Maybe I’ll not feel so sad after I give The Rise of Skywalker a second look.
While nowhere near the superlative achievement The Force Awakens, Rogue One and The Last Jedi proved to be, this latest anthology effort is nonetheless easy to enjoy, the joyful exuberance of Solo: A Star Wars Story difficult to rebel against.
Unlike the last film, The Last Jedi uses nostalgia and one’s knowledge of this universe against the viewer, ideas as to what can happen, who can and cannot survive and where things go from here as they head into the ninth and final chapter blown into smithereens like a fourth Death Star.
With Rogue One, Edwards doesn’t attempt to redo what has come before, isn’t interested in any already established template. He and his team have crafted a film that exists inside a known universe yet still manage to plant their own idiosyncratic stamp upon it. This is a marvelous piece of entertainment, as wondrous as anything I’ve seen in 2016.
What is learned, who is who and what is what, all of it matters, not just so much in regards to the greater picture as far as the new trilogy is concerned but also as it pertains to the narrative here. The filmmakers maintain remarkable focus, a singularity of purpose, doing yeoman’s work fleshing out Rey and Finn while also giving Solo an astonishing arc no fan of the series will ever be able to forget.