The beauty that lies at the heart of Star Wars has always been the pervading moral ambiguity. The forces of good are pitted against those of evil and yet we are rarely afforded the details of such conflicts with any clear distinction beyond death chokes and climactic obliteration. The films have always represented the eternal struggle, as the first trailer aptly stated it, between ‘the darkness and the light.’ Though Star Wars: The Force Awakens derives much of its effusive energy from the original trilogy, it is also not quite like anything we have witnessed before in the greater canon.
After the legendary Lucasfilm franchise was sold to Disney in 2012, there was widespread trepidation as to what would become of our most important science-fiction opera. The resounding fear was that, like many franchises before it, Star Wars would simply become a Disney cash cow – or worse, end up like the prequels. As a result it was no surprise that much secrecy surrounded the project until well past post-production. Teasers and carefully leaked fragments of plot were agonizingly leaked to eager fans over the past few months in a slow trickle.
After confirming that one of the original writers had been commissioned to co-write the screenplay (Lawrence Kasdan), speculation surrounded whether or not J.J. Abrams planned on harkening back to the original trilogy. Some even agreed that the plot would likely borrow narrative elements from Star Wars: The Old Republic as a boldfaced ploy to appease fans. What Abrams and Disney have accomplished is nothing like that at all.
A fashionably postmodern homage to the original trilogy, The Force Awakens is a story that, in essence, is built on the galaxy’s complete lack of leadership. It has been some thirty years since Return of the Jedi’s big-explosion-and-Ewok-party conclusion. What was for us once the end of Star Wars has, like all conflicts, ultimately developed into no more than a turning-point in the larger struggle for galactic supremacy.
With the defeat of the Empire, a new and more fanatical specter emerges. The First Order, comprised of former Imperials under the direct command of the Force-sensitive Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), seeks to reestablish the Empire in their image. Despite the re-consecration of the Republic, the Resistance and its scattered champions battle against an overwhelming force.
The layers of clever plot devices, catchy tongue in cheek moments, and the film’s (secretly quite delicate) special effects belie an apparent contradiction; although engaged in a deliberate conflict, both side of the Force and contestants have an obvious absence of direction. Snoke’s appearance is brief and inexplicably foreshadowing. Luke Skywalker is ominously absent. It is this fact that motivates his sister (now conspicuously called General Leia), to charge her most trusted pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Issac) to locate his whereabouts. Poe’s only clue, like our plot, is an incomplete map.
Poe isn’t the only character who hasn’t got a clue how to proceed. Their actions and ultimate fates are guided by that classic mélange of emotion and ideology. Even the fallen Jedi, the adorably hateful arch-villain Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) is motivated by what he accepts as the ultimate truth: that only the strong are worthy. Rey (Daisy Ridley), an orphaned Jaccuan scavenger, is propelled by compassion and fury, but doesn’t seem to care much for strategy. Finn (John Boyega), in deserting from his Stormtrooper regiment, is likewise thrust forward in the conviction that he can no longer be a servant to a totalitarian regime. His quest develops beyond the political motivations of other characters, becoming both a fight for survival and a mission to save the only people whom he has ever cared about.
Where a new generation of characters embodies an almost devout interpersonal zeal, the older generation has become notably pessimistic and cranky. The appearance of young, ideological characters only heightens their eagerness to quickly pass the torch. The return of Han Solo is not shepherded in by parades and expectant well-wishers, but by showing that he has long since returned to the only thing he was ever good at: smuggling. Leia takes control of the Resistance after Luke’s sudden departure. Her leadership is largerly, for both her and the movement, a matter of simple necessity. Han and Leia are hardly the advisors the Resistance needs.
The fanatical Knights of Ren lead a militant auxiliary wing of the First Order, with an ISIS-like fusion of ruthless fervour and thinly disguised spiritual vacuity. Neither Jedi nor Sith, the Knights of Ren have perverted the teachings of both Orders to suit their nefarious ends. Though talented and in his own way a crusader, Kylo Ren is not the most competent figurehead. Discovering at one point that his prisoner has escaped, he brandishes his lightsaber and has himself a real Darkside tantrum, smashing computers and yelling. Stormtroopers in the adjacent hallway, familiar with Ren’s temperament, exchange glances and tiptoe away, clearly familiar with those occasions when their boss is having one of his little moments.
The most peculiar and subtle feeder for the film’s narrative is the absence of the Republic. After having secured major victories against the Empire, we would have expected the new Republic to have embraced the members of the Resistance into their ranks. What we find instead is a kind of tenuous Weimar situation in which the Republic practically disavows the Resistance in public, while quietly offering the rebels indirect (and infrequent) aid. The Resistance is largely left alone to continue the fight against the inheritors of the Galactic Empire. Even General Leia is left to bitterly remark at the Republic’s ostensible intransigence and unwillingness to provide realistic support. At a moment where decisive action is needed, political machinations and grandstanding abound with tragic consequences.
The plot begins to gain traction and purpose in the third act when a new planet-destroying weapon is unleashed, and the good guys have to try and destroy it. This obvious refrain to the conclusion of A New Hope is rescued from being a purely nostalgic exercise thanks less to flashy cinematography than to accomplished storytelling. The engine that purrs beneath the CGI tour de force is made in part from the discordant brutality of the first significant lightsaber duel of the new trilogy; but it is also in the bravest writing decision Abrams could have made (are we still not allowed to talk about this?).
These features of the third act are crucial because it is the human element in this installment of the Star Wars series, arguably more than any before it (even The Empire Strikes Back), where the real innovation comes to life. While characters like Ren, Finn, and Rey take their human flaws from a less archetypal pool than the original characters, there are darker facets of the human experience that Abrams has made plenty of room for, like the way Finn’s trauma from his Stormtrooper days doesn’t ennoble him straight away, or the way Rey’s commitment to her missing family is perhaps a little more of a comfort zone than she likes to admit to herself.
With its fascist overtones, the First Order embodies an unsavory belief only faintly alluded to in the original trilogy. In what may be also reference to the Reconstituted Empire of Star Wars: The Old Republic, the new Imperial regime is decidedly prejudiced against all alien species. One scene with allusions to Revenge of the Sith features General Hux embarking on a diatribe against the installment of ‘filthy’ aliens into the New Republican Senate. His proposed solution: total genocide. It’s made explicit this time that only humans are welcome in the galaxy envisioned by the First Order. This ideological fascist totality allows the Order to ascend from the bewildering backdrop of trade disputes and clone army chaos that pushed the prequel trilogy into the realm of tedious incoherence, to a position of menacing clarity.
The Force Awakens, unlike its predecessors, is not about teachers and their students. Rey, Finn, and Kylo painfully endeavor to find the kind of tutelage and purpose that are precisely denied to them. Unlike its predecessors (especially Episodes I-III), The Force Awakens is almost entirely character driven. Abrams’ conceptualization of the Star Wars universe is atypical in that it is not focused around light-speed special effects and explosions, although both are accounted for. Instead, his creation is one of superb beauty that adjoins finely paced storytelling to sensitive character development. You may be waxing nostalgic for Lucas’ warm embrace, but The Force Awakens is an achievement that both complements and amplifies his oeuvre. With a new generation at the forefront and the fate of the galaxy no less certain than before, the future of the Star Wars universe may worryingly be within the hands of the most unqualified individuals: characters that are real people.
