Star Wars, Ranked

Saw Rise of Skywalker today. It had its moments. It’s fanservice, as everyone is saying, but fanservice to an extent that is cowardly and insulting.

The Force Awakens needed to reestablish fans and fan trust in the franchise, and so Abrams had the brilliant idea of making a classic-feeling Star Wars movie that is all about fandom, its joys and its dark underbelly.

Rian Johnson took that lead and ran with it, and made his movie about breaking from the past, while attempting to steer the Star Wars universe toward the future. It wasn’t perfect, but it was interesting, and at times gorgeous and breathtaking. Most of all, The Last Jedi was something new.

Rise of Skywalker is Abrams (and, to be fair, probably all of Disney) saying “screw all that, I got that good stuff you want, let’s check off the entire fan list while undoing all of the work of my predecessor.” There were some good moments, and it’s a fine enough diversion, but it isn’t memorable. And an interesting failure is light years better than a safe success. Which RoS isn’t.

My ranking, for posterity:

  1. Empire Strikes Back
  2. New Hope
  3. Last Jedi
  4. Force Awakens
  5. Rogue One
  6. Rise of Skywalker
  7. Return of the Jedi
  8. Revenge of the Sith
  9. Attack of the Clones
  10. Solo
  11. Phantom Menace
  12. A literal pile of feces

Russians Meddling in Star Wars

In and of itself, the idea of looking for meaning and a reflection of one’s own life in pop culture is perfectly fine. I would even argue that it’s the first step toward digging deeper into a work of art, because it leads us down a path of critical thought and invigorating discussion with friends — and maybe even a little bit of self-examination.

But here’s where things have flipped on their ear in the 2010s: Many fans of a work aren’t just looking for meaning in the work itself, but for the work to impart meaning upon them. Too often, they ask pop culture to fill the role that religion, philosophy, or psychology once did.

Todd VanDerWerff keeps giving me lots to think about.

I’ve chewed around the edges of this before in trying to understand the relationship between writing and ego, and again while reading Infinite Jest. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the decline of community and religious organizations has preceded the rise of fandamentalism and politics-as-pro-wrestling.

I’m not suggesting that the solution is “go to church”, of course. But we’ve created a vacuum of cultural and emotional need, and we’ve started the new holy war to try to fill that void.

Stories are often escape, and that sounds charmingly harmless as long as you don’t think about it too long. As long as you don’t start analyzing the structure of the most popular stories. As long as you don’t reflect that one of the biggest non-Nazi criticisms of “The Last Jedi” was its rejection of moralism and lack of a clear villain.

We love to quote Marx’s “opium of the people” observation, but my friend Dan recently reminded me that the full quote, in context, reads rather differently than most people think:

Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.

At the core of fundamentalism of any stripe is a scrabbling desperation to change my environment to make me feel safe and reinforced. To change what is outside of me in the hopes that it will fix what is fearful and suffering inside. Whether with online fights about sci-fi or our current political climate, what we’re hearing now is the suffering cry of a diseased and possibly dying culture.

Remarkably perceptive of the Russians and modern American Nazis to see that the best way to attack our political system is to come at the new religion first. But they’re going to hurt more than just the shot at a more just and inclusive society. And they don’t care.

Chewie. We're home.

Today is the 40th birthday of Star Wars. I am not exaggerating when I say that I think this should be a national holiday.

It has become popular to throw rocks at George Lucas. Lord knows I've thrown my share, and if there ever was anything in human history that suffered from founder's syndrome, then the Star Wars saga was it. But to say that Star Wars "captivated a generation" is an insult. Star Wars became part of our consciousness. It created culture. You and I will never do what George Lucas did. We won't come close.

Thank you, George. I can't tell you what Luke and Leia and Han meant to me. They and you are partly responsible for the man I am today.

May the Force be with you.

The Dark Side of the That's-No-Moon

The first eight minutes of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" synced with Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon". They say the whole movie works. Of course, they also say that Slender Man is real.

This is the best one of these I've seen since they did it with "The Wizard of Oz", which is a better thematic fit if you think marijuana is great. As many Slender Man people do.

We talk about story beats, particularly in sequential art stories like movies and comics, and it's not just a metaphor. Language itself is inherently musical, regardless of whether you speak a tonal language, and stories themselves are often most satisfying when they have a musical-ish structure. On the flip side, even "Add It Up" by the Violent Femmes feels like a three-act play to me.

So while I don't think there's anything grand lurking here, there is probably something in our instinctive pull towards certain rhythms and changes in stories and conversations just like in music, the way most popular music was built on a handful of chord progressions.

If I had fuck-you money and an attention span worthy of the name, I'd start randomly pairing concept albums with movies just to see how often I get a decent hit. I bet it would be statistically significant, but then again something this subjective just screams confirmation bias.

There is crazy magic in our stupidly repetitive and predictable brains. Hell, sometimes even I think Slender Man could be real.