[6.5/10] *The Rise of Skywalker* never stops. From the first minute, it is relentless, reintroducing major characters, blowing through plot point after plot point, tossing in a new face every half hour or so just because it can. Lucasfilm head Kathleen Kennedy speculated that had co-writer/director J.J. Abrams known that he would do *Episode IX* back when he originally signed onto *Star Wars*, he would have saddled up and directed the whole damn Sequel Trilogy. *The Rise of Skywalker* bears that out, if for no other reason than it feels like Abrams tried to cram two movies into one.
*Episode IX* throws everything and the kitchen sink at the audience. There are major retcons to *The Last Jedi*. There are check-ins with every character of note. There are major expansions of the lore. There are new planets and alien species. There’s returns from the last remaining Original Trilogy figures who’ve stayed on the sidelines until now. There’s a caper. There’s a lightsaber fight. There’s a throne room scene. There’s a massive dogfight. There’s a speeder chase/podracing homage. There’s a star destroyer escapade. There’s an endless series of chases. There are multiple “not actually dead” fakeouts. There are force ghosts galore.
However much the producers and writers and cast swear up and down that this is it, it’s dubious that *The Rise of Skywalker* will actually be the last Skywalker Saga film. There’s too many Republic credits to be had when Disney’s coffers are feeling a little light for that to bear out. But Abrams treats it like the last chance to do anything *Star Wars*. It’s not enough to have another epic Sith vs. Jedi confrontation. A revivified Palpatine has to be imbued by the power of *all Sith* and Rey has to represent the collective strength of *all Jedi* to make things as epic as possible. Every *Star Wars* ship that’s ever flown has to crowd the skies above a villainous fleet, 10,000 times the size of the First Order’s, where every star destroyer is equipped with a Death Star cannon. For better or worse, *Episode IX* is the quadruple-loaded nachos of *Star Wars* movies.
Despite, or maybe because of all that, there’s really only room for two (or arguably even one) arc in the film. Like Luke and Anakin before them, Rey and Kylo Ren must each decide whether to embrace the Dark Side of the Force, or hold onto the light. There’s poetry in that parallel. Abrams conjures *Return of the Jedi* where the angry Jedi and the “it’s too late for me” Sith try to turn one another. And he even summons a heartening echo of *Revenge of the Sith*, where Ben Solo succeeds at what spurred his grandfather’s downfall -- saving someone he loves from death, albeit at the cost of his own life. For all its other faults, *The Rise of Skywalker* puts its focus in the right place, with the emotional trajectory and shifting alignments of its biggest hero and original villain taking the spotlight.
But that squeezes out meaningful character development for pretty much anyone else in the film. Finn and Poe get plenty of screen time, but end the film with half-finished or undeveloped arcs (at best). The film seems to set up some big character moments with Finn, whether it’s in the form of the thing he “never told” Rey, or the sense that he’s constantly trying to get her to return, or his realization that there are other moral, mutinous former stormtroopers out there. But *Episode IX* never really ties any of these story threads up, just letting them dangle in the jet stream until time runs out. Poe has a half-baked challenge to succeed Leia as a Resistance leader, but it’s over and done in the span of just a few short scenes.
It’s nice that Abrams and co. want to pay homage to everything significant in the franchise. But between reviving each member of the Original Trilogy, introducing a handful of new characters this late in the game (who each require quick backstories and basic motivations), making sure that Maz, Rose, Snap, BB-8, and plenty more get their moment in the sun, there’s just not room for much substance outside of the Rey/Kylo drama.
It’s not that these briefly sketched scenes are bad. C-3P0 gets the most affecting moment in the film; Chewey’s mournful roar sells Leia’s death better than anything else, and a nearly nonsensical return for Han Solo still contains the movie’s best echoing exchange. There’s just not time in a two-and-a-half hour movie to service all the characters and ideas Abrams wants to include, which leaves most of them feeling like they get the short shrift.
That’s *before* all of the retcons and expansions to the lore that Abrams and co-writer Chris Terrio cram in. In *The Force Awakens*, some of the puzzling and unaccounted for developments or details could be written off as Abrams’s usual mystery box setup. But in the Sequel Trilogy’s final installment, Abrams offers just as many new questions as he does answers, building major new pieces of the mythos and overarching plot on the fly in ways that leave even the devoted *Star Wars* fanatic scratching their head.
Palpatine is back and tethered to some bizarre mechanical apparatus, with the only explanation being a borrowed line about abilities others find “unnatural.” He’s apparently been puttering around for the past thirty years, on a never-before-mentioned secret Sith planet, with a cadre of random Sith druids, a gazillion star destroyers he just raises from the dirt, and a tank full of Snoke clones. With a single line of dialogue, he takes credit for pulling the strings for everything that’s happened in the Sequel Trilogy so far.
If that weren’t enough, Leia apparently almost became a Jedi and was one lesson away from completing her training, replete with an extra legacy saber no one’s ever seen or talked about before. But she’s still knowledgeable enough in the Force to be Rey’s new master. Oh, and she *and* Luke both already knew Rey’s true parentage. And Rey and Kylo have some mystical Force bond that is super rare. And all Sith souls or energy or life force or something gets subsumed by the next living Sith. And that life force can be transferred or stolen. And you can’t kill a Sith while leaning toward the Dark Side or the Sith will possess you, but if you use lightsabers and good vibes to reflect their force lightning back at them, it doesn't count as slaying them and you’re safe from Sith possession so long as you’ve gotten your cootie shots.
Look, it’s *Star Wars*. Not everything is going to make perfect sense, and not everything requires an in-depth explanation, particularly in a movie that’s sprinting to encompass all it wants and needs to. But Abrams and Terrio just stack unprecedented Force rules and new bits of major backstory and significant retcons on top of one another in such quick succession that it’s like the Sith lightning round. The cumulative effect of all these quick-twitch revisions is stupefying, with the results seeming like shortcuts to a desired endpoint rather than an earned part of the journey.
This comes part and parcel with the biggest retcon of all -- that Rey is Palpatine’s grandfather. Nevermind the fact that this requires the audience to consider the wrinkly green wretch fathering a child. It reinforces *Star Wars*’s consistent small universe problem, where almost everyone of note has to be related to someone else of note. It’s a questionable change that undercuts the laudable “the Force belongs to everyone” message from *The Last Jedi* and makes noble bloodlines more important than the idea that the hero can be anyone and come from anywhere.
But *Episode IX* at least uses the retcon to similarly noble thematic ends. The broader moral of the film is that parentage isn’t destiny, but instead, we choose who we want to be and who our loved ones are. Rey has always wanted to find out where she came from, to find new family, so as to help define herself. When she’s having dark visions and learns that she’s related to the Emperor, the itch she wanted to scratch so badly is suddenly drawing blood. She fears that her turn to the Dark Side is inevitable.
Instead, she chooses her found family, the people who’ve supported her, trained her, and in Ben Solo’s case, given his life for her, because they know she’d do the same for them. The final line in the film, where Rey calls herself a Skywalker, is a little too corny and imitative, but the impulse is a creditable one, to declare that the choices we make and the people we hold dear mean more than any genetic predestination could. It dovetails nicely with the theme around the Resistance -- that bad guys like the Emperor and the First Order try to make you lose hope by thinking your alone, but that there’s “more of us than there are of them” -- a commendable people power message in line with the Original Trilogy.
That message bears out with the human element that suffers the film’s best stretches. While *The Rise of Skywalker* often loses itself in convoluted lore and rapid-fire plot points, the sheer joy of seeing all our heroes working together and going on adventures keeps the first act of the film afloat and adds heart to the last moments. The tension between Rey and Kylo Ren remains potent throughout, and just as Daisy Ridley is able to play Rey’s fatalistic intensity with aplomb as the young Jedi teeters toward the Dark Side, Adam Driver does a superb job at not only conveying Kylo Ren’s renewed internal conflict, but also his more casual, dare I say Solo-esque bent when he pivots toward the light.
The film harnesses these performances in a series of solid action sequences, extending the locale-traversing force connection to fights and more corporeal confrontations. The saber stand-offs have character, and while the final act ends up as overstuffed and busy as the rest of the film, *Episode IX* can boast any number of stellar sequences. Likewise, despite occasional muddy visuals, the film’s production design, costuming, and design teams realize a score of new people, places, and things in beautiful detail.
That aesthetic excellence, mixed with John Williams’s always stirring score, create emotional high points that the film has trouble ginning up through other means. While not fully seamless, the effects team works around Carrie Fisher’s absence in creditable fashion, even when the script gets a little clunky in trying to write around those limitations. A swelling score helps cover for the script’s middling attempts replicating the semi-profound pronouncements the franchise is known for. And raw images -- of a Force battle between Rey and Kylo, of Chewey pawing at the ground in anguish, of our heroes enjoying a warm, victorious embrace -- muster more feeling than the whirlwind plot and fan fiction-y lore expansions ever could. The craftsmanship on display in so many areas deserves recognition, even as the film rumbles through so much while practically bursting at the seams.
The advantage of *The Rise of Skywalker*’s grand, film-length rush through everything is that it robs the audience of the chance to stop and process what they’re seeing. Taken as a cluster of individual moments, of vague feelings and isolated sequences smushed together, the movie has a certain propulsive allure. The charm, warmth, nostalgia, and kinetic energy hold the thing together -- sometimes just barely, via the same duct tape and bubble gum holding the Millennium Falcon together after all these years -- but it’s enough to keep you along for the ride.
But when the ride stops, and the viewer finally has a chance to actually stop and process what they just watched, the movie all but falls apart. The more you stop and think about *The Rise of Skywalker*, the more the ungainliness of the thing stands out, the more its narrative leaps seem questionable if not downright baffling, the more its efforts to channel the affection for characters and stories past feel less and less earned.
Cinema is always a magic trick, and savvy audiences, willing to dig deep enough and think hard enough, will inevitably uncover the sleight of hand. The brilliance of *Star Wars*, past and present, is that the trick is mesmerizing enough, the magicians so endearing, that it’s easy and even fun to handwave away all of the ruddy details. But *Episode IX* crumples its own weight, but also accumulated weight of ten other movies, scores of spinoffs, and forty-two years of this franchise swirling around in the pop cultural ether that it strains to pay off and pay tribute to in a single, off-balance heave.
It attempts to be and do everything, with resurrections, redemptions, and reunions that all happen so fast and furiously that almost none have time to really land before it’s on to the next thing. That pace protects *Episode IX*, keeping both its stronger and weaker moments weightless enough that the film keep rolling no matter what. But eventually, like all things, it has to end. It’s then that the accumulation of story beats and character moments and callbacks feels less than the sum of its parts, less than the proper culmination of nine films’ worth of storytelling, less than the capstone to *Star Wars* that it aims to be.
*The Rise of Skywalker* isn’t a bad film. But it is, well, a lot. Abrams and company attempt to bite off more than they, and maybe anyone, could chew. The ultimate result of all this tumult, revision, and rebellion, is a well-intentioned but ill-fated finale -- one that does too much and yet, somehow, not quite enough.
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