Movie Review: "Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi" (REDUX)

Review Addendum added 2/16/2022.

Since Disney always intended to make a trilogy after acquiring the Star Wars property from George Lucas for $4.1 billion dollars, I always suspected that my initial reviews of the first two films were little more than temporary placeholders. 

So, now that Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker has been out for a good two years now, I find myself in a very unusual situation. Even though I'm loathe to  revisit reviews, I feel compelled to do it in this particular case. Based on the final product, I want to go back and take a good, hard look the first two films of the trilogy.

Naturally, I started things off with The Force Awakens, but now it's time to move onto the contentious middle chapter: Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi. 

Instead of deleting, augmenting or altering my original review in any way, I've decided to annotate any places where time, deeper consideration, or The Rise of Skywalker, have altered my opinions. You'll see these comments throughout in bold italics.

Okay, so on to the original review:

So, here we are. Another year, another Star Wars movie.

Hey, Disney! Since I know you read every one of my reviews, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret:

People can get sick of Star Wars.

Don't believe me? Well, I've seen it happen before. After 1983's Return of the Jedi, people were positively done with it. And that included me, the most passionate, crazed fan that George Lucas ever could have hoped to indoctrinate. But, even at the tender age of thirteen, I knew that the brightest flames burn out the quickest. And, honestly, at that stage in my life, I was okay to put Star Wars behind me and move on to other things. 
 
So, Disney, I really think you need to cool it after Episode IX. Because, I assure you, there can be too much of a good thing, especially when good things are getting increasingly scarce.

Reading this now, it's as if I knew what was coming. A huge contingent of Star Wars fans absolutely loathed The Last Jedi, and basically boycotted Solo when it was released six months later. Which is kind of a shame, since I think that flick has the most cohesive script of all the Disney Star Wars movies. 

Fun experiment: if someone tells me that they loathed The Last Jedi, I always ask them what they thought of Rogue One. If they say "Oh, bro, I totally LOVED that movie!" then I just smile politely and change the conversation 'cuz I recognize a bridge too far when I see it. 

More on the inexplicable cult of Rogue One later. 

Before we continue, please permit me a brief autobiographical note. I've been a diehard Star Wars fan since May of 1977. After the saga went to fallow for over fifteen years, the prequels had tremendous potential to tap into nostalgia and add to the myth. Unfortunately, the resulting "films" were clearly made by someone who couldn't reconcile his role as THE SOLE CREATOR with the obvious limits of his talent.

I never thought I'd say this, but in some ways, the sequel films kinda make the prequels look good in comparison. Sure, the prequels have shitty dialogue, infantile situations, bad CGI, boring characters, questionable motivations and nonsensical plotting, but at least they have a single cohesive and thematic story...and they're the product of one man's creative spark. As opposed to something rushed out the door as a return on net assets.  

The Force Awakens brought me back into the fold somewhat. Even though that movie was blatantly derivative and many of the things that happened on screen ranged from inexplicable to downright stupid, I still liked the characters. Sure, we didn't get nearly as much time establishing Daisy Ridley's Rey as we did with Luke in A New Hope, but it was more than I expected. After all, we live in a day and age where solid character development and good dialogue is unfairly written off as "the most boring-est parts" of a movie.

Attention spans aren't what they used to be. Jay Bauman of Red Letter Media tells a pretty sad story about a screening of Jurassic Park. During the show, he noticed that there were two 18-year-old girls on their phones the entire time. When it was over, one turned to the other and said "Well, that was the most boring movie ever!"

But then I think about how many people love talky, character-driven stuff like Breaking Bad, Mad Men, The Expanse and Game of Thrones. Clearly, people don't mind intricate plotting and decent character development. Which makes me wonder if it's a case of the tail wagging the dog: I.E. movie producers hire ADD hacks like J.J. Abrams because they think that the average movie-goer has the same power to focus as a squirrel. 

And then there's Rogue One. Whooo, boy, what can I say about that crushing bore? The first third is a meandering, intergalactic travelogue, the second third is a tangled mess of failed character development and senseless plot points and the final third is a bloated action sequence. The latter, BTW, might be thrilling at first, but it starts to feel increasingly vapid and boring when you realize that nothing that came before it makes a lick of sense.

I know that this is a really unpopular opinion, but I still don't like Rogue One. Beyond the aforementioned reasons, I also hate how drab and murky-looking the films is. It doesn't jibe visually with A New Hope at all. Add in a creepy-looking CGI Peter Cushing and Carrie Fisher, a lack of design innovation, needless Vader cameos and low-key stupid shit like a Star Destroyer suspended in a planetary atmosphere (a bigger universe-breaker than a Holdo maneuver, IMHO), I actually hate this movie a little bit more every time I see it.  

So, when I sat down to watch The Last Jedi, I was feeling pretty guarded. And even though it's the best Disney-stamped Star Wars entry to date, I still can't shake that sinking feeling that nothing is planned out and the creative team is hurtling off in a bunch of random directions.

BING! BING! BING! Give the man a prize! When The Rise of Skywalker was released two years after I wrote this, my suspicions were confirmed. And that's why it's so important to go back and re-evaluate my take on these first two movies. It's kinda hard to pass judgement on something when you only have access to two-thirds of the story.  

Not like there isn't any historic precedence for this. Nowadays, story arcs for books, television shows and even movies are meticulously pre-plotted out. However, if you know anything about the making of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi you'll know that virtually nothing that ended up on-screen was planned out back in 1976. And, honestly, if the sterile, predictable safety net that passes for a plot in The Force Awakens gets irreversibly shredded, I won't shed a single tear.

I still agree with this. If the choice is seeing something new versus a sitting through a soft reboot, I'll always opt for the former. Usually the latter turns out to be a dull, predictable shadow of its original inspiration. 

For the first time since The Empire Strikes Back, I had no effin' clue what was going to happen in a Star Wars movie and that's just about the highest praise I can give to it. Conversely, a lot of people, particularly rabid fans, seem pissed off by what happens, and even more telling, what doesn't happen in this movie. Good. When movies cater solely to expectations and don't challenge people, that's when they cease to be interesting and become the cinematic equivalent of fast food. 

I still support this statement 100%. If you don't think I'm right, go watch The Rise of Skywalker. The script for that mess plays out like the accumulated blizzard of script notes from a Reddit post.

Oh, and for the record, I love the idea of expectations being subverted, but not if it's merely contradiction or the automatic nay-saying of whatever the other person said. Then it becomes the equivalent of a Monty Python skit.  

First off, the opening battle sequence is fantastic. Oscar Isaac's hot-shot pilot Poe Dameron is trying to take on the whole First Order fleet by himself. Of all the characters in this movie, it's his arc I like the best. Yes, that's right, a legitimate, bonafide, died-in-the-wool character arc. It's the sort of basic storytelling ingredient that's completely absent in the inexplicably-lauded Rogue One.

After going against the direct orders of General Leia Organa (elegantly realized by the late, great Carrie Fisher), Poe literally gets smacked down with a demotion. Eventually he starts to realize that  rash, emotional, gut decisions often results in more ruin than right. Needless to say, this is a particularly relevant sentiment as we move into 2018.

Now armed with 20/20 hindsight, Poe's "arc" is really problematic. First off, the "bombing run" scene isn't "fantastic", it's patently idiotic. Clearly, these ships are slow, ponderous and meant to attack stationary ground targets. They shouldn't even be in the Resistance Fleet, but Rian Johnson wanted his World War II / Dam Busters homage, so we'll let it ride.

In The Force Awakens, Poe is introduced as a perfect pilot and tactician. So, when Rian Johnson inherited this non-starter set-up, he did what any decent writer would do: find the flaws in his hero. So he takes the prior film's suggestion that Poe is an impulsive hot-shot and has him attack the dreadnought alone, which leads to the bomber fleet getting wiped out. It's a long, dumb walk to get there, but at least he's got something to work with now.    

Unfortunately, Johnson quickly muddies the waters. After Leia tells Poe that "not every problem can be solved by jumping in an X-Wing and blowing things up", the fleet is attacked again and she immediately ignores her own advice. 

What happens between him and Holdo makes this situation even worse. 

Poe eventually learns this lesson, even if the script has to do some pretty kooky contortions to get him there. His main foil, Laura Dern's Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo, is great and all, but her entire role should have been split between Leia and fan-favorite Admiral Ackbar. I think it would have been a lot more impactful if writer / director Rian Johnson used already-established characters instead of dragging new ones into the mix.

The Last Jedi is my favorite Disney sequel film. I know that ain't sayin' much, but do with that what you will.  

I like it mainly because it tries to do something different, as opposed to the paint-by-numbers bookends that Abrams crapped out. Honestly, what hurts The Last Jedi the most is Rian Johnson's galloping ego. Instead of focusing on the toys left for him, he casts them aside so he can make his own mark on the Star Wars saga, in the form of  Holdo, DJ and Rose. More on that rogues gallery a bit later.  

Given Leia's recent admonishment and their oil-meets-water chemistry, I suppose it makes sense that Holdo keeps her secret plans from Poe. Unfortunately, this drives him completely nuts with curiosity. Regardless, I love the fracture this creates in the Resistance leadership. It's a new dynamic which we haven't seen before and, like I said, if it ain't new, it ain't worth bothering. 

Honestly, I'm just making excuses for Johnson here. As I see it, there are two practical  reasons why Holdo doesn't keep Poe in the loop, both of which make zero sense from a plot perspective. They are:

1. It inspires and drives the Finn and Rose sub-plot.
2. It forwards Poe's "arc." 

Unfortunately, these are the audience take-aways:  

1. Just who is this bossy, bitchy purple-haired chick? Since we've already spent time with Poe, we know and trust him. After all, he helped destroy Starkiller Base in the first movie, so he's kind of a big reason why the Resistance still exists. We're never really on Holdo's side, and we actually want Poe to remain resolute. Yeah, his attack on the dreadnought was reckless, but he did it out of bravery. 
2. In order for Poe's "arc" story to work, Holdo must be right and our favorite hot-headed pilot must be wrong. Unfortunately, that's not the case. As a top-tier member of the Resistance, he's completely justified at being pissed off for being shut out of Holdo's orbit. 
3. But Holdo doesn't just shut Poe out, does she? She's snarky, evasive and condescending to him, I.E. a terrible leader. With so many women marginalized, patronized and flat-out dismissed in so many work environments, I can only assume that Johnson is making some sort of "space shoe on the other foot" observation. If that's the case, two wrongs don't make a right and we've got bigger fish to fry and we've got a star war to worry about here!  

Going back to Carrie Fisher for a moment: she's wonderful. It's a cruel twist of fate that took her from us so early, especially when you consider how hypothetically pivotal she was to the resolutions we'll hopefully get in Episode IX. Here she's elegant, sardonic, commanding and funny. I just wish the Force was a real thing and we could get Carrie back again. We all miss her terribly and the world is a darker place without her in it.

Holdo should never have been in this movie...it should have been Leia versus Poe the entire time. Poe does something hot-headed and impulsive, he fucks up, Leia has to teach him discipline and restraint, he applies this knowledge and, in the end, this helps him save the day. 

Keep in mind that "learning discipline and restraint" is a far cry from Rian Johnson's final message to Poe which seems to be "don't think independently, follow orders blindly and then hope for the best." This is downright contrary to the original message that kids picked up back in 1977.   

This leads me to Adam Driver's Kylo Ren. I've said this before but it bears repeating: if Disney is gonna force-feed (pun not intended) us a bunch of arguably-superfluous Star Wars movies, I'm really glad that he's a part of it. For far too long, the villains in Star Wars have been overtly fetishized. Back in the day, we recognized the stormtroopers, Darth Vader and Boba Fett as undeniably cool, but we also saw them as major assholes. Nowadays, the Dark Side is increasingly represented as a legitimate choice.

And that's what makes Kylo Ren such a wonderful character. I see him as a living, breathing parody of neck-bearded fanboys who orgasmed in their Underoos when Darth Vader made his "bad-ass" appearance in Rogue One. He shows us that the Dark Side isn't particularly rewarding or welcoming, it's more like a half-way house for sad, bitter, dorky outcasts who won't be happy until everyone else is equally miserable. Adam Driver does a great job oscillating back and forth between menacing, petulant and vulnerable.

Yup. I loves me some Kylo Ren and Rian Johnson did some genuinely interesting stuff with him here. 

Then there's Daisy Ridley, who continues to be inhumanly charming and charismatic as Rey. Unlike Poe, Rey doesn't really get a character arc and seems just as lost and confused at the end of the film as she was in the beginning. Sure, she learns that blind hero worship is bad and slavishly-adhering to the failed tenants of the past are a symptom of madness, but I'm not sure this qualifies as legitimate character growth.

Again, faced with the crushing bore of making Rey the offspring of Luke or Obi-Wan,  Rian opted out and made her a nobody. And honestly, his democratization of the Force was really interesting to me. Unfortunately, J.J. Abrams bombed back into town and dust-binned all of this with his cheap and obnoxious laser light show. 

Which is a real pity. At one point, Rey and Kylo share the callback to Empire where Vader invites a beaten Luke to join him, defeat Palpatine and rule the galaxy as father and son. Even though things do play out differently, I really wish Rian Johnson had doubled down on this departure. I think it would have been great if Rey actually joined Kylo and convinced him to stay his hand against the Resistance. The next movie would then be all about Rey trying to steer him back to the light and hand over the reigns of power.

I still love this idea and wish The Last Jedi ended with Rey taking Kylo's hand. It would have been bold, original, interesting and I would have legit cared about the final film. 

Some folks are also losing their shit over Rey's domestic origins, but I completely understand why Rian Johnson went this route. What else were you expecting? People with entirely too much time on their hands have spent the past two years speculating about her parentage ad nauseum, so wouldn't it have been boring to go down one of these obvious avenues? I'm delighted that Johnson willfully upset this OCD apple cart, democratizing the Force in the process. Hopefully J.J. Abrams wont retcon this in the cinematic equivalent of dueling banjos.

Hi-yo! I totally called it! 

Sadly, John Boyega's Finn continues to be a non-entity to me. Once again, we get absolutely no explanation as to why his First Order programming didn't take, why he switched allegiances on a dime and then proceeded to massacre his equally-deluded squad-mates without hesitation. I wish he'd been allowed to go AW.OL after Rey instead of being saddled with a wacky misadventure. We might have gotten some legit character development and maybe his story would have dove-tailed with the main plot a bit better.

This x 100. As I mentioned in my Force Awakens Redux review, Finn got shortchanged more than any other character. And John Boyega knows it. 

The Canto Bright scene is fine enough. In fact, I really appreciate the social commentary that writer Rian Johnson makes about war profiteering. Using Empire as a template, one might see the First Order's pursuit of the Resistance fleet as Vader's hunt for the Millennium Falcon. That would make Rey's storyline comparable to Luke's training on Dagobah. Unfortunately, that leaves "Finn and Rose go to Space Las Vegas" feeling decidedly superfluous. 

Correction: the Canto Bight scene isn't fine...it's a spectacular waste of time, money and effort. I basically boils down to another superfluous pleasure palace decreed by Rian "Kubla Khan" Johnson. 

One thing I do like about their mission is that, once again, things don't work out the way they (and we) expected. Such is life. Yes, their mission is kind of a bust but Finn and Rose manage to put a sizable space fly in the punch bowl of some interstellar one-percenters,  while giving the next generation some hope and heroism. I just wish this could have been done in a more economic fashion. 

Hey, look, I love it when a movie breaks away from conventions. I like it when unexpected  complications force a plan to be altered and our heroes are constantly walking a tightrope of disaster. But this whole sequence feels like a completely pointless diversion from Finn's main goal as it was established in The Force Awakens. As soon as he "came to", he should be left to find Rey in an effort to protect her at all costs.     

Perhaps the most unfortunate example of Finn's storyline getting short-shift is his truncated confrontation with Phasma. Honestly I have no clue why Gwendoline Christie took this role since all Phasma ever does is show up and get her shiny metal ass kicked. During their brief tete-a-tete, not only do we get zero insight into the origin of their mutual hatred, the goofy spectacle unfolding all around completely flushes any tension down the space-loo.

Even though Rian Johnson is David Lean compared to J.J. Abrams, the Finn / Rose / BB-8 escape scene feels shockingly fake and, as a result, completely devoid of any genuine tension. Phasma's fate was so boring, anti-climactic and pointless that I kinda hoped that she wasn't dead. By the time she failed to materialize in The Rise of Skywalker, I switched to feeling happy for Gwendoline for dodging another bullet.    

As for the dynamic between Finn and Rose, it's pleasant enough, but if it was done just to set up a love triangle and make some superfluous points about arms dealers, there were certainly easier and more relevant ways to accomplish this. Like Admiral Holdo, the things that Rose is tasked to do could have been given to a preexisting character. This would have kept the focus on our established heroes and not inflated the film's run time. 

Again, Rose is there simply because Rian Johnson wanted to put his own, personal stamp on the Star Wars saga. And while I have no issue with him doing that, these characters have to serve some sort of purpose. Otherwise, please concentrate on developing the characters you inherited.   

P.S. Kelly Marie Tran is an absolute delight and she didn't deserve all of the insane hate that asshole fans sent her way. She was legit happy to be in a Star Wars movie and you pricks tore her apart. When will you mouth-breathers realize that, nine times out of ten,  shitty characters begin and end with the writer and director?  

But, alas, I can only talk about the film that was made, not the speculative one. At the very least we're treated to a twitchy, hypnotic and unpredictable Benicio del Toro as DJ. Notwithstanding his Roger Rabbit-esque speech pattern, del Toro gets some choice lines which call into question the very nature of Star Wars. In much the same way that Randall in Clerks ponders the fate of innocent contractors on the second Death Star, del Toro makes us wonder where all of this war materiel is coming from and how fuzzy the line is between "good guys" and "bad guys."

D.J. is fine, but you already had a shady, fringe character in the form of Maz Kanata. Unfortunately, here she's relegated to a dumb, pointless cameo. Which makes you wonder: is this another example of Baby Rian refusing to play with the older toys he inherited from his big brother J.J.?  

Awrite, let's talk about Monsieur Skywalker. First off, I love his reaction to the lightsaber. Folks have to understand that we haven't seen Luke in thirty years, so naturally he isn't the same resolved, idealistic person we see at the end of ROTJ. He's come to the logical conclusion that the Jedi are nothing but an abject failure, so he's sequestered himself away to atone for his past deeds, reflect on his hubris and make sure that he never makes the same mistakes again. 

Again, what do you do if you're Rian Johnson here? Basically he's taken on the unenviable task of trying to explain why Luke Skywalker, one of the most beloved and resolute heroes in modern fiction, abandoned his family and friends and went into hiding. Rian can't even spend very much run time to do this 'cuz he has to deal with the Abrams crew and all of his stupid new characters. 

If Luke experienced something so traumatic that he had a mental breakdown, that might make sense. I'm willing to buy that Snoke stoked (snoked?) the fire of the Dark Side in Ben, and when the boy snapped, Luke's perceived failure as a Jedi Master really fucked him up. But, in the same way it's monumentally stupid for Padme to "lose the will to live" after giving birth to twins, it's also fundamentally idiotic that Luke didn't to try to  make things right by Leia and Han. 

That's why everyone hates Luke's depiction in The Last Jedi. The most skilled writer in the world couldn't square those edges over the course of a dedicated trilogy, let alone a few scattered flashbacks in a single film.     

That's all well and good, but I can't quite reconcile his stubborn refusal to leave the island and help. He's just been told that his best buddy is dead and his sister is on the verge of capture or annihilation. Upon hearing that, I don't think even bitter, jaded, crusty ol' Luke would continue to milk sea cows and go spear fishing. My main reason for believing this is that he left a map to his location lying around.

Precisely. With Leia and Han left heartbroken, I Luke that would willingly die in the attempt to get Ben back from Snoke.  

So, honestly, if Star Wars fans are gonna hate on anyone, hate on J.J. Abrams. He's the moron who crammed Luke into one of his stupid mystery boxes and neglected to punch any airholes for him.   

Otherwise I really like what they did with him. Mark Hamill is at the height of his thespic powers and he's riveting whenever he's on screen. Despite my own doubts, Hamill's conviction sold me on Luke's resolve, regret and trepidation. The way he factors into the film's climax is surprising, satisfying and, most importantly, it doesn't undermine everything that came before it. In the end, Luke learns that buying into your own hype can be dangerous, but legends are instrumental in sparking a revolution.

Despite famously telling Rian Johnson that he "fundamentally disagrees" with Rian's "concept of Luke and how you use him, Mark still gave it his all. Bless his heart. It's a testament to his ample skills that he managed to sell Luke's uncharacteristic behavior as well as he did.

This alone is a minor miracle since The Last Jedi script seems bound and determined to put Rey on a pedestal while shoving Luke into a gutter. Witness:

• She respectfully tries to give Anakin's recovered lightsaber back to Luke, who  immediate hucks it away like she just handed him a religious tract.
• Rey tells Luke about Han's death and his reaction is best described as "nonplussed." 
• During a lesson, Luke tells Rey that the Force is "not about lifting rocks." But guess how the movie ends? 
• “You think what? I’m gonna walk out with a laser sword and stare down the whole First Order?” Well, in the end, he does precisely that.
• When they eventually have a physical confrontation, Rey nearly puts the legendary Luke on his ass.  
• Sure he delays the First Order invasion, but when Luke schools Kylo in the "projection duel" it seems to have zero impact on the fallen pupil's behavior. 

A part of me thinks that a film-maker has to be a bit nuts in order to tackle a Star Wars movie. You know, the same level of narcissism needed to to be the President of the United States. Like J.J., I think Rian really wanted to foist Rey up as a great new, modern, diverse character...but he felt compelled to make the older guard look weak and diminished in the process.  

So, I guess all that's left now is address the nitpick-y crap that people are losing their collective marbles over. So let's knock these off as quickly as possible:

• How do the Resistance bombs drop on the dreadnought? Ummm...because there's gravity in the bomber and the momentum carries them through space? Don't buy that? Then stick around and I'll trot out at least a half dozen more reasons as to why you really need to get a life. I think this scene's biggest issue isn't the bombs but the bombers. There's no reason for the Resistance to own these ships, let alone deploy them against an enemy dreadnought. 
• The humor. Actually I kinda liked the humor for the most part. Poe is this trilogy's Han Solo so why wouldn't he act like a disrespectful twat to Hux? Rey inadvertently wrecking the caretaker's wheelbarrow also really cracked me up. In hindsight, Poe's "yo momma" joke only serves to devalue Hux and the First Order as credible threats. At no point in the trilogy do the villains ever seem particularly competent or effective. Hell, most of the time they don't even seem particularly villainous. 
• Yoda. Some folks are wondering why Yoda is acting like his goofy, pre-reveal self in Empire. Well, what's wrong with that? Clearly that's a part of his persona, so why not use it to make a point with Luke? Honestly people, pick and choose your damn battles. Agree. The point is moot. 
• "Space Flight" Leia. Look, I love the fact that my girl finally gets a chance to manifest the Force, I just would have chosen to do it a bit differently. Perhaps when the First Order hit the bridge, she could have used her powers to "act on instinct" and prevent explosive decompression. The way it happens in the film it's clearly designed to generate some cheap tension and put her out of commission for a bit.  I still despise this scene, but mainly because it sidelines Carrie Fisher in lieu of moving Holdo to the forefront. Basically it happens to further Rian Johnson's idiotic "keep away" mystery. 
• Porgs. They're cute and not nearly as annoying as Ewoks. I'm amused by their sense of entitlement and get a kick outta that one little feller stamping on the discarded lightsaber. Two flightless wings up for these imminently-marketable, but still harmless, l'il fuckers. Bonus points: Chewie's Galactic Test Kitchen proves that they plump up nicely when you cook 'em! Related.
  

Last but not least, the people who are livid over The Last Jedi really need to do some soul searching. First off, they need to re-watch the prequels, which, in my opinion, barely qualify as a series of moving images. Moreover, they need to ask themselves what they expect to see in these new Star Wars films...and then promptly chuck it all into the trash compactor.

Did they really want to see Snoke as Palpatine 2.0? Did they really want Rey to be related to Han or Luke or Obi-Wan or Lando? Did they really want to see Kylo and Luke fight to the death? C'mon, people! We've seen all of that done so well before that we keep loitering around like lost dogs sniffing around for table scraps. 

I think it goes without saying, but I would never have written this paragraph if I thought there was the remotest chance of Abrams bringing Palpatine back in The Rise of Skywalker. 

In light of what we got, even my half-baked ideas sound better. My concept would have explained Rey's inordinate power, retained her humble origins, kept the Emperor dead, justified Luke's decision to exile, had Kylo and Snoke preserved as the main villains and followed through on Maz's "story for another time." 

In my sequel trilogy, we'd see that Luke's lightsaber was recovered by the Imperials on Bespin and ends up with the First Order after the fall of Palpatine. With Luke's hand still gripping the weapon, the villains attempt to clone him. Thanks to Snoke's dark influence, one candidate from this experiment lives. 

Maz Kanata hears about this through her connections and, realizing that no good can come of it, co-ordinates a raiding party which recovers the clone child and the weapon. Fearing for Rey's safety, Maz entrusts the baby to adoptive parents on Jakku who, unfortunately, turn out to be deadbeats. 

Over the intervening years, the First Order continues to surge, prompting the New Republic to develop a super-weapon designed to annihilate their fleet. Leia is opposed to the concept and she's soundly supported by Han and Luke, which would give us a badly-needed scene of all three of them together. During this time we also see Luke teaching at his Jedi Academy, trying to deal with Ben Solo, Leia and Han's headstrong son. 

At one point, Luke is overcome by the Dark Side of the Force. Convinced that Ben is on the verge of doing something awful, he confronts the young man, fully intent on killing him. Ben defends himself, and a vicious battle ensues at the school, with Ben and his allies killing Luke's loyal students and leaving the Jedi Master for dead.

It's revealed that, in addition to Snoke luring Ben to the Dark Side, he's also responsible for Luke's murderous impulses. Concerned that he might harm someone else, Luke goes into self-exile. He retreats to the first Jedi Temple to seek solace and answers, while Ben, now renamed Kylo Ren, leads a daring First Order attack on the super-weapon. Instead of destroying it, they capture it to use against the New Republic fleet, destroying some key planets in the process.

After Poe is captured while seeking information about Snoke, he's busted out by a rogue stormtrooper named Finn and they encounter Rey on Jakku. Han rushes to save them and eventually the Force leads Rey back to Maz and the Skywalker lightsaber. With that, the stage is set for a decent conclusion.  

Hey, I know it's not perfect, but I'm willing to wager that I just put more thought, effort, care and insight into this story than J.J. Abrams ever did.    

One last point before I drop the saber hilt and peace out. I was there in 1980 when The Empire Strikes Back broke my fragile eggshell mind. Ten year old me came out of that first screening legitimately pissed off. How dare they take my fictional friends, who's G-rated adventures I'd been continuing via action figures over the past three years, and drag them through a black hole of misery? 

Well, it taught me a valuable lesson that I'll paraphrase from The Rolling Stones: "you don't always get what you want but you might just get what you need." And like it or not, this post-modern Star Wars film is precisely what we need. Otherwise, the entire saga is in danger of become 

Given my time back, I'd definitely replace "like it or not, this post-modern Star Wars film is precisely what we need" with "we really need a post-modern Star Wars film to give us what we need."  

'Cuz, as it turned out, "an irrelevant and repetitive passion play" is just about as apt a description for The Rise of Skywalker as I can think of.  

Tilt: down.

Movie Review: "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" (1974) by David Pretty

AUGUST 18'TH, 1973

Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns) heads out on a road trip to find her abandoned childhood home in what I can only describe as Defilement County, Texas. Along for the ride is her wheel-chair bound brother Franklin (Paul A. Partain) as well as her friends Kirk (William Vail), Pam (Teri McMinn) and Jerry (Allen Danziger).

After a harrowing encounter with a crazed Hitchhiker (Edwin Neal), their van runs out of gas, prompting Kirk to investigate a nearby farmhouse for help. This inadvertently stirs up the Sawyer clan, a crazed group of homicidal rednecks who's chief guard dog / pet ogre, Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen), decides to pick off the interlopers one at a time.

What follows is a spooky little cinematic romp that pairs nicely with such family-friendly fare as Hocus Pocus, The Addams Family or Caspar for a pleasant Halloween movie night. 

WHY THE LAST STATEMENT IS A DIRTY, DIRTY LIE

This movie wastes no time establishing a mood of total, abject horror. After John Larroquette's oddly incongruous voice over narration, director Tobe Hooper segues into a pitch dark screen where the only sounds we hear is a shovel moving earth and heavy breathing. Periodically the scene is illuminated by the flashbulbs of a still camera, giving us macabre half-glimpses of a recently unearthed corpses. This suggests that the sick bastard exhuming these bodies is also taking pictures of them, which, in my book, rates about a "12" on the ol' Creep-O-Meter.

Stifling darkness gives way to daylight but Hooper grants no reprieve. Instead he gives us a flinch-inducing close up of the grave-digger grim handiwork: two skeletal cadavers artfully poised atop a grave marker. The orange color filter and drippy condition of the bodies gives the viewer the impression that the bodies are melting away in the punishing heat of the mid-day Texas sun. Ewww...

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a perfect example of a movie that actually triumphs thanks to its low-rent feel. Witness the scene where Sally and company find and explore their old homestead. Kirk notices a huge pile of cellar spiders getting phreaky in the corner of an abandoned room, so Tobe Hooper and his cinematographer Daniel Pearl zoom in on the vile image with child-like glee. You can almost hear them giggling "Hey, get a load of this! Gross, huh? Here...lemme get closer!"

Moments later, Franklin discovers this weird bone fetish altar thingie in the house and sees a matching totem hanging overhead. This serves as an ominous visual precursor for what's to come. After Pam and Kirk's plans to go swimming fall through, they notice a windmill and the top of a roof in the distance. The unmistakable sound of a gas generator gives them hope that they may not be stranded for much longer.

But as they get closer to the property, that feeling of foreboding continues to grow. You start to wonder what sort of person would tie a bunch of rusty old junk onto the tree limbs, and, better yet, why? The inordinate number of abandoned cars lying around seems rather odd. What's even stranger is they're all covered up with camo netting.

When they reach the house, we get another omen when Kirk finds a molar and uses it scare the shit  out of Pam. Oblivious to the horrors that lie within, Kirk ventures into the house to ask for help. As he inches he way down the hallway toward the crimson-hued back room, we notice that the walls are covered in animal skulls and taxidermy projects. By the time Leatherface makes his iconic first appearance and "greets" the interloper, a part of us isn't completely surprised.

The triumphantly-ghastly production design by Robert A. Burns really gets showcased when Pam goes into the house to look for Kirk. She stumbles into the ironically-named "living" room and the camera takes a bone-chilling inventory of the human detritus scattered around. We see piles of feathers, scattered bones, a live chicken crammed into a tiny cage, chairs re-enforced with tibias, hanging skulls with a horns driven through the mouth and similarly-charming bric-à-brac.

 
On more than one occasion, the production's gritty, bargain-basement-style sensibilities makes you feel as if you're a witness to something you shouldn't be seeing. A snuff movie, of sorts. Just check out the scene where Jerry manages to delve deeper into the house than any of his predecessors. He makes his way into the revealed back room, hears thumping noises coming from the deep freezer and then opens it up to find Pam lying there like a frozen fish fillet. What happens next will challenge the integrity of even the most hardened horror hound's bladder control.

The film's mercilessly creepy mise en scène results in one of the most shocking scenes in the film. With everyone else missing, Sally pushes her wheelchair bound brother Franklin through the pitch-dark woods to try and get to the mansion. All of a sudden, Leatherface and his roaring chainsaw pop up from out of nowhere and instantly Franklin is put on frappe. This is just another example of how the film's "faults", in this case sub-par lighting, actually contributes to the shock factor. 

THE SOUND OF HORROR

Also piling onto our wits is the movie's dissonant, schizophrenic score, which is rife with cymbal crashes and echoey drums. This sets the tone right from the opening credits. It's the perfect soundtrack to such gruesome visuals and running news reports about chronic grave desecration.

More memorable musical stings can be heard as the characters explore the abandoned house, when Pam stumbles into the living room and during Jerry's approach to the Sawyer homestead. The dinner scene at the end of the film is made even more bone-rattling due to the industrial-style soundtrack. Hell, even the "music" that plays over the end credits sounds like rusty farm equipment being thrown down a bloody metal sluice.

A METHOD (ACTING) TO THEIR MADNESS

Sure, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is totally on-point with its visual and auditory horrors, but the film's population of Grade-A weirdos is what really makes the movie pure nightmare fuel. Not the least of which is Edwin Neal's Hitchhiker. With his prominent birthmark, antiquated camera, sassy varmint purse and a head of hair that looks like it was combed with a greasy pork chop, its no wonder Franklin takes one look at him and remarks "I think we just picked up Dracula."

I think Edwin Neal is the number one reason why no-one ever picks up hitchhikers anymore. Prior to this, most horror movies used monsters, werewolves, ghosts and zombies to try and frighten people, but The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was a completely different animal. It's easy to discount supernatural threats as pure fantasy, but viewers can't help but ponder the cold, hard fact that there are people in the world that make the Hitchhiker look like Ryan Reynolds.

Indeed, Edwin Neal's Hitchhiker is particularly effective because you get the impression that the character's weird and abhorrent behavior makes perfect sense in his own fevered brain. Never before had  movie-goers seen such a harrowing, convincing and sustained depiction of good, old-fashion human mental illness on screen.

In any other movie, the Hitchhiker would be more than enough to terrify the average popcorn-muncher, but he's quickly overshadowed by one of the most genuinely-scary movie villains in film history. His introduction to the screen is burned into my brain for all eternity. As Kirk is creeping through the Sawyer mansion, we actually hear him before we see him "thanks" to a series of muted pig squeals and grunting noises.

Kirk trips and stumbles headlong into a room at the far end of the hall. Suddenly the doorway is dominated by a hulking brute clad in a filthy short-sleeve dress shirt, a blood-splattered butcher's apron and a sharp little hipster tie. Oh, and in case you missed it, he's also wearing a mask made entirely of human flesh.

 
After Leatherface brains Kirk with his mallet like a prized heifer at the slaughterhouse he proceeds to deliver a few more shots just to quell his death-throes. He then picks up Kirk's lifeless body, hurls it off-screen and then slams the metal door shut behind him, exhibiting super-human strength and pure, mindless rage. Between his porcine vocalizations, horrifying appearance and overwhelming might, actor Gunnar Hansen is the physical embodiment of a nightmare.

The other kills in the movie are equally traumatizing. After hanging out in the "living" room, Pam realizes that she's made a horrible mistake and heads towards the exit. Just as she enters the hallway, the metal door whips open revealing Leatherface who lets out a guttural bull-moose call and then gives chase after her. What happens next isn't so much gory as it is inconceivably awful.

What makes Leatherface infinitely more interesting than Micheal Myers and Jason Vorhees is that he's inherently human. After Jerry gets pasted, Leatherface actually starts freaking out. Still emitting a chorus of hoots and grunts, he runs over to the window in a panic, frantically looking around to see if anyone else is outside. He then collapses into a nearby chair, holds his head and starts rocking back and forth.

Clearly he's trying to figure out where all of these meddling kids are coming from and whether or not they'll stop coming. He's genuinely scared. He knows that if one of these strangers gets away and calls the authorities, the jig'll be up for him and rest of his unconventional fam jam. 

And, for the record, only one actor had been and forever will be Leatherface and his name is Gunnar Hansen. In my humble opinion, every other depiction of the character, from Bill Johnson's hyperactive, eye-rolling, two-stepping goofball in the direct sequel to Andrew Bryniarski's neck-less goon in the remake, has missed the mark by miles. Only Hansen succeeded in making the character real for me and, subsequently, absolutely terrifying.

As for the rest of the characters in the movie, most of them are just walking flank steaks except for Sally, played to frantic perfection by Marilyn Burns. Based solely on her performance here, Marilyn belongs with such hallowed company as Faye Wray and Jamie Lee Curtis as one of the greatest Scream Queens in cinema history. I'm sure the harsh shooting conditions inspired a lot of method acting on her part. Her palpable misery and mental deterioration is so realistic that it's almost impossible to watch.

During the film she's gets relentlessly chased by Leatherface, caught up in brambles, stumbles upon dead bodies, gets defiled by one of them, suffers untold head trauma, gets her back sliced up and voluntarily leaps through more panes of glass then friggin' Batman. But perhaps her most horrifying encounter comes at the hands of The Cook.

After eluding Leatherface, Sally manages to run back to the gas station we saw earlier in the film. For a second, the audience breaths a sigh of relief, particularly when the station's elderly attendant shows up. Almost immediately, however, things don't sit quite right. Sally begs him to call the police but instead he tells her to stay put while he goes to get his truck.

We're baffled as to why he voluntarily goes outside after Sally tells him that a chainsaw-wielding lunatic is lurking just outside the door. He's gone for what feels like an eternity, partly because Tobe Hooper chooses this moment to serve up a lingering shot of the gas station's BBQ cooker. The blood-red light and the sight of abstract-looking meats sizzling away inside the oven is accompanied by disconcerting news reports on the radio about grave robbing. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together here.

 
Eventually the gas station manager reappears and when you see that he's holding a bag and some rope your heart just wilts. What we witness next makes Jim Siedow's Cook one of the most reviled and repellent characters in cinema history. As if beating Sally senseless isn't heinous enough, he alternates between comforting her with reassuring words and then roughly jabbing at her with his broken-off broom handle. Between the perverse script and Siedow's creepy portrayal, it's one of the most convincing depictions of mental illness I've ever seen in a movie.

YOU DON'T JUST WATCH THIS MOVIE, YOU SURVIVE IT

Just a quick side note here: many people who have seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre will claim  that it's one of the goriest films ever made. These same people will also swear that Janet Leigh got "totally" stabbed in Psycho's famous shower scene. But nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, most of the violence in Chainsaw is implied. If you get queasy while watching it, it probably has a lot more to do with the unflinching, realistic depiction of gonzo human behavior then it does with graphic violence.

Unlike any other film, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is flat-out grueling to watch. Just seconds after thinking "Well, it can't get any worse!", it invariably does. Old faces show up, Sally is dragged into the most harrowing and dysfunctional family meal in cinema history, the last remaining member of the Sawyer clan re-appears with a penchant for blood and her final attempt to save herself seems doomed from the start. 

The less said about these final scenes the better. Just suffice to say that you'll be tempted to question the sanity of both Tobe Hooper and his writing partner Kim Henkel. Without reprieve, the viewer is clobbered with a series of twitchy, microscopic closeups, perfectly conveying Sally's wide-eyed terror. Watching this for the first time, you'll begin to feel your own wits unraveling along with our heroine.

As it turns out, the movie's tag line ("Who will survive and what will be left of them?") is just as effective as Alien's "In space, no-one can hear you scream". At the end we're left staring into Sally's blood-covered face frozen in a rictus grin of hysteria, her involuntary screams slowly degenerating into peals of maniacal laughter. Physically she may be safe, but it's clear that her sanity, like ours, is in tatters. The very last shot is of Leatherface, spinning around like a whirling dervish of impotent rage. The implication is chilling: we've physically survived the experience but the Insane Clan Posse is still out there. 

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has but one raison d'être and that's to scare the ever-lovin' fertilizer out of you. This isn't a horror movie with training training wheels like the Paranormal Activity films. While watching this flick you'll constantly be wondering 'What sort of damaged brain comes up with sick shit like this?'

But that's the most chilling twist of all. Chainsaw was inspired, in large part, by the real-life crimes of necrophile / cannibal Ed Gein. The brutal fictions depicted in the film are nothing compared to the real-life cruelty being inflicted by people on other people every single day. Like many films of that era, including Last House on the Left, I Spit on Your Grave, Cannibal Holocaust and Night of the Living Dead, this movie is Hooper's attempt to reconcile the constant parade of real-life horrors in the news. It's art imitating life, people, not the other way around.

It's not often I say this but watching The Texas Chain Saw Massacre changes you. Above and beyond feeling as if you've been smoked in the back of the head with a vulpine hammer, you're forced to confront the truism that truth is infinitely stranger then fiction. You're forced to wrestle with the troubling concept that dark things happen in our world that make the ghoulish goings-on depicted in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre look like Frankenweenie.

For being the archetypal definition of a true horror movie in every sense of the word, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre earns a perfect score.