The Acolyte

1. Lee Jung-jae as Sol is A+. A precursor to Liam Neeson’ Qui-Gon Jinn. Check.

2. Charlie Barnett as Yord, aka “but what if a Jedi Knight were a tool?,” is a great call. Even from the commercials you could see the stilted self-regard, which out of context presented as CW-quality acting, but in context is a nice in-universe joke. The Jedi are the worst! And Yord is the worst of the worst.

3. I’m fine with the twins plot, not least given the Sith’s Rule of Two and the Light and Dark sides of the Force. Already in the first episode we’re hearing about this, plus the episode titles make the subtext text. Will Amandla Stenberg’s characters be anything more than a literal outworking of this metaphor on screen? TBD.

4. I’m curious as to the show’s depiction of the Jedi’s inner workings. Are they sclerotic and bureaucratic? Or democratic and therefore unhurried (if possibly too slow to meet the urgency of the moment)? If the latter, then they are more like the Ents, and thus to be admired. If the former, then we’re back with Qui-Gon and d-e-c-a-d-e-n-c-e. But if the former because the latter, well, then you’re just making Palpatine’s argument for him.

5. I do not mind at all (unlike Alan Sepinwall) that the decadence, sclerosis, and institutional blindness on evidence in the prequels is already evident here, a century before the Empire. These things takes time. Moreover, Qui-Gon will be born some fifty years after the events of this show, and there will be living memory of whatever transpires in the rest of the series when he’s being trained as a child in Coruscant. I am eager to see whether Leslye Headland et al can make thematic or narrative hay of these matters beyond “Palpatine-versus-the-Jedi avant la lettre.”

6. See further Timothy Burke on the difficulty of nailing down the Sith’s concrete motivations in Star Wars lore.

7. There are intriguing hints. “Our political enemies” says one Jedi to another. Who are they? What do they want? What is their brief? But these questions raise a whole new set of questions, as does The Acolyte as a whole…

8. Boil them all down this: How is it possible that the Jedi kept the Republic from war for a thousand years? Remember, Star Wars is not a Star Trek: this isn’t meant to be utopian. Life isn’t perfect. Greed and lust and wrath and gluttony and pride and all the other sins prevail; the Republic is not the Federation. This isn’t communism minus Lenin and Stalin. It’s just ordinary civilizational life projected onto the stars. How, I repeat, was there absolutely zero war—no conflict beyond the local, the petty, the private—for a full millennium? Across how many solar systems in an entire galaxy? Even contained on a single planet? None, zero, zilch? Are we committed, canonically, to this necessarily and strictly being true? For real?

9. Now think about the Jedi. They are a tiny religious minority of celibate wizards who forsake emotional attachment, are taken from their families while very young to be trained by a secret order on the galactic capital planet, wield magic spells at a whim, brandish laser swords, and carry an imperial (sorry, republican-senatorial) remit to investigate, subdue, arrest, and (if necessary) kill any and all suspected of breaking the law or making trouble. In effect, Jedi are medieval monks, knights, and sheriffs, all in one. They leave family behind, they neither marry nor have sex nor have children or households, yet they possess occult powers that intimidate and discipline a galactic population of trillions. How, I ask once again, did such a tiny, terrifying, and unrepresentative group preserve, much less enforce, peace and justice in the galaxy? As Obi-Wan remarks at one point in the prequels, the Jedi are not soldiers. Who wouldn’t feel burning resentment at these magical universe policeman? “The Jedi live in a dream,” the acolyte’s master says. I’m inclined to agree.

10. I failed to mention that, in this galaxy, there is no God, only the Force. No one worships the Force, not exactly. The Force has servants and students (a la Chirrut Îmwe), but the Force itself is neither good nor evil, only the balance of the two. Why should any ordinary people “believe in” the Force, or respect or admire or even care about it? And by extension, the Jedi?

11. I suppose a postmodern debunking of Obi-Wan’s “more civilized age” as just so much nostalgic hokum could be interesting. But I’d prefer a deeper answer on this score. Even during the Jedi’s (and by extension, the Republic’s) high tide of peace, politics was never extinguished. What was going on? How did they preserve it? By what maneuverings? With what shenanigans? Who, after all, initiated the Jedi doctrines about detachment, much less celibacy? Are they necessary? Or are they part of the problem? And thus part of what led to Sidious, Maul, Anakin, Snoke, Ren? Could Rey’s new Jedi order correct for these past mistakes, as Rian Johnson’s film implied? If Disney makes good on a new series of films focusing on her efforts—as well as a biblical epic, directed by James Mangold, depicting the Jedi’s origins in the distant past—could these form a kind of narrative thread, even an inclusio, centering less on Luke and Leia’s family drama and more on the High Republic’s failures, the Jedi’s decadence, and Palpatine and Qui-Gon’s shared critique of the status quo? In order too forestall repeating history, which would doom the galaxy (and moviegoers) to an endless cycle of Sith/Dark-versus-Jedi/Light?

12. Fat chance. But in theory, it could work.

On Episode IX and J.J. Abrams

In 16 weeks, Episode IX—the conclusion to the final trilogy in the trilogy of trilogies that the Star Wars saga has become, not to mention the other stand-alone films and the new live-action TV show—will be released. The new teaser made available earlier this week generated a lot of discussion and speculation about plot lines and, above all, the direction the script will take and, ultimately, how it will wrap up the story.

Up till now I've tried to be realistic but hopeful about the possibility that J. J. Abrams might actually stick the landing, if not perfectly, than satisfactorily. What he did in VII was a combination of good and bad, but Rian Johnson took the hand he'd been dealt and did something masterful with it in VIII. Could Abrams have something equally excellent up his sleeve? Could he surprise us all by finally overcoming his worst tendencies and producing truly original, brilliant work?

The truth is that we have no reason to think so.

Consider the other films Abrams has written and/or directed in the last 15 years: Mission: Impossible III, Star Trek, Super 8, Star Trek Into Darkness, and The Force Awakens. The Rise of Skywalker is only the sixth film he has directed—and, if you begin in 1998 when he began to "be" J.J. Abrams (i.e., with the release of Armageddon and the premiere of Felicity), he's also only written six films.

Of those he has directed, only one was an original property, and only two, strictly speaking, were not a sequel. Three were expansions of TV shows. And as for each considered individually:

–M:I:3 is a polished 2-hour TV movie that is clearly a "first film."

–Star Trek is a retelling of the original Star Wars in Gene Roddenberry's universe, with an altered timeline and some yadda-yadda-ing of plot to get the Right Characters in the Right Place sooner rather than later.

–Super 8 is E.T. for millennials, with CGI.

–Star Trek Into Darkness is—as you know—a semi-remake of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. The less said about this one the better.

–And then there's Episode VII, which simultaneously re-launched Star Wars for a new generation and, in the structure of the whole film but especially in the final act, came close to being a beat-for-beat remake of Episode IV. A reboot that's also a sequel, somehow.

And now we come to Episode IX, which features the return of Lando Calrissian and, inexplicably, Emperor Palpatine. What could go wrong?

* * *

Now, I'm underselling Abrams' talents in the way I've presented his work. He has real strengths. He may be second only to Spielberg in his ability to cast, both knowns and unknowns. His direction of actors draws out the best of them. He can write and direct both dialogue and rapport with the best of them. And his films move: for all the flaws of the rest of the film, the opening 45 minutes of The Force Awakens is blockbuster filmmaking nonpareil. Oh, and his actual technique, in terms of frame and composition and color and so on, is underrated. Each of his films has improved substantially in that respect.

But Abrams' chief vice, his fatal shortcoming, undermines each and every one of these virtues: namely, his affinity for nostalgia, for telling and re-telling the stories he grew up with and whose essential beats, he knows, his audience yearns to see in only slightly dressed-up form.

Had he made only one or two different decisions in VII—say, having Starkiller Base fail in its attempt to destroy the New Republic, or having the Resistance's attempt to disable and destroy the Base fail, thus resulting in a lack of catharsis and non-replay of IV—things could have gone differently there, because it's clear that Abrams was trying to comment on his own, which is to say his generation's, inability to move beyond the past, to play dress-up in Boomer Glory even as a decadent empire falls apart. Kylo Ren is, in that respect, a perfect pop culture creation.

But he didn't have the courage or the imagination or the awareness or the studio support to go fully revisionary in his Star Wars entry, and thus here we are.

* * *

So: Might Episode IX be good?

In fact, that's not the right question, because it will without a doubt be good, because Abrams doesn't make bad movies. The problem, rather, is that he may only make Good Movies.

Rephrasing, then: Will Episode IX be more than good? Will Abrams upset our expectations beyond the mystery box and a couple "shocking" surprises?

The answer, unfortunately, is no. Every sign points to it. There will be funny rapport and lovely images and stirring character beats and some fantastic action. But Abrams won't be able to resist the siren song of nostalgia. The nods and winks to the prequels and original trilogy, the recycling of old themes and narrative devices and literal resurrected characters: they're all going to be there, in full, without apology. And that'll be the end of that. Best to accept it now rather than manufacture unfounded expectations for a writer-director who has been nothing if not consistent for two decades of TV and film work.

That'll be the end of the Skywalker saga, and if we're lucky, the end of Abrams' involvement with Star Wars, too—for good.