The only film that defined my childhood more than E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial is Return of the Jedi. For my 11th birthday, my friends filled a theater row in a South Florida mall to see the original rise of Skywalker. Nothing that day stopped the film from capturing our young imaginations, even when the film reel snapped and the theater lights briefly went on, allowing someone to literally piece together the movie while a group of 11-year-olds waited. To this day, the scene of Luke defeating Vader while the music reached a level of epic drama reignites chills of long ago. At this moment in the movie, I demand silence from anyone in the room even though I’ve memorized the dialogue.
As an adult, the Star Wars films that followed the original trilogy, despite my best efforts, never captured my heart. For me, new characters never sufficiently matched the charisma of Han Solo, the fiery spirit of Princess Leia or the ingenious originality of the legendary Yoda. Kylo Ren is no Darth Vader. He is not even a Darth Maul. The classic one-liners that made an imprint upon pop culture are still the ones dating back to the 70s and 80s. The new storylines feel disjointed and at times recycled. Dialogue attempts to build drama that feels forced. The jubilant end of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker seems similar to Return of the Jedi but far less inspiring. For me, Star Wars lives on past glory. Its impact on this fan faded long ago similar to how an old Jedi dissolves on screen. In my science fiction world, Marvel Studios and its stories of Avengers replaced the force years ago.
And yet, I feel the conflict within. Star Wars sparks excitement for my son. He streams the old films and asks for Star Wars toys for the holidays. The Millennium Falcon is an ever-present fixture on our kitchen counter. His Star Wars toothbrush sounds like a lightsaber. We both wait impatiently for each new episode of the Disney+ original series The Mandalorian, the best Star Wars work since Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. After watching Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, he checked Amazon for new memorabilia and we played a Star Wars board game.
While I believe the saga should have ended in 1983, the additional films allow my son and I to share the stories, spend time discussing them and watch YouTube videos about the movies. (He doesn’t hear my critique.)
As someone who once lined up Star Wars action figures to engage in battle on the living room couch, it’s OK that I feel a disturbance with the newer films and their plots. After Return Of The Jedi, I imagined that Luke, Leia and Han restored a democratic galaxy and left the Empire, its Emperor and the dark side exactly where Vader dumped them: down a dark hole. But Disney decided to resurrect and repurpose characters. And from a certain point of view, I respect it. It serves a purpose. It allows the conversation to continue and for different generations to share one of moviemaking‘s great science fiction stories.
