Film Review:
Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.
I was eighteen years old in the early summer of 1977 when Star Wars dropped like a cannonball into our laps. Both of my parents were still alive, and my brotherโs mental illness had not yet shattered our family and sent my father to his early grave. As a group, weโd watched the last episode of Gunsmoke just two years prior, my Dadโs favorite show hands-down for most of its run, only falling off during those jaded Watergate years and our final disillusion with the Vietnam War. Then, suddenly, Star Wars arrived unannounced with its clear water moralityโlove not hate, courage over fear, loyalty to friends and common cause, and an appeal for simple faith in the universal connected-ness of all things. It felt childlike beside that eraโs gritty, American cinema veritรฉ films like Chinatown (1974), Dog Day Afternoon (1975) and Report to the Commissioner (1975).
But, oh, how strong that simple appeal! In Star Wars, we found classic characters bound in common struggle against evil at high odds. The Kid, the rogue with the heart-a-gold, the princessโand we reveled in their unlikely success as they did, reassured that faith, courage, loyalty, and a little luck will stand against evil even at terrible odds. Still, Star Wars felt like a simple, rousing tale, but for The Empire Strikes Back (1980), which grounded the Force in family. All at once, my fatherโs disappointment came clear, as did my resentment and confusion over my new role as the familyโs savior in the aftermath of my brotherโs affliction, a brother whose every step I followed like a trail blazed through adolescence. The tears I saw flowing on my fatherโs face bewildered, and the things I shouted over my shoulder, and he at me, stung, as I stormed out unaware that I would never see him again.
With The Rise of Skywalker, director J.J. Abrams understands one thing, clearly: forty years have passed since an American generation of young people marveled at those early Star Wars films. He knows that those young people have grown into middle age and that many have confronted lifeโs hard equations: that you cannot go back, that some opportunities never recur, and that you cannot unspeak harsh words you have said to those who have died. The Rise of Skywalkerโs plot may feel derivative, its conventions rehashed, and its refusal to realize the story lines set out in The Last Jedi (2017) frustrating, but such things are small beer. They barely register next to Princess Leiaโs final connection to, and Han Soloโs recovery of, their lost son; Ben's reawakening to the love within him, and Reyโs final thrust to set things right while all the Jedi speak within her.
For those of us who cannot stand beside the โforce ghostsโ of our dead mothers and fathers and brothers, in conversation, and speak the loving truths we wish we could, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker rings our bell. J.J. Abrams knows well the film he has made for us, bless his heart.
Michael D. Phillips