Episode 9 job description: make a movie that's similar to episodes 4-6, but not as similar as 7 and not as different as 1-3 and 8. But make 7-9 make sense as a trilogy. And make sure it ties all 9 together in a meaningful and satisfying way. Sound good?
JJ Abrams is either an optimist or a sadist.
Never before has a conclusion to a franchise had to tie together so many moving pieces, pay respect to so much sacred material, or overcome so much division in a fanbase with an often toxic fringe. To conclude both an incohesive trilogy and an incohesive trilogy of trilogies in a 2.5 hour block is ambitious at best and impossible at worst. But JJ accepted the challenge.
What makes a movie likable? Is it a matter of objective quality or is it about the fulfillment of the individual viewer's expectations? Maybe a mix of both? I went into The Rise of Skywalker wanting one thing above all else: to end the movie with a smile on my face, feeling the momentous weight of the victory of good triumphing over evil. JJ gave me that.
I'm not a movie critic. I wanted to be, but I figured out that I'm a movie cheerleader. I'm far less talented than a movie critic, but sometimes that means I have more fun. Ignorance can be bliss. The world needs movie critics, but I am blessed/burdened with the ability to look past/not notice a movie's flaws if the movie gives me a pair of rose-tinted glasses to watch it in.
I'm not a movie critic. I wanted to be, but I figured out that I'm a movie cheerleader. I'm far less talented than a movie critic, but sometimes that means I have more fun. Ignorance can be bliss. The world needs movie critics, but I am blessed/burdened with the ability to look past/not notice a movie's flaws if the movie gives me a pair of rose-tinted glasses to watch it in.
As soon as the opening crawl established Palpatine as the main antagonist, I was presented with a mental choice that dictated my enjoyment of the rest of the movie: buy in or turn back. To buy in, I had to leave my critical thoughts at the door, put on the rose-tinted (John Williams-tinted) glasses and let myself enjoy the ride. Going to the theater with the goal of having fun doesn't make me a mindless sheep—it makes me an optimist. Sometimes, I get what I want. Even as an optimist, many times I won't. With The Rise of Skywalker, I got what I wanted. I love Star Wars, and I loved the Rise of Skywalker.
I can see the flaws people are upset about, especially after the fact. I can see the ways that 9 strains to bridge the disjunction of 7 and 8. I can understand the gripes I've heard about wasted characters, contrived plot points, and fake-out deaths without gravity. I don't want my review to put myself on a pedestal for having fun while other lifelong fans are disappointed by what they see as a failure to adequately wrap up their favorite story. The critiques I've heard are valid, and I actually agree with most of them. But to me (not for everyone! I get that! I respect that!), these qualms and my own qualms are drowned out—
Drowned out by the choice of good over evil, by agency more influential than heritage, by hope in spite of overwhelming odds, by a unifying force bent on restoring order to the galaxy, by a legacy of love passed down through generations powerful enough to overcome the greatest evil imaginable, and by the message that in the end, our relationships will be the strength that saves us.
I'll happily wear those rose-tinted glasses.
I'll happily wear those rose-tinted glasses.
