Star Wars: The Last Jedi / *****

I should say, at the outset of this review, that while I’ve always enjoyed Star Wars films, I’ve never considered myself a “huge” fan. Maybe that’s because I’ve always measured myself against obsessive fans of the series who’ve consumed the side novels, who’ve argued canon, and so forth, but for me, Star Wars was something I enjoyed, but never truly loved. Going back and watching them with my son over the past few years has been a treat, one that’s reminded me of how good the originals can be (at least, the first two; I have far more mixed feeling about Return of the Jedi) as films, but still, it was something fun for me, little more. And The Force Awakens last year was much the same – I had a blast watching it, and I deeply loved getting to see a new Star Wars movie with my son…but in the end, it was disposable pulp fun – something I am always up for, but never really stuck with me.

All of which is to say, I never felt that any of the Star Wars films were “great” as films. Yes, they were fun, and imaginative, and could be a blast, and were undeniably iconic, but there was never any meat to them, nothing to hold on to. Which, again, is fine – you don’t need every movie to be “about something” – but nonetheless, always left me enjoying them and little more.

Until now. Because now, we have The Last Jedi, Rian Johnson’s bold, striking, visually astonishing entry in the series which manages to be the best of both worlds: it’s exciting and thoughtful, pulpy and philosophical, brisk and smart, all while being a fantastic time at the movies.

It doesn’t hurt that this may be the first time the series has been handed to a truly great director who’s been given the freedom to actually do his job. Lucas is…well, he’s Lucas, with all the good and bad that comes with that; Kershner did his job, but brought little else to the table; and even Abrams didn’t do all that much original. But Johnson, for the first time, brings cinematic craft to the series in astonishing ways, from inventive filming (there’s an homage to an iconic shot from the silent film Wings that made me laugh with joy) to breathtaking use of color (the two standouts: Snoke’s blood-red chamber and the salt-covered, red-sanded planet of the climax). It’s the first time that it feels like someone set out to be ambitious and make a movie that felt like a movie, and wasn’t content to just live in the shadows of its predecessors.

More than that, The Last Jedi wants to be about something. It’s a film about how we grapple with our pasts – how we can define ourselves against them, how we struggle to free ourselves from their shadows, and whether or not we should. “Let the past die,” one of the film’s villains says. “Kill it, if you have to.”

That’s no small thing for a film to say, especially when that film is a long awaited sequel to one of the most iconic films of all time – and one that will be (and already is being) judged by how it holds up against that film. How do we define ourselves against the shadows of the past, especially when those shadows are so large? And how will this film find a place for itself against the looming, dominant shadow of A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back?

The Last Jedi struggles with that, as well as questions of self-determination, hope in the face of despair, destiny, and so much more. And in the process, yes, it stands out in the Star Wars canon as the first film that defiantly, firmly refuses to play it safe, going in unexpected directions at every turn, giving us answers that defy expectations, and forging its own path instead of sticking with anything that the series has done before. In doing so, it’s alienated a lot of hardcore fans, who, despite complaining that The Force Awakens was little more than A New Hope redux, are horrified that they have a film that diversifies its cast, gives power to women, rejects the patterns and formulas established by the first films, and defiantly forges a way forward that leaves us completely unsure as to what happens next.

For some, that has led to anger and rejection of the film. But for me, it’s led to the first time I’ve truly loved a Star Wars film. The Last Jedi is pure blockbuster, make no mistake; the action sequences are breathtaking and spectacular, the plotting complex, the characters wonderful, and the humor expertly, wonderfully deployed. (You can count me on Team Porgs Rule, for what it’s worth.) But it’s also a film that grapples with its own purpose, a film that’s about hope and rebellion and what it means to let go. It’s nuanced and thoughtful, exciting and unpredictable, funny and well-performed (I haven’t even gotten to get into how Mark Hamill’s performance is the most fascinating, compelling version of Luke that we’ve ever gotten, nor how Adam Driver’s Kylo Ren evolves here from the moody Darth Vader clone of TFA into a truly rich, tragic villain), and just plain exhilarating. It’s a reminder that just because something is a big-budget action blockbuster, that doesn’t mean it has to be thoughtless. It’s a lesson I hope that more studios can learn, because if all big Hollywood studio hits were this good, we’d be in a great golden age.

IMDb