with The Force Awakens. What could that have involved? Well, Abrams’ fondness for MacGuffins is legendary, so I can only guess he would’ve explored the secret of Rey’s past … with the possible reveal coming near the picture’s conclusion, much in the same way Vader broke the news to Luke about who his real father was. Such a twist would’ve given The Last Jedi the same narrative energy as The Empire Strikes Back gave the Original Trilogy, and I’m guessing studio executives would’ve lapped that up and begged for more when essentially all such a delivery does is pave the way for the third act … which brings us back to the discussion of The Rise Of Skywalker, its strengths, and its shortcomings.
Instead, Johnson’s script fundamentally destroyed the Resistance, shaking the saga to its foundations. His story also introduced a handful of secondary characters (i.e. Rose Tico, Vice Admiral Holdo, DJ, the Master Codebreaker), many of which seemed inconsequential and colorless in a galaxy more commonly associated with fan-favorites like Boba Fett, Wedge Antilles, and Jabba the Hutt with vastly limited screen time. Lastly, the talented writer/director killed off the central Skywalker, giving him a largely ignoble if not cowardly death in some empty corner of the universe where only Force ghosts could see him pass.
Was this the way Walt Disney truly wanted to expand its billion-dollar investment, truly resting its future on the backs of heroes yet unproven, box office ticket receipts be damned? Granted, any film with ‘Star Wars’ in the title still faces a lucrative future, but did the Mouse House truly want to turn its back on the past in such an obvious way? Yes, the baton was passed (somewhat) to a new crew with The Force Awakens, a film I personally didn’t much care for; straying so far from the path of the quintessential good vs. evil story was a calculated risk, one from which fans only hoped Kathleen Kennedy and her producing crew learned a worthwhile lesson or two.
One could argue that the narrative problems of Rey as well as the entire Sequel Trilogy are owed to the fact that these films appear to have been constructed by committee and not every serving member shared equal weight.
Much ado has been made in the press about Rian Johnson’s contribution to the saga, the controversial middle installment better known as The Last Jedi. Though the film was critically praised on its release, audiences appeared upset with its story, and the reasons ranged the simple to the complex. Luke Skywalker had fallen from grace (in a sense) but his exile was largely self-imposed, the Jedi Knight choosing to shelter himself on hidden world because he’s concluding that the Jedi and Sith are simply no good for the galaxy-at-large. Eventually, Rey’s obvious invulnerability forces cracks in Luke’s demeanor, and he begrudgingly begins training her (though his motivations remain a bit nebulous and open to interpretation). To her credit, Rey does put these lessons to good use, though the showdown appears more about establishing a personal heritage than it does saving the universe from evil.
For those unaware, Abrams and company had provided the essentials for a shooting script to the oncoming director; however, Johnson was apparently under no obligation to use it. Thus, he tossed it out (?!?!) and penned his own, one which he promised would “challenge fans” instead of appeasing them. (Sorry, folks, but I still have unequivocally no idea what that means, and I’m guessing that Johnson would conclude that I’m no fan, as a result.)
Because I’ve no way of knowing what went on behind-the-scenes regarding the differences between Abrams’ and Johnson’s drafts, I can only speculate that the former would’ve placed more building blocks onto the foundation creatively established with The Force Awakens. What could that have involved? Well, Abrams’ fondness for MacGuffins is legendary, so I can only guess he would’ve explored the secret of Rey’s past … with the possible reveal coming near the picture’s conclusion, much in the same way Vader broke the news to Luke about who his real father was. Such a twist would’ve given The Last Jedi the same narrative energy as The Empire Strikes Back gave the Original Trilogy, and I’m guessing studio executives would’ve lapped that up and begged for more when essentially all such a delivery does is pave the way for the third act … which brings us back to the discussion of The Rise Of Skywalker, its strengths, and its shortcomings.
Instead, Johnson’s script fundamentally destroyed the Resistance, shaking the saga to its foundations. His story also introduced a handful of secondary characters (i.e. Rose Tico, Vice Admiral Holdo, DJ, the Master Codebreaker), many of which seemed inconsequential and colorless in a galaxy more commonly associated with fan-favorites like Boba Fett, Wedge Antilles, and Jabba the Hutt with vastly limited screen time. Lastly, the talented writer/director killed off the central Skywalker, giving him a largely ignoble if not cowardly death in some empty corner of the universe where only Force ghosts could see him pass.
Was this the way Walt Disney truly wanted to expand its billion-dollar investment, truly resting its future on the backs of heroes yet unproven, box office ticket receipts be damned? Granted, any film with ‘Star Wars’ in the title still faces a lucrative future, but did the Mouse House truly want to turn its back on the past in such an obvious way? Yes, the baton was passed (somewhat) to a new crew with The Force Awakens, a film I personally didn’t much care for; straying so far from the path of the quintessential good vs. evil story was a calculated risk, one from which fans only hoped Kathleen Kennedy and her producing crew learned a worthwhile lesson or two.
All Roads Lead To Rome … Or Is That Exogol?
In much the way Johnson tossed out Abrams’ work to flesh out his own direction with The Last Jedi, Abrams appears to have done the same with The Rise Of Skywalker: all that remains of Rian’s work is that the Resistance is in shambles, but gone (thankfully) from the light of day are any discussions of challenging fans. The Hollywood wunderkind is back in the center seat – for better or for worse – and he brings the saga full circle with a plot that involves the return of Emperor Palpatine in more ways than one. The invincible Rey is also back in top form, her Jedi training apparently completed by none other than Leia Organa herself.
In short, the final film in the Skywalker saga’s greatest strength is that it feels like two films, ignoring much of Johnson’s creative sidebar in favor of drawing all plots and subplots to closure. In fact, I’d argue that the first half quite possibly included elements of what Abrams’ had loosely planned as the Sequel Trilogy’s second film, the draft of which ended up being discarded: this half showcases our young heroes along with a few established regulars (Chewbacca and C-3PO) on the quest to uncover just what Luke Skywalker was up to before he went into self-imposed exile. However, feeling like it’s two films is also the feature’s greatest weakness as much of its second half feels cobbled together around ideas that could’ve benefited from more screen time and less obvious exposition.
As alluded to above, audiences learn that Jedi Skywalker did more than simply fall from grace after the conclusion of Return Of The Jedi: apparently, he had a few adventures, some of which included training his sister Leia to be a Jedi Knight as well as hunting down some legends (with Lando Calrissian) involving an ancient Sith world known as Exogol. In Luke’s absence, Kylo Ren and the Knights of Ren (sounding like the name of the worst grunge band possible) take up this quest. Lo and behold, Kylo discovers that he’s been little more than a pawn, and it’s none other than Emperor Palpatine (or a suitable clone) pulling the strings all along. Palpatine – last seen falling down a power shaft in Return Of The Jedi – has emerged and wants the galaxy back for himself, and he’s amassed a whole fleet of Star Destroyers just waiting to enforce his Imperial might: all he needs (curiously unexplained) is for Kylo to finally kill Rey to set the daring plan in motion.
Whether one likes the idea of Palpatine returning to prominence or not, this arrangement works wonderfully for the purposes of Abrams and Terrio’s script as it finally gives these young heroes some quest of their own to fulfill: together, they must locate an all-new MacGuffin, one which will lead them to the Emperor so that they can battle evil before it’s allowed to destroy their world. Rey, Poe, and Finn finally have their own purpose in the galaxy far, far away; and this is why I’d argue that the first half of The Rise Of Skywalker is the first original and interesting material since George Lucas passed the franchise to Disney. Like it or not, Rise’s set-up staked out an adventure for these “younglings” to go out into this universe and earn their stripes; despite a few questionable choices here and there, this first half succeeds in taking the mantle as ‘the next generation’ in Star Wars’ storytelling. As imperfect as it was, it still worked.
But then came the second half, and I’ve begun to wonder if Abrams deliberately implodes space fantasy franchises so that he can get fired and go on to other projects.
In much the way Johnson tossed out Abrams’ work to flesh out his own direction with The Last Jedi, Abrams appears to have done the same with The Rise Of Skywalker: all that remains of Rian’s work is that the Resistance is in shambles, but gone (thankfully) from the light of day are any discussions of challenging fans. The Hollywood wunderkind is back in the center seat – for better or for worse – and he brings the saga full circle with a plot that involves the return of Emperor Palpatine in more ways than one. The invincible Rey is also back in top form, her Jedi training apparently completed by none other than Leia Organa herself.
In short, the final film in the Skywalker saga’s greatest strength is that it feels like two films, ignoring much of Johnson’s creative sidebar in favor of drawing all plots and subplots to closure. In fact, I’d argue that the first half quite possibly included elements of what Abrams’ had loosely planned as the Sequel Trilogy’s second film, the draft of which ended up being discarded: this half showcases our young heroes along with a few established regulars (Chewbacca and C-3PO) on the quest to uncover just what Luke Skywalker was up to before he went into self-imposed exile. However, feeling like it’s two films is also the feature’s greatest weakness as much of its second half feels cobbled together around ideas that could’ve benefited from more screen time and less obvious exposition.
As alluded to above, audiences learn that Jedi Skywalker did more than simply fall from grace after the conclusion of Return Of The Jedi: apparently, he had a few adventures, some of which included training his sister Leia to be a Jedi Knight as well as hunting down some legends (with Lando Calrissian) involving an ancient Sith world known as Exogol. In Luke’s absence, Kylo Ren and the Knights of Ren (sounding like the name of the worst grunge band possible) take up this quest. Lo and behold, Kylo discovers that he’s been little more than a pawn, and it’s none other than Emperor Palpatine (or a suitable clone) pulling the strings all along. Palpatine – last seen falling down a power shaft in Return Of The Jedi – has emerged and wants the galaxy back for himself, and he’s amassed a whole fleet of Star Destroyers just waiting to enforce his Imperial might: all he needs (curiously unexplained) is for Kylo to finally kill Rey to set the daring plan in motion.
Whether one likes the idea of Palpatine returning to prominence or not, this arrangement works wonderfully for the purposes of Abrams and Terrio’s script as it finally gives these young heroes some quest of their own to fulfill: together, they must locate an all-new MacGuffin, one which will lead them to the Emperor so that they can battle evil before it’s allowed to destroy their world. Rey, Poe, and Finn finally have their own purpose in the galaxy far, far away; and this is why I’d argue that the first half of The Rise Of Skywalker is the first original and interesting material since George Lucas passed the franchise to Disney. Like it or not, Rise’s set-up staked out an adventure for these “younglings” to go out into this universe and earn their stripes; despite a few questionable choices here and there, this first half succeeds in taking the mantle as ‘the next generation’ in Star Wars’ storytelling. As imperfect as it was, it still worked.
But then came the second half, and I’ve begun to wonder if Abrams deliberately implodes space fantasy franchises so that he can get fired and go on to other projects.
The Incoherent Trilogy
Because of his long-established penchants for MacGuffins, Abrams is clearly a screenwriter perfectly comfortable with pulling solutions out of thin air (if needed); why not tie up a plot twist simply with a new Force ability? In short, this is what magical devices do – they exist to pull tales into whatever direction the storyteller wishes. Though intrinsic to much of fantasy and fantasy franchises, magic is not organic; thus, shackling the Jedi and the Sith with even greater mystical powers than was ever intended much less seen before in the Star Wars universe was, perhaps, a risk too great to take … and that’s probably why both Johnson and Abrams couldn’t resist themselves respectively in The Last Jedi and The Rise Of Skywalker.
Johnson saw fit to give Luke Skywalker the ability to Force-project himself – while still alive – halfway across the galaxy in order to help save the day in the big finish to his film. Granted, this effort wasn’t without consequence: the expense of such will brought about the Jedi’s controversial death in The Last Jedi. As the road was already paved by Johnson, Abrams simply saw fit to craft out a few offramps of his own by imbuing Force users with the ability to heal others and even transfer their own “life source” to another living being. Actress Daisy Ridley is even on record in interviews as confirming that director Abrams specifically wanted to forge new Jedi powers in the ongoing saga, some of which were only hinted at previously. Furthermore, the Jedi are now fully able to transfer solid objects to one another across vast distances by using the Force, and they can even do battle with one another while engaged in Force-enhanced visions.
At first blush, some of these developments do keep within the spectrum of possibilities laid out within Lucas’s films. Before the Prequel Trilogy reduced the Force to discussion of midichlorians and blood samples, the Original Trilogy showcased Darth Vader oft using his Force abilities to inflict harm on countless others, so the evolution of using the same abilities to speed healing is debatably plausible. And if the Force can be used to influence the perception of others (i.e. “these are not the droids you’re looking for”) then it stands to reason that the touch could be medically persuasive, no? (This IS Fantasy, after all.) However, I found the passing of objects across great distances to be a bit too fantastical for my personal tastes; as their was really no grounding for it in the films previously, it just seemed like a screenwriter’s creation to move the plot forward.
It’s this slapdash development of powers and circumstances – along with the narrative which far too often felt like revisiting the events and situations of the Original Trilogy – that has me labeling these three films as ‘the Incoherent Trilogy.’ It just rarely felt natural, rarely felt original. When it did try to do something different – even in the appearance of wheel-based technology that had never been seen before in Star Wars – I found myself questioning, “Well, why now? We’ve never seen this before, so why now?” When I can’t comfortably answer that on my own with material provided by the storytellers, I begin to doubt the sincerity of the effort.
Yes, maybe I’m overthinking it, but I still view it as a weakness of the film, not the audience.
Because of his long-established penchants for MacGuffins, Abrams is clearly a screenwriter perfectly comfortable with pulling solutions out of thin air (if needed); why not tie up a plot twist simply with a new Force ability? In short, this is what magical devices do – they exist to pull tales into whatever direction the storyteller wishes. Though intrinsic to much of fantasy and fantasy franchises, magic is not organic; thus, shackling the Jedi and the Sith with even greater mystical powers than was ever intended much less seen before in the Star Wars universe was, perhaps, a risk too great to take … and that’s probably why both Johnson and Abrams couldn’t resist themselves respectively in The Last Jedi and The Rise Of Skywalker.
Johnson saw fit to give Luke Skywalker the ability to Force-project himself – while still alive – halfway across the galaxy in order to help save the day in the big finish to his film. Granted, this effort wasn’t without consequence: the expense of such will brought about the Jedi’s controversial death in The Last Jedi. As the road was already paved by Johnson, Abrams simply saw fit to craft out a few offramps of his own by imbuing Force users with the ability to heal others and even transfer their own “life source” to another living being. Actress Daisy Ridley is even on record in interviews as confirming that director Abrams specifically wanted to forge new Jedi powers in the ongoing saga, some of which were only hinted at previously. Furthermore, the Jedi are now fully able to transfer solid objects to one another across vast distances by using the Force, and they can even do battle with one another while engaged in Force-enhanced visions.
At first blush, some of these developments do keep within the spectrum of possibilities laid out within Lucas’s films. Before the Prequel Trilogy reduced the Force to discussion of midichlorians and blood samples, the Original Trilogy showcased Darth Vader oft using his Force abilities to inflict harm on countless others, so the evolution of using the same abilities to speed healing is debatably plausible. And if the Force can be used to influence the perception of others (i.e. “these are not the droids you’re looking for”) then it stands to reason that the touch could be medically persuasive, no? (This IS Fantasy, after all.) However, I found the passing of objects across great distances to be a bit too fantastical for my personal tastes; as their was really no grounding for it in the films previously, it just seemed like a screenwriter’s creation to move the plot forward.
It’s this slapdash development of powers and circumstances – along with the narrative which far too often felt like revisiting the events and situations of the Original Trilogy – that has me labeling these three films as ‘the Incoherent Trilogy.’ It just rarely felt natural, rarely felt original. When it did try to do something different – even in the appearance of wheel-based technology that had never been seen before in Star Wars – I found myself questioning, “Well, why now? We’ve never seen this before, so why now?” When I can’t comfortably answer that on my own with material provided by the storytellers, I begin to doubt the sincerity of the effort.
Yes, maybe I’m overthinking it, but I still view it as a weakness of the film, not the audience.
The End Of All Things(?)
Like so many, I could go on, but I won’t at this juncture, largely because I don’t wish to spoil the experience of seeing The Rise Of Skywalker on the silver screen. It’s an admirable effort – one that tries too hard in some places and too little in others – but still worthy of being seen, especially in cinemas. Plus, I’ve a whole idea about a series of articles on redemption and what it means in the Lucasfilm universe, but methinks that’s for another time and another place when spoilers can be more openly discussed.
Though I’ve said I didn’t care for The Force Awakens (heck, I even hated the film’s title), the flick didn’t quench my thirst for all things Star Wars. Though I’ve criticized The Last Jedi for feeling more like a bloated video game than it did a theatrical release, I’ve often admitted I had fun with it … in much the same way I would a video game. And I’ve tried to be as clear with The Rise Of Skywalker as possible without ruining the experience for those yet to partake of what promises to be the last in the initial Star Wars saga: the first half is pretty grand, and the second half is pretty uneven, almost rushed.
So rather than dwell on it as the end of all things, I do choose to find hope in a new beginning.
Star Wars has always been big on dreams, after all. Luke Skywalker had them, and – though Rey’s focus always seemed more selfish on finding out who she was – maybe she had them, too. As much as The Force Awakens narratively undid the hero’s quest of the Original Trilogy, it still delivered the franchise to a new generation of viewers; that film’s gross alone perhaps insures that there’s far more stories to tell in the galaxy far, far away.
In the meantime, there’s always the novels, the new Disney streaming services, and comic books. So long as there’s an audience, there will be Star Wars.
And the Force will always be with us …
Like so many, I could go on, but I won’t at this juncture, largely because I don’t wish to spoil the experience of seeing The Rise Of Skywalker on the silver screen. It’s an admirable effort – one that tries too hard in some places and too little in others – but still worthy of being seen, especially in cinemas. Plus, I’ve a whole idea about a series of articles on redemption and what it means in the Lucasfilm universe, but methinks that’s for another time and another place when spoilers can be more openly discussed.
Though I’ve said I didn’t care for The Force Awakens (heck, I even hated the film’s title), the flick didn’t quench my thirst for all things Star Wars. Though I’ve criticized The Last Jedi for feeling more like a bloated video game than it did a theatrical release, I’ve often admitted I had fun with it … in much the same way I would a video game. And I’ve tried to be as clear with The Rise Of Skywalker as possible without ruining the experience for those yet to partake of what promises to be the last in the initial Star Wars saga: the first half is pretty grand, and the second half is pretty uneven, almost rushed.
So rather than dwell on it as the end of all things, I do choose to find hope in a new beginning.
Star Wars has always been big on dreams, after all. Luke Skywalker had them, and – though Rey’s focus always seemed more selfish on finding out who she was – maybe she had them, too. As much as The Force Awakens narratively undid the hero’s quest of the Original Trilogy, it still delivered the franchise to a new generation of viewers; that film’s gross alone perhaps insures that there’s far more stories to tell in the galaxy far, far away.
In the meantime, there’s always the novels, the new Disney streaming services, and comic books. So long as there’s an audience, there will be Star Wars.
And the Force will always be with us …
- Published on
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. is one of those authors who emerged from a certain era in human history (the 1960’s counter-culture movement) whose voice I’ve always struggled to hear clearly. The few novels of his that I’ve waded through seemed as grounded in bitterness as they were in humor, and I was never able as a reader to reconcile those somewhat polar positions. Perhaps it’s that I found much of his style a bit too experimental for my tastes or maybe even that I found his particular quest to understand our shared existence a bit too crestfallen; however, I’d never argue against giving his work the time and study it’s due as his remains one of the most distinct of its generation.
In the early 1990’s, I attended a speech of his in suburban Chicago, and the man I listened to certainly was the man who had written those sometimes-angry works. He frowned a lot. He seemed disinterested with answering questions. He talked about things in the world that bothered him. Dare I say that he even seemed a bit resentful of the audience who’d come to hear him speak? While the event was scheduled to last ninety minutes, the writer himself concluded it after just under sixty minutes when he was asked by a student if he planned to write anything new.
“I think I’ve written enough, and it speaks for itself,” he said and walked off stage.
To be perfectly honest, I found his “Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance With Death” occasionally inaccessible … so much so that I even put it down once or twice during reading for an extended break away from it. This wasn’t due to its subject matter, some perceived negativity, or even its anti-war stance; rather, it was because I just couldn’t ‘get’ into the character of Billy Pilgrim, the perennial milquetoast of the tale. Having cut my teeth on some of SciFi’s more blustery heroes – the Flash Gordon’s, the Buck Rogers’, the Captain James T. Kirk’s – I wasn’t prepared for the likes of Billy, nor did I much care for him. Pilgrim was the last person I wanted to discover derring-do with … and now that I’m older (and maybe a bit wiser) methinks that might’ve been part of Vonnegut’s point all along.
As a result, I’d avoided watching director George Roy Hill’s 1972 adaptation of the popular novel. I figured I’d be in for more of the same, and – as it was common knowledge that the motion picture had largely tanked at the box office – I concluded I quite possibly wasn’t missing much. But I do so love a good film, and I’m thrilled to report that I’ve been proven wrong (again!) as I just completed a full viewing of Arrow Video’s December 2019 Special Edition release of this undisputed masterpiece.
For those uninitiated to the story: Billy Pilgrim is a traveler who finds himself somehow ‘unstuck in time,’ leaping through the moments of his life in what appears to be no discernible order with no discernible reason. Through this existential device, he experiences the life he’s lived again, perhaps eventually finding immortality through his departure from our world by way of an alien abduction which may just deliver him to the life he’s always fantasized possible but never achievable on Earth.
If that summation is a bit to swallow, then you really ought to try Vonnegut’s book: the synopsis there isn’t any easier. Still, Hill’s adaptation succeeds largely because it is accomplished on film: transitions are blended in unique ways that pose small answers as to why the audience is being pulled from one bus stop to the next on the ride that becomes Billy’s life. In a way similar that chapter breaks help structure a novel, visual fade-outs serve as gateways to fade-ins. A celebration from one’s past can be intercut with an entirely different one from the future, giving new meaning to both in a manner impossible with words on the printed page. Remember the adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words?” Hill and his compatriots accomplish this ten-fold in bringing this journey to life on the silver screen.
In the early 1990’s, I attended a speech of his in suburban Chicago, and the man I listened to certainly was the man who had written those sometimes-angry works. He frowned a lot. He seemed disinterested with answering questions. He talked about things in the world that bothered him. Dare I say that he even seemed a bit resentful of the audience who’d come to hear him speak? While the event was scheduled to last ninety minutes, the writer himself concluded it after just under sixty minutes when he was asked by a student if he planned to write anything new.
“I think I’ve written enough, and it speaks for itself,” he said and walked off stage.
To be perfectly honest, I found his “Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance With Death” occasionally inaccessible … so much so that I even put it down once or twice during reading for an extended break away from it. This wasn’t due to its subject matter, some perceived negativity, or even its anti-war stance; rather, it was because I just couldn’t ‘get’ into the character of Billy Pilgrim, the perennial milquetoast of the tale. Having cut my teeth on some of SciFi’s more blustery heroes – the Flash Gordon’s, the Buck Rogers’, the Captain James T. Kirk’s – I wasn’t prepared for the likes of Billy, nor did I much care for him. Pilgrim was the last person I wanted to discover derring-do with … and now that I’m older (and maybe a bit wiser) methinks that might’ve been part of Vonnegut’s point all along.
As a result, I’d avoided watching director George Roy Hill’s 1972 adaptation of the popular novel. I figured I’d be in for more of the same, and – as it was common knowledge that the motion picture had largely tanked at the box office – I concluded I quite possibly wasn’t missing much. But I do so love a good film, and I’m thrilled to report that I’ve been proven wrong (again!) as I just completed a full viewing of Arrow Video’s December 2019 Special Edition release of this undisputed masterpiece.
For those uninitiated to the story: Billy Pilgrim is a traveler who finds himself somehow ‘unstuck in time,’ leaping through the moments of his life in what appears to be no discernible order with no discernible reason. Through this existential device, he experiences the life he’s lived again, perhaps eventually finding immortality through his departure from our world by way of an alien abduction which may just deliver him to the life he’s always fantasized possible but never achievable on Earth.
If that summation is a bit to swallow, then you really ought to try Vonnegut’s book: the synopsis there isn’t any easier. Still, Hill’s adaptation succeeds largely because it is accomplished on film: transitions are blended in unique ways that pose small answers as to why the audience is being pulled from one bus stop to the next on the ride that becomes Billy’s life. In a way similar that chapter breaks help structure a novel, visual fade-outs serve as gateways to fade-ins. A celebration from one’s past can be intercut with an entirely different one from the future, giving new meaning to both in a manner impossible with words on the printed page. Remember the adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words?” Hill and his compatriots accomplish this ten-fold in bringing this journey to life on the silver screen.
The only thing missing from the package provided by Arrow Video with this release is, essentially, what it’s all supposed to mean; but that’s quite probably the way even Vonnegut himself would’ve wanted it. (For the record, the prolific scribe is on record as being downright thrilled with the film.) His Billy Pilgrim doesn’t react to much here – both in the novel and in the film – and that’s because he’s put in the dubious position of serving entirely as a witness to history. Rarely does he try to influence it, though there are a few small moments. Rarely does he attempt to thwart the Fates, though he ultimately seems pleased with where he ends up. His is the quest of, maybe, just ‘getting by’ with the least amount of pain and/or sacrifice required, with the author firmly settled into the “and so it goes” impression of his original work. Life is what happens while you’re living it, and Billy is his own living observer and participant. His journey after all isn’t the hero’s quest, a device heavily relied on in literature. His is only a journey, and you can make of it what you will.
Still, the Arrow release is solid with extras exploring the work of art as well as the place it earned itself in film history. There’s a great 20 minute ‘appreciation’ with author and critic Kim Newman (do NOT watch it before watching the film if this is your first time, be warned). There are also a few other shorts which look back at the film’s score, distribution, and the typical behind-the-scenes bits. There’s also a nice interview with actor Perry King who has a small but critical role in the film as Pilgrim’s son. And, of course, there’s a commentary track, this one provided by author and critic Troy Howarth: I was a bit disappointed with this as Howarth’s observations tend to be more biographical in nature about the folks involved before and behind-the-screen, oft times letting key moments in the flick go by without so much as an interesting aside or observation on what it may’ve meant … but, still, it’s nice to have something that gives the work the inspection long overdue.
The last word? This release is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. If you’re a SciFi junkie like me, then there’s enough in here to keep you interested even though so very much of the film feels far more conventional than it does a genre flick. If you’re a film nerd (also like me), then there’s more than enough substance to the film, the commentary, and the supplemental materials (though a bit tangential at times) to invest a few hours in watching director Hill and his cast of players work their cinema magic. And even if you’re seen the film before I suggest that you might want to see it again if for no other reason than to enjoy the merits of this brand new 4K restoration: admittedly, the print is grainy in a few spots, but it all looks great nonetheless.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video provided me with a Blu-ray copy of Slaughterhouse-Five by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review, and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
For those interested in picking up their own copy of this release, Amazon.com has it for sale; and you can follow the link right here.
Still, the Arrow release is solid with extras exploring the work of art as well as the place it earned itself in film history. There’s a great 20 minute ‘appreciation’ with author and critic Kim Newman (do NOT watch it before watching the film if this is your first time, be warned). There are also a few other shorts which look back at the film’s score, distribution, and the typical behind-the-scenes bits. There’s also a nice interview with actor Perry King who has a small but critical role in the film as Pilgrim’s son. And, of course, there’s a commentary track, this one provided by author and critic Troy Howarth: I was a bit disappointed with this as Howarth’s observations tend to be more biographical in nature about the folks involved before and behind-the-screen, oft times letting key moments in the flick go by without so much as an interesting aside or observation on what it may’ve meant … but, still, it’s nice to have something that gives the work the inspection long overdue.
The last word? This release is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. If you’re a SciFi junkie like me, then there’s enough in here to keep you interested even though so very much of the film feels far more conventional than it does a genre flick. If you’re a film nerd (also like me), then there’s more than enough substance to the film, the commentary, and the supplemental materials (though a bit tangential at times) to invest a few hours in watching director Hill and his cast of players work their cinema magic. And even if you’re seen the film before I suggest that you might want to see it again if for no other reason than to enjoy the merits of this brand new 4K restoration: admittedly, the print is grainy in a few spots, but it all looks great nonetheless.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video provided me with a Blu-ray copy of Slaughterhouse-Five by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review, and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
For those interested in picking up their own copy of this release, Amazon.com has it for sale; and you can follow the link right here.
- Published on
Ach, Trek enthusiasts lost another one this week as word reached the world just today regarding the passing of Rene Auberjonois. For the uninitiated, Auberjonois played 'Odo,' a shapeshifting alien with ties to a civilization hell bent on ruling the galaxy -- aboard Star Trek: Deep Space Nine from 1993 until 1999.
I vaguely recall meeting him at one of the Star Trek conventions I attended in Las Vegas. (Yes, the big annual affair which typically brings out all of the stars.) He seemed like an incredible warm person, and I think there's no discounting the man's obvious talent. He launched into a career in the 1960's that stretched all the way into the current year, and that's no small feat indeed.
Remembering his work aboard Deep Space Nine, I wasn't all that fond of his character right out of the gate. Odo was a bit gruff if not downright mean at times, seemingly put off by being surrounding by so many louder and vastly more colorful species. It's a characterization that wouldn't make much sense until viewers learned more about his background and what central role he and his race would play as the show developed.
However, like so many, I loved his interactions with Deep Space Nine's resident felon -- the Ferengi barkeep and greater galactic swindler, Quark (played delightfully by Armin Shimerman): their banter was the substance of great writing and top-notch performances, harkening back all the way to the work of Bogart and Rains in the 1942 Hollywood classic Casablanca. While Odo stood for justice, Quark stood for everything but; and the spine of this relationship stretched gloriously through the show's seven seasons. These polar opposites were often forced against their own wishes to work together -- a lesson aptly applied to all of us in real life -- and I suggest that the two actors relished these scenes perhaps as much as fans enjoyed them.
Alas, none of us are immortal, and our warmest wishes go out to Auberjonois' family as well as the Trek community.
I vaguely recall meeting him at one of the Star Trek conventions I attended in Las Vegas. (Yes, the big annual affair which typically brings out all of the stars.) He seemed like an incredible warm person, and I think there's no discounting the man's obvious talent. He launched into a career in the 1960's that stretched all the way into the current year, and that's no small feat indeed.
Remembering his work aboard Deep Space Nine, I wasn't all that fond of his character right out of the gate. Odo was a bit gruff if not downright mean at times, seemingly put off by being surrounding by so many louder and vastly more colorful species. It's a characterization that wouldn't make much sense until viewers learned more about his background and what central role he and his race would play as the show developed.
However, like so many, I loved his interactions with Deep Space Nine's resident felon -- the Ferengi barkeep and greater galactic swindler, Quark (played delightfully by Armin Shimerman): their banter was the substance of great writing and top-notch performances, harkening back all the way to the work of Bogart and Rains in the 1942 Hollywood classic Casablanca. While Odo stood for justice, Quark stood for everything but; and the spine of this relationship stretched gloriously through the show's seven seasons. These polar opposites were often forced against their own wishes to work together -- a lesson aptly applied to all of us in real life -- and I suggest that the two actors relished these scenes perhaps as much as fans enjoyed them.
Alas, none of us are immortal, and our warmest wishes go out to Auberjonois' family as well as the Trek community.
- Published on
Ach. This one hurts, my fellow Trek enthusiasts ...
Mainstream Star Trek fans probably do not recognize the name of D.C. Fontana, other than to do a cursory Google search and learn that she's established herself as an author of several novels and/or teleplays for the original program as well as the subsequent animated incarnation as well as The Next Generation. While we may never know the depth of her entire contribution to Trek, let me mention a few listed from her obituary notice:
First, not only did she pen scripts and serve as the story editor for classic Star Trek, she also served as one of its producers, no small feat in an era when female contributions were somewhat frowned upon by studio executives.
Second, she's credited with largely "founding" Spock. The characters ongoing struggle with his hybrid status -- half-human, half-Vulcan -- was her creation, and she helped bring it alive visually with scripts for both the classic program and Star Trek: The Animated Series.
Lastly, she crafted scripts for not only classic Trek but also Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and Star Trek: New Voyages, a popular web-based incarnation exploring further missions of Kirk and company.
But her influence on televised Science Fiction doesn't start and stop with Trek alone: her IMDB.com profile shows that she wrote scripts for such other properties as The Six Million Dollar Man, Land Of The Lost, The Fantastic Journey, Logan's Run, Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, War Of The Worlds, and even Babylon 5. That is some record, my friends.
Alas, none of us lasts forever, and she's left our world for whatever lies beyond. Rest in peace, milady, and may your works forever burn brightly.
Mainstream Star Trek fans probably do not recognize the name of D.C. Fontana, other than to do a cursory Google search and learn that she's established herself as an author of several novels and/or teleplays for the original program as well as the subsequent animated incarnation as well as The Next Generation. While we may never know the depth of her entire contribution to Trek, let me mention a few listed from her obituary notice:
First, not only did she pen scripts and serve as the story editor for classic Star Trek, she also served as one of its producers, no small feat in an era when female contributions were somewhat frowned upon by studio executives.
Second, she's credited with largely "founding" Spock. The characters ongoing struggle with his hybrid status -- half-human, half-Vulcan -- was her creation, and she helped bring it alive visually with scripts for both the classic program and Star Trek: The Animated Series.
Lastly, she crafted scripts for not only classic Trek but also Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and Star Trek: New Voyages, a popular web-based incarnation exploring further missions of Kirk and company.
But her influence on televised Science Fiction doesn't start and stop with Trek alone: her IMDB.com profile shows that she wrote scripts for such other properties as The Six Million Dollar Man, Land Of The Lost, The Fantastic Journey, Logan's Run, Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, War Of The Worlds, and even Babylon 5. That is some record, my friends.
Alas, none of us lasts forever, and she's left our world for whatever lies beyond. Rest in peace, milady, and may your works forever burn brightly.
- Published on
History fascinates me. Coming to understand how what has come before largely shapes the road we’re all traveling on has driven me personally to seek out a handful of books on the American Revolution, the ‘great experiment’ that was U.S. Prohibition, and the era up to and surrounding World War II. A man much wiser than I once proclaimed that those who failed to grasp our collective past would be doomed to repeat it; and – for the record – there’s no finer genre than that of Science Fiction to truly examine and exploit that premise.
Indeed, Alternate History has fueled much of SciFi’s growth beyond its core audience over the last few decades. Books like Harry Turtledove’s “The Guns Of The South,” Stephen King’s “11/22/63,” and Robert Harris’ “Fatherland” were popular both with established genre fans as well as readers who tend to traffic in more mainstream fare largely because they explored alternate outcomes for seminal events in history such as the American Civil War, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and World War II respectively. Motion pictures like Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Bastards (2009) presented an unconventional look into events that never quite took place during World War II; while flicks like The Final Countdown (1980) and the crowd-friendly Frequency (2000) questioned the morality of tampering with fate – even at its worst – in order to produce a more acceptable outcome. Even television has gotten into the business with programs like the BBC’s long-running Doctor Who, NBC’s Quantum Leap, Fox’s Slider, and UPN’s Seven Days questioning how a timeline’s subtle reshaping can produce devastating outcomes that reverberate across the space/time continuum. While I’m not suggesting each of these are perfect examples of Alternative History as its own unique category, I am underscoring that all of them share that unifying thread of “what if” that almost magically captivates us all … and will likely do so as long as storytellers weave webs for interested audiences.
Arguably, one of the better authors of the 20th Century to explore whole ‘what if’ perspective as it relates to Alternative History was the late Philip K. Dick. His “The Man In The High Castle” served as the inspiration for Amazon Prime’s streaming program of the same name, and the show recently bowed out of its original broadcast existence with the release of its fourth (and final) season.
I thought it apropos to sound off on it just a bit.
Indeed, Alternate History has fueled much of SciFi’s growth beyond its core audience over the last few decades. Books like Harry Turtledove’s “The Guns Of The South,” Stephen King’s “11/22/63,” and Robert Harris’ “Fatherland” were popular both with established genre fans as well as readers who tend to traffic in more mainstream fare largely because they explored alternate outcomes for seminal events in history such as the American Civil War, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and World War II respectively. Motion pictures like Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Bastards (2009) presented an unconventional look into events that never quite took place during World War II; while flicks like The Final Countdown (1980) and the crowd-friendly Frequency (2000) questioned the morality of tampering with fate – even at its worst – in order to produce a more acceptable outcome. Even television has gotten into the business with programs like the BBC’s long-running Doctor Who, NBC’s Quantum Leap, Fox’s Slider, and UPN’s Seven Days questioning how a timeline’s subtle reshaping can produce devastating outcomes that reverberate across the space/time continuum. While I’m not suggesting each of these are perfect examples of Alternative History as its own unique category, I am underscoring that all of them share that unifying thread of “what if” that almost magically captivates us all … and will likely do so as long as storytellers weave webs for interested audiences.
Arguably, one of the better authors of the 20th Century to explore whole ‘what if’ perspective as it relates to Alternative History was the late Philip K. Dick. His “The Man In The High Castle” served as the inspiration for Amazon Prime’s streaming program of the same name, and the show recently bowed out of its original broadcast existence with the release of its fourth (and final) season.
I thought it apropos to sound off on it just a bit.
(NOTE: in the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the following review will contain MAJOR SPOILERS necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to stop reading right now. You’ve been warned. If, however, you’re accepting of some modest discussion into the shape of things, then read on …)
At the end of Season 3, Juliana Crane (played by Alexa Davalos) discovered that she had mastered the ability to move mentally between the various universes, thus escaping the clutches of the Third Reich but not without injury. As Season 4 opens, time has passed, wounds have healed, and yet our heroine finds herself still drawn to world of her birth with a desire to set things right. Eventually, an attempt on her life by universe-hopping agents serving Obergruppenführer John Smith (Rufus Sewell) propel her back into the Prime world, where she enacts a dangerous plan to end Smith’s reign once and for all.
Without divulging too many secrets (though I’ve already warned that there will be spoilers), not everyone returns to the popular program’s final season. Fan favorites are noticeably absent (some departures serve as essential plot points while others don’t), and I found it hard not to be affected by their nonappearance. Much of the High Castle’s past narrative appeal has been these characters’ various explorations of their own personal humanity and their struggle to maintain it when the greater world-at-large encourages an easier savageness (Nazism) or outright apathy (accepting one’s fate). As a result, there’s nearly no discussion of the Jewish plight (much less any discussions of faith except to the state), but maybe that was by design: after all, the Nazis weren’t all that fond of the Jewish people, now were they? Perhaps they'd wiped them all out by now?
At the end of Season 3, Juliana Crane (played by Alexa Davalos) discovered that she had mastered the ability to move mentally between the various universes, thus escaping the clutches of the Third Reich but not without injury. As Season 4 opens, time has passed, wounds have healed, and yet our heroine finds herself still drawn to world of her birth with a desire to set things right. Eventually, an attempt on her life by universe-hopping agents serving Obergruppenführer John Smith (Rufus Sewell) propel her back into the Prime world, where she enacts a dangerous plan to end Smith’s reign once and for all.
Without divulging too many secrets (though I’ve already warned that there will be spoilers), not everyone returns to the popular program’s final season. Fan favorites are noticeably absent (some departures serve as essential plot points while others don’t), and I found it hard not to be affected by their nonappearance. Much of the High Castle’s past narrative appeal has been these characters’ various explorations of their own personal humanity and their struggle to maintain it when the greater world-at-large encourages an easier savageness (Nazism) or outright apathy (accepting one’s fate). As a result, there’s nearly no discussion of the Jewish plight (much less any discussions of faith except to the state), but maybe that was by design: after all, the Nazis weren’t all that fond of the Jewish people, now were they? Perhaps they'd wiped them all out by now?
In its place, the showrunners and writing staff inserted a greater emphasis on race relations than what had come to the show before. (Apparently, the Japanese occupation of America’s West Coast is now only possible via black labor, with little to no explanation as to what happened to all of the ‘white folk.’) It’s all handled poorly, almost with a wink-and-a-nod: “this is the 1960’s, and American History of the 60’s was all about race relations.” There’s even a ‘Martin Luther King’ substitute – a revolutionary named Equiano Hampton – whose assassination fuels much of the Black Communist Rebellion (BCR) and its insurgent agenda, calling for a “black state” of its own or there will be no peace.
Don’t get me wrong when I say that I thought all of this could’ve been handled better: and – just to be perfectly clear – my point has nothing to do with race, race relations, or people of any color (though I’ve no doubt some readers may infer otherwise). All I’m trying to say is that given the show’s history – race had really only come up tangentially in previous seasons – much of the final season’s West Coast storyline felt like clunky posturing. These developments never felt natural and organic, while the demise of the Japanese interest in occupying America against a growing militant threat did; and I think that narrative disconnect does a disservice to a more serious discussion of race the show could’ve easily begun earlier … but methinks no one thought of it until they knew they needed something of lasting critical import for their swan song of a season.
Now, if that’s nitpicking, so be it. Nitpicking is a great way to voice frustration over something one cares about, and The Man In The High Castle has been a fascination of mine (and a growing audience) since developed on Amazon. Even casual fans care about stories; political posturing at the last minute – regardless of who’s doing it or what program it’s a part of – cheapens a story whenever it’s tried. Why? Well, I’d say mainly because it pushes solely the ideological elements therein … and hasn’t that been our complaint against Fascism since it reared its ugly head?
Don’t get me wrong when I say that I thought all of this could’ve been handled better: and – just to be perfectly clear – my point has nothing to do with race, race relations, or people of any color (though I’ve no doubt some readers may infer otherwise). All I’m trying to say is that given the show’s history – race had really only come up tangentially in previous seasons – much of the final season’s West Coast storyline felt like clunky posturing. These developments never felt natural and organic, while the demise of the Japanese interest in occupying America against a growing militant threat did; and I think that narrative disconnect does a disservice to a more serious discussion of race the show could’ve easily begun earlier … but methinks no one thought of it until they knew they needed something of lasting critical import for their swan song of a season.
Now, if that’s nitpicking, so be it. Nitpicking is a great way to voice frustration over something one cares about, and The Man In The High Castle has been a fascination of mine (and a growing audience) since developed on Amazon. Even casual fans care about stories; political posturing at the last minute – regardless of who’s doing it or what program it’s a part of – cheapens a story whenever it’s tried. Why? Well, I’d say mainly because it pushes solely the ideological elements therein … and hasn’t that been our complaint against Fascism since it reared its ugly head?
For those who thought High Castle was never a show somewhat grounded in politics, methinks many of them missed the big point: Fascism – of all kinds – is very real. (Simply put, a Nazi invasion is just as morally repugnant as is the political silencing of a single voice.) In fact, I’d argue that Facism has been, continues to be, and will always be mankind’s pervasive Achilles’ heel. It takes so many forms that it’s rarely properly identified (although it’s long been the province of the intellectual class to align it with right-leaning philosophies); and perhaps not everyone understands the nuances of social, cultural, and political oppression … yet that doesn’t make it any less possible or dangerous. A show predicated on not only what could’ve happened had the Nazis won World War II and reshaped the planet but also exploring the existence of countless other possibilities certainly requires a solid grasp on the political ramifications, though I’d be willing to concede that maybe Castle’s writers refrained from hitting that single drum once too often and/or once too loudly. Still, I heard it. I think others did, too.
And speaking about Fascists, what of John Smith?
Well, he fares about as well as any central villain can in any genre program.
He’s a flawed man who for reasons finally spelled out rather brilliantly in Season 4 has tied his, his family's, and his country’s future not so much to Nazi Germany as he has to his never-ending quest for power. With a name as common as ‘John Smith,’ methinks everyone knew his original fall from grace wasn’t going to be about grand schemes (though there is one here, which I’ll get to shortly). Instead, it was simply all over the need to be a good provider. When history called, Smith traded his humanity for bread and water. Given the circumstances, it’s an understandable betrayal but nonetheless necessary to put him on a path where turning one’s back on principle becomes the status quo.
Consequently, his moral epiphanies along the way up the political ladder are swallowed whole by his own wretched greed. Just when you think he’s learned his lesson, he proves otherwise, as is the case when the Jewish soldier he once aided he now deserts. He does this not because he’s written that way; rather, he does it to underscore that absolute power always has and always will corrupts absolutely. History accepts no less.
And speaking about Fascists, what of John Smith?
Well, he fares about as well as any central villain can in any genre program.
He’s a flawed man who for reasons finally spelled out rather brilliantly in Season 4 has tied his, his family's, and his country’s future not so much to Nazi Germany as he has to his never-ending quest for power. With a name as common as ‘John Smith,’ methinks everyone knew his original fall from grace wasn’t going to be about grand schemes (though there is one here, which I’ll get to shortly). Instead, it was simply all over the need to be a good provider. When history called, Smith traded his humanity for bread and water. Given the circumstances, it’s an understandable betrayal but nonetheless necessary to put him on a path where turning one’s back on principle becomes the status quo.
Consequently, his moral epiphanies along the way up the political ladder are swallowed whole by his own wretched greed. Just when you think he’s learned his lesson, he proves otherwise, as is the case when the Jewish soldier he once aided he now deserts. He does this not because he’s written that way; rather, he does it to underscore that absolute power always has and always will corrupts absolutely. History accepts no less.
Unfortunately, Smith’s personal journey is also interrupted this season by High Castle’s writing staff with the introduction of a plot twist so unanticipated, so world-changing, so massive that even M. Night Shyamalan may’ve given it pause: he manages to singlehandedly outsmart the entire Third Reich. I won’t spoil it more than that, other than to say it’s a hard pill to swallow for those of us who’ve been watching closely across four seasons. It happens, no matter how much I might disagree with it, and I'll let it be.
And, what, pray tell, of the ending?
Anyone who’s followed the media surrounding High Castle’s conclusion has undoubtedly stumbled across articles which try to “explain” the finale’s closing moments, some writers even going so far as to ask the showrunners what it all meant: third season’s portal between the parallel worlds has somehow mystically opened up across the various universes, and now regular Joes and Jills are simply walking willy-nilly into the Prime one. Was this meant to mean something greater about choice and chance, or will this go down in media history as Castle’s ‘jump the shark’ moment?
And, what, pray tell, of the ending?
Anyone who’s followed the media surrounding High Castle’s conclusion has undoubtedly stumbled across articles which try to “explain” the finale’s closing moments, some writers even going so far as to ask the showrunners what it all meant: third season’s portal between the parallel worlds has somehow mystically opened up across the various universes, and now regular Joes and Jills are simply walking willy-nilly into the Prime one. Was this meant to mean something greater about choice and chance, or will this go down in media history as Castle’s ‘jump the shark’ moment?
Well ...
As humans, we possess an intellectual inclination to ascribe ‘meaning’ to events. (Here’s where I get a bit philosophical, and – be warned again – others may disagree. Such is life.) We do this not because it’s a display of intelligence but rather because grasping the ever elusive ‘meaning’ implies that we understand it. We understand Life. We understand Fate. We may not like it. We don’t have to accept it. But if we understand something, then we establish dominance over it. Psychologically, this gives each of us the ability to get beyond tragedies and failures, and it also causes us to celebrate our respective achievements along the way. We convince ourselves that ‘this’ happened only because ‘that’ happened first, and such rationalizations are the bedrock of truly being able to get through all of it intact.
Still, the wiser among us are quick to remind that accidents happen, and accidents are rarely if ever predicated solely on the results of happy little equations.
So do those last scenes mean anything?
Personally, I think not.
What I do think is that the writers were intent upon saying something cumulatively about the journey they shared with their audience, and perhaps this is all they could agree on. (I’m of a mind nothing more was really needed after Smith’s self-inflicted departure as that told me all I really needed to know about what awaits most despots.) Maybe it was an attempt to flesh out a measure of happiness from a tale so heavily steeped in dire circumstances, political skullduggery, and cultural oppression. Or maybe it was an honest trick to show that every cloud has a silver lining, even a cloud brought to mankind by the National Socialist German Workers’ Party.
You give it the meaning you want. I’ll give it whatever meaning I want. ‘Nuff said.
Juliana’s struggle – finding her place in history in a world suddenly rife with possibility – managed to retain as much gusto as it had in Season 1; and, for that, I suppose viewers will always be happy with much of High Castle. As often as she was the victim here, she pushed back to display only the best of her individuality. She’s the hero, the waif, and the Kingslayer, all rolled up in one, though she never quite understood which role she was meant to play until History called upon her to complete the deed.
I’d like to think that’s who we all are.
As humans, we possess an intellectual inclination to ascribe ‘meaning’ to events. (Here’s where I get a bit philosophical, and – be warned again – others may disagree. Such is life.) We do this not because it’s a display of intelligence but rather because grasping the ever elusive ‘meaning’ implies that we understand it. We understand Life. We understand Fate. We may not like it. We don’t have to accept it. But if we understand something, then we establish dominance over it. Psychologically, this gives each of us the ability to get beyond tragedies and failures, and it also causes us to celebrate our respective achievements along the way. We convince ourselves that ‘this’ happened only because ‘that’ happened first, and such rationalizations are the bedrock of truly being able to get through all of it intact.
Still, the wiser among us are quick to remind that accidents happen, and accidents are rarely if ever predicated solely on the results of happy little equations.
So do those last scenes mean anything?
Personally, I think not.
What I do think is that the writers were intent upon saying something cumulatively about the journey they shared with their audience, and perhaps this is all they could agree on. (I’m of a mind nothing more was really needed after Smith’s self-inflicted departure as that told me all I really needed to know about what awaits most despots.) Maybe it was an attempt to flesh out a measure of happiness from a tale so heavily steeped in dire circumstances, political skullduggery, and cultural oppression. Or maybe it was an honest trick to show that every cloud has a silver lining, even a cloud brought to mankind by the National Socialist German Workers’ Party.
You give it the meaning you want. I’ll give it whatever meaning I want. ‘Nuff said.
Juliana’s struggle – finding her place in history in a world suddenly rife with possibility – managed to retain as much gusto as it had in Season 1; and, for that, I suppose viewers will always be happy with much of High Castle. As often as she was the victim here, she pushed back to display only the best of her individuality. She’s the hero, the waif, and the Kingslayer, all rolled up in one, though she never quite understood which role she was meant to play until History called upon her to complete the deed.
I’d like to think that’s who we all are.
- Published on
In my travels across the vast Information Superhighway, I'm always stumbling across some of the neatest places I've never seen previously. When I find something of interest, I do try to share it in this space with a respectable SciFi Shout-Out ...and today's is this nifty little corner of the web called Doux Reviews.
Essentially, Doux is this media review site that heavily leans toward genre properties like Star Trek, Doctor Who, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer (with many, many more also in tow); and it's writers are actively engaged in penning summaries and reviews regarding individual episodes. For example, I was this morning search for a photograph I could use for a classic Doctor Who adventure: Google turned up one that lead me directly to one of Doux's writers waxing on about the strengths and weaknesses of that particular episode. I ended up spending about twenty minutes shuffling around their site, checking out the who's, what's, and where's they've collected; and I have to say that I'm impressed with the quality of work. As happens, some of it is a bit brief and flashy, but much of it is very respectful of what the storytellers are trying to tell us in some of the best hours (and half-hours) in the history of television ... and beyond.
Episode reviews are something I'd love to (eventually) add to SciFiHistory.Net's pages as well. In the meantime, I'm happy to have found another place that enjoys genre work as much as I do.
Check them out! You can find their mainpage right here.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
Essentially, Doux is this media review site that heavily leans toward genre properties like Star Trek, Doctor Who, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer (with many, many more also in tow); and it's writers are actively engaged in penning summaries and reviews regarding individual episodes. For example, I was this morning search for a photograph I could use for a classic Doctor Who adventure: Google turned up one that lead me directly to one of Doux's writers waxing on about the strengths and weaknesses of that particular episode. I ended up spending about twenty minutes shuffling around their site, checking out the who's, what's, and where's they've collected; and I have to say that I'm impressed with the quality of work. As happens, some of it is a bit brief and flashy, but much of it is very respectful of what the storytellers are trying to tell us in some of the best hours (and half-hours) in the history of television ... and beyond.
Episode reviews are something I'd love to (eventually) add to SciFiHistory.Net's pages as well. In the meantime, I'm happy to have found another place that enjoys genre work as much as I do.
Check them out! You can find their mainpage right here.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
- Published on
Growing up when I did, our family didn't have the luxury of what the modern household provides for entertainment. These days, practically any program or motion picture is available at the click of a button; and future streaming promises to push the boundaries even more with each passing day.
But back in my youth, our television was lucky to receive six channels ... and even that was questionable if our town was hit with the occasional thunderstorm. Naturally, you had the three major networks, and local affiliate stations would supplement the big choices with smaller, syndicated, and largely forgettable fare. It was these secondary channels that held much of my interest for they'd play cartoons and kid-friendly live-action adventures -- many of them imported from Japan and the United Kingdom.
Well, it was on this podunk channel that I first discovered the beauty of 1962's The Brain That Wouldn't Die from Rex Carlton Productions. In it, poor Virginia Leith was reduced to little more than a head (see picture above): her character was killed in a car crash, and her boyfriend -- a scientist on the cutting edge of tomorrow -- created a means to keep her alive so that he could find a replacement body.
Essentially, the movie was a twist on the classic Frankenstein mythos, and -- for her part -- Leith did a masterful job at emoting just as much as she could to keep the audience believing that the impossible was possible. I've read that -- behind the scenes -- the actress hated the movie and her experience making it; and who could blame her? She spends the bulk of the action clearly immobile with her head wrapped in bandages, and I can't imagine those circumstances alone would've made for a great day at work.
For some reason, it seemed like this particular movie was always playing on that channel. I must've watched it a dozen times as a young'un. Even though I'd seen it before, it kept my interest each and every time it came on the Boob Tube. As formative experiences go, I probably should've turned out a serial killer -- or maybe a brain surgeon -- but I digress ...
I read this morning that the lovely Ms. Leith passed away recently at the ripe ol' age of 94. For what was once just a head, that's no small reward. May she rest in peace now that she's no longer actively portrayed 'in pieces.'
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
But back in my youth, our television was lucky to receive six channels ... and even that was questionable if our town was hit with the occasional thunderstorm. Naturally, you had the three major networks, and local affiliate stations would supplement the big choices with smaller, syndicated, and largely forgettable fare. It was these secondary channels that held much of my interest for they'd play cartoons and kid-friendly live-action adventures -- many of them imported from Japan and the United Kingdom.
Well, it was on this podunk channel that I first discovered the beauty of 1962's The Brain That Wouldn't Die from Rex Carlton Productions. In it, poor Virginia Leith was reduced to little more than a head (see picture above): her character was killed in a car crash, and her boyfriend -- a scientist on the cutting edge of tomorrow -- created a means to keep her alive so that he could find a replacement body.
Essentially, the movie was a twist on the classic Frankenstein mythos, and -- for her part -- Leith did a masterful job at emoting just as much as she could to keep the audience believing that the impossible was possible. I've read that -- behind the scenes -- the actress hated the movie and her experience making it; and who could blame her? She spends the bulk of the action clearly immobile with her head wrapped in bandages, and I can't imagine those circumstances alone would've made for a great day at work.
For some reason, it seemed like this particular movie was always playing on that channel. I must've watched it a dozen times as a young'un. Even though I'd seen it before, it kept my interest each and every time it came on the Boob Tube. As formative experiences go, I probably should've turned out a serial killer -- or maybe a brain surgeon -- but I digress ...
I read this morning that the lovely Ms. Leith passed away recently at the ripe ol' age of 94. For what was once just a head, that's no small reward. May she rest in peace now that she's no longer actively portrayed 'in pieces.'
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
- Published on
Those of us who seriously love our Science Fiction tend to seriously love "screencaps" of those particular episodes. It's a somewhat daunting and time-intensive process -- you'd never imagine the number of actors and actresses who manage to somehow miraculously blink at the same time -- so I don't go about it as often as I'd like but, rather, squeeze it in when I have a few precious moments to give. I won't bother you with how long it takes because -- at the end of the day -- celebrating SciFi is a labor of love as much as it is blood, sweat, and tears.
In any event, I took an afternoon (or more) to finally capture the fabulous first season ending "Flight Of The War Witch" from Buck Rogers In The 25th Century's first season, and parties interested in checking them out can do so by following the link right here. Be warned: there's a lot of images there, so it might take some time for the entire page to load. You may even have to hit refresh a time or two in order to see all of them. Such is the nature of data.
So ... Happy Friday! Thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
In any event, I took an afternoon (or more) to finally capture the fabulous first season ending "Flight Of The War Witch" from Buck Rogers In The 25th Century's first season, and parties interested in checking them out can do so by following the link right here. Be warned: there's a lot of images there, so it might take some time for the entire page to load. You may even have to hit refresh a time or two in order to see all of them. Such is the nature of data.
So ... Happy Friday! Thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
- Published on
From time to time, SciFiHistory.Net receives inquiries and or promotional links from link-minded individuals. As time permits, these get an honest 'looking over,' and those which are found of interest we're always ready, willing, and able to pass along.
For those who haven't heard of it, Walt Disney is launching a new streaming service, and one of its hot properties is the forthcoming live action series The Mandalorian. It's been created and written by Marvel favorite Jon Favreau, and the trailers certainly do look like it might be something special.
Like so many households, ours has a relatively limited 'entertainment budget,' so we don't actively belong to any streaming services presently other than Amazon Prime. This isn't to say that we don't feel streaming is the future: they said the same thing about BetaMax one day, people, so color us overly cautious about investing in yet one more portal.
Still, kudos to the MouseHouse for something which looks to be more in the spirit of the Original Trilogy of Star Wars films, something we've found lacking in The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi.
As always, live long and prosper ... and may the Force be with you!
For those who haven't heard of it, Walt Disney is launching a new streaming service, and one of its hot properties is the forthcoming live action series The Mandalorian. It's been created and written by Marvel favorite Jon Favreau, and the trailers certainly do look like it might be something special.
Like so many households, ours has a relatively limited 'entertainment budget,' so we don't actively belong to any streaming services presently other than Amazon Prime. This isn't to say that we don't feel streaming is the future: they said the same thing about BetaMax one day, people, so color us overly cautious about investing in yet one more portal.
Still, kudos to the MouseHouse for something which looks to be more in the spirit of the Original Trilogy of Star Wars films, something we've found lacking in The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi.
As always, live long and prosper ... and may the Force be with you!
- Published on
For those of you either living on an island or (as stereotypes would have it) living in your parents' basement, this week marks the release of the much-ballyhooed "final" Star Wars trailer ever -- JJ Abrams' Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker. In an attempt to bolster football's still sagging television ratings, the MouseHouse aired it during Monday Night Football and then blasted it to all corners of the Earth and beyond on the web not long thereafter.
As I've often warned, never put too much stock in trailers. Typically, they're put together by folks with a greater interest in 'marketing' the impending release, and there's very little emphasis on story. Instead, glitz and flash and pomp and circumstances rule the day, hinting at big moments that the studios seek to promote while quietly holding back their trump cards for audiences to relish on the silver screen. Furthermore, trailers have been shown throughout their history of pushing a particular theme or event or plotlines that may or may not figure prominently into the final cut, and for those reasons I learned long ago not to give them more focus than a passing glance.
For example: sure, it's cool to see what may be one of the ships from Star Wars: Rebels ... but, in the end, that may amount to nothing more than a two-second throwaway to a program that deserved more, especially more than a two-second throwaway. Dave Filoni's work on television (Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Star Wars: Rebels) is often cited as giving fans of the Original and Prequel Trilogies hope that Lucasfilm hasn't quite forgotten its roots; but I'll wait and see whether or not JJ and his Mouseketeers truly served those installments 'justice' or ponied up what little they could. (For what it's worth, I'm inclined to believe the latter and not the former.)
Despite my tendency to dismiss dissecting trailers, I'm willing to concede minimally that Rise honestly looks to dish out "more of the same" of what I've humorously termed 'the Incoherent Trilogy' as so very little of what's come from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi added up to anything substantial much less a true 'hero's quest.' While I've admitted time and again that neither film "felt" like they were constructed in the same vein as Lucas's earlier films, I've also said that I do tend to try and find things to like -- even in the worst cinematic experiences -- and both Awakens and Jedi provided me with enough escapism to appreciate the efforts of their respective storytellers, talent, and shapers.
So ... I know I'm a bit late to the party in hawking what promises to be 'the last film in the Star Wars saga,' I'm still giving it a nod today. Enjoy it for what it's worth ... and, as always, may the Force be with us, always ...
As I've often warned, never put too much stock in trailers. Typically, they're put together by folks with a greater interest in 'marketing' the impending release, and there's very little emphasis on story. Instead, glitz and flash and pomp and circumstances rule the day, hinting at big moments that the studios seek to promote while quietly holding back their trump cards for audiences to relish on the silver screen. Furthermore, trailers have been shown throughout their history of pushing a particular theme or event or plotlines that may or may not figure prominently into the final cut, and for those reasons I learned long ago not to give them more focus than a passing glance.
For example: sure, it's cool to see what may be one of the ships from Star Wars: Rebels ... but, in the end, that may amount to nothing more than a two-second throwaway to a program that deserved more, especially more than a two-second throwaway. Dave Filoni's work on television (Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Star Wars: Rebels) is often cited as giving fans of the Original and Prequel Trilogies hope that Lucasfilm hasn't quite forgotten its roots; but I'll wait and see whether or not JJ and his Mouseketeers truly served those installments 'justice' or ponied up what little they could. (For what it's worth, I'm inclined to believe the latter and not the former.)
Despite my tendency to dismiss dissecting trailers, I'm willing to concede minimally that Rise honestly looks to dish out "more of the same" of what I've humorously termed 'the Incoherent Trilogy' as so very little of what's come from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi added up to anything substantial much less a true 'hero's quest.' While I've admitted time and again that neither film "felt" like they were constructed in the same vein as Lucas's earlier films, I've also said that I do tend to try and find things to like -- even in the worst cinematic experiences -- and both Awakens and Jedi provided me with enough escapism to appreciate the efforts of their respective storytellers, talent, and shapers.
So ... I know I'm a bit late to the party in hawking what promises to be 'the last film in the Star Wars saga,' I'm still giving it a nod today. Enjoy it for what it's worth ... and, as always, may the Force be with us, always ...