Star Wars has been a fixture in my family for about as long as I’ve been alive. My youngest brother has the three original Star Wars movie posters hanging above his bed, my other brother has possibly the largest collection of Lego Star Wars models I’ve ever seen, and my dad has owned a boxed set of the movies for as long as I’ve known him. I myself have no shortage of Star Wars posters and hoodies and stickers scattered throughout my room.
So naturally, we were as psyched as ever for the final installment of the third trilogy, The Rise of Skywalker. The film, directed by J.J. Abrams, would be the conclusion of Rey, Finn, and Poe’s journeys as protagonists, and Kylo Ren’s end as this trilogy’s main antagonist. Based on the trailers, it certainly looked epic, full of high-stakes battles and mind-bending Force tricks. But the finale to this series, the finale to a story that has spanned generations, fell incredibly short, and may even be one of my least favorite Star Wars stories to date.
It’s not that I hated The Rise of Skywalker, though given the way I talk about it, people tend to think I do. I thought it was fun, and full of fan-pleasing throwbacks to the original series, as these epic conclusions tend to include (Avengers: Endgame was nothing more than a three-hour excuse to relive fan-favorite moments from the old movies).
The plot was remarkably similar to The Return of the Jedi, the final installment of the original trilogy. But that’s not where my issues lay; I loved The Force Awakens despite it’s unmistakable resemblance to A New Hope, the first Star Wars film. Rey, the protagonist of this film, even goes through a similar arc to Luke Skywalker, the protagonist of the original movies, as she wrestles with her own fears of turning to the Dark Side. I don’t have any real issue with this plot line, aside from the fact that it simply lacks creativity, especially when the end only reaffirms that people are either innately good or innately evil, not a complex mixture of both.
Rian Johnson, who directed The Last Jedi (the previous film in the trilogy), perfectly set up the chance for Abrams to explore the meaning of the “Light” and “Dark” sides of the Force. Though I’m not a huge fan of The Last Jedi either, Johnson was at least willing to push Star Wars in a new direction, which he did by highlighting the ways in which the Force is neither “light” nor “dark.” The power of the Force lies with how its users manipulate it, and no one person who manipulates it is either wholly good or wholly evil. We are all a bit of both, and what matters is the way in which we use the tools at our disposal.
No, my two biggest issues were with the characters themselves, because it has felt to me for a long time that screenwriters have sacrificed a good, well-established character arc in favor of flashy CGI and a shocking plot twist.
Kylo Ren did absolutely nothing to deserve his redemption arc. Cue the angry comments and furious hate posts that invoke wrath to my name and send curses upon my firstborn. I don’t particularly care, because Kylo Ren proved time and time again throughout the series that he’s nothing more than an angry white man, bitter about his lack of power in the world. It’s all too similar to some of the villains we face in real life. He has no tragic backstory or reason to kill legions of innocent people, he just does (not that there ever is a valid reason for that, of course, but storytellers generally try to give us a why).
Perhaps I could have gotten behind his redemption arc if it were actually well executed, but unfortunately, it lacked the aspects I consider vital when writing a compelling character redemption. There are beautiful ways to write redemption arcs, and for that, I simply direct anyone who asks to the Avatar: The Last Airbender television series. One of the main characters of the show, Zuko, undergoes a massive redemption arc, but only after he is faced directly with the horrible consequences of his actions. He is forced, in uncomfortable, harsh, and often heart-breaking moments, to confront the pain he caused, and viewers can watch him learn and grow from his actions. Zuko’s journey isn’t perfect, nor is it easy, but that makes him deserve it in a way that Kylo Ren did not. Kylo Ren was not forced to reckon with what he did; we had flashy fight scene and suddenly he’s somehow “good” again. This also falls victim to the extreme light-and-dark dichotomy that Star Wars tends to draw: now that Kylo Ren fights for the good guys, he’s forgiven, regardless of the literal planets of people he has murdered.
My second biggest issue was with the continued emphasis on bloodline, and how it completely diminished the character journey Rey went on in The Last Jedi. The focus of that movie, which I respected despite its flaws, was that your name, your family didn’t matter. Anyone could be a Jedi, an idea that was reaffirmed in the final shot of the film, when a young child holds up a broomstick like a lightsaber. Rey learns that she is not a Skywalker or a Kenobi or a descendant of the big-named characters from the past six movies, and though fans disagreed with this decision at the time, I personally liked it. It allowed Rey to become her own character — an important development, especially as the first female lead of a Star Wars film. Women are so often defined by the men that came before them, but Rey wasn’t, Rey was her own character, someone new. She was a promise that the Jedi belonged to everyone.
The Rise of Skywalker reversed all of that. It maintained that though Rey’s parents weren’t important, but her grandparents were. It’s revealed in the film that Rey is the granddaughter of Emperor Palpatine, the big-bad of the past six movies (and, ultimately, the big-bad of the final three as well, the audiences just don’t know it until the final film). As Rey grapples with the fallout of being related to the ultimate evil being in the universe, I sit and stew angrily in my seat, wondering why every Jedi needs an all-powerful ancestor, and why every woman can only be defined through the context of a man more powerful than her.
Of course, I can’t finish this review without one final mention of Finn and Poe. Though I love the two characters and their irresistible charm, Disney’s treatment of them has grown increasingly questionable since fans started pairing them off romantically. Both have been forced into romantic subplots in the past two movies, as what can likely be seen as a way to “prove” their heterosexuality to viewers.
But this is a Star Wars movie, and there was an underlying message of hope that got me through it. It’s one of the things that has made me love Star Wars since I was six and watched Luke Skywalker hold a lightsaber in his hands for the first time. The Rise of Skywalker does continue to shine through with its message of hope. The scene in which former-Stormtrooper Finn meets a whole squadron of escaped Stormtroopers was a touching testament to the strength inside all people, and the final battle reminds us that we are never quite as alone as we think.
I love a well-choreographed lightsaber fight as much as the next Star Wars nerd, but even that wasn’t enough to distract from how poorly executed this final installment was. Full of rushed conclusions and needless character redemptions, The Rise of Skywalker failed to do what more recent Star Wars stories like Rogue One and The Mandalorian have done: push the boundaries of the world to tell new stories, ones that need to be told in our modern era.
Lauren Patetta 
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