The Last Jedi

A Desecration of Luke Skywalker and Star Wars

MindFull
10 min readApr 17, 2018

We all remember the arc of Luke Skywalker. A farm boy craving adventure who found himself whisked up in a Joseph Campbellian hero’s journey in outer space. He met Obi-wan and followed him on a path to learn the arts of the force, and his mentor later sacrificed himself in a face-off with Vader because he believed that Luke was destined to restore balance to the Force by defeating the Empire. We remember Luke’s later devastation when he found out his father is the evil, heavy-hand of the Empire. But still, Luke, with one flesh hand left, sensed his father had a shade of good in him and believed he could turn his father to the light if he confronted him in person. We remember Emperor Palpatine’s desire to manipulate Luke’s potential: “Let your hatred flow through you and strike down your father to take your rightful place by my side.” We remember Luke refusing; throwing his saber aside, refusing to kill his father, only for Palpatine to torture him with lighting. We all remember the climactic reveal that Anakin (Vader) was the real “chosen one” all along when he stops his son’s slow death and kills the emperor by throwing him off the balcony; erasing the Empire for the New Republic to begin an era of peace.

What happened afterward? “Officially,” in film format? Well, that answer was provided by Disney after their purchase of Lucasarts. ( *Spoilers ahead.*)

The Last Jedi tells us that Luke Skywalker established a school for educating force users in Jedi tradition. But, for some unknown reason, he sensed that one of his pupils — the son of his sister (Leia) and best friend (Han) — was too forgone to the dark side because Snoke had gotten to him somehow and so Luke decided that Kylo had to die. We watch a slow-motion scene of Luke Skywalker trying to kill his nephew in his sleep. He ignites his lightsaber to strike, then instantly regrets it. But, young Kylo was awake and saw Luke’s murderous intent and so defends himself by bringing the whole roof crashing down on them, along with the rest of Luke’s pupils. Luke, instead of trying everything within his power to right this wrong, becomes a hermit for the next thirty years on an island in the middle of nowhere, occasionally indulging in drinking the breast milk of walrus-looking aliens.

What the hell happened? More importantly, that last scene in no way serves the plot and only ends up embarrassing what some considered to be a hero.

Me Believing that the Luke from the original trilogy, who never gave up on his father and trained valiantly to be able to reach him in skill, would even consider for a second that there is just no hope for his nephew to see the light, is a damn hard pill to swallow. Mainly since this new franchise has not explained 1) who this Snoke is that has manipulated Kylo, 2) how he rebuilt the empire after the fall of Palpatine, 3) why the New Republic’s reign failed, and 4) how and why Snoke was in contact with Kylo Ren?

Those who defend this take on Luke will say that it was to show how even our most celebrated idols can succumb to a moment of weakness. Fine, I agree with that sentiment, but the problem is that the gravitas of this mistake is so immense that Luke comes off as a shameful coward at best. Heroes are supposed to overcome challenges — something Luke has endured. Why would he sit moping with his failure for so long only to finally be motivated to take action by the same hologram from A New Hope of Leia pleading to Obi-Wan for help, which initially inspired Luke all those years ago! Are you telling me Luke forgot that that existed? That he doesn’t remember his values? Really?

It was a missed opportunity and a grave oversight not to have the revelation of Han Solo’s death serve to knock some sense back into Luke. Ultimately, Han’s death amounted to nothing in this new narrative, as if any solidarity or closure for these icons is forbidden. The scene that is most symbolic of Disney’s treatment of Luke’s character, and by extension the value that fans found in Star Wars, is when Luke takes his old lightsaber hilt from Rey and tosses it over his shoulder without a care in the world. Why does he do this? Because he wants nothing to do with being a Jedi; its death must ensue with an undisturbed recluse lifestyle. Alright, but then why did Luke program a map of his location into R2D2, the reveal of which was the climax of the last movie? Chalk it up to disjointed, lousy writing.

The substance of Star Wars is gone and is now merely a foil wrapping to Disney’s agenda. For Luke to have been so out of character Disney must have either ignored the entire pre-established Star Wars lore or, Disney deliberately wanted the audience to feel betrayed by an icon they’ve held dear to their hearts for years. Given that Mark Hamill himself has stated that he fundamentally disagreed with every choice director Rian Johnson made for his character after reading the script, I suspect the latter…

A strange aspect of all of this is that all of the same plot points could have potentially worked if this wasn’t a Star Wars story; if these were characters in an original universe. It wouldn’t have contradicted the world George Lucas strove to create. A science-fiction-reflection of eternal archetypes of human psychology, patterns of trial and error, and persistent optimism in the face of power’s ability to corrupt. Was it just that Disney couldn’t resist recruiting the loyal fan-base and their fistfuls of cash? That was probably a factor, but it seems like a bonus to a more disturbing ambition. The cherry on top to subverting the very notion of nobleness.

Consider what the Force was in the original trilogy. Technically, there were theories of bloodlines making individuals more force sensitive, but they would still require training to wield it. Thematically, the Force was the essence of existence which could be mastered and guided with earnest practice, in the same way, that a surfer tames the waves he rides. The force was a metaphor for the individuals potential to control their destiny if they paid attention and were genuinely committed to bettering themselves. “Do or do not, there is no try.” The forces power was an indifferent potential for the individual to manifest how they saw fit; whether for good or for evil, and anywhere in between.

The Last Jedi scold us, saying it is silly or naive to conceive of the Force in this way. What has episode eight made the force out to be? Mastering the Force no longer requires training, practice or any refinement of virtues. You merely have to be the right candidate to channel the force, to any degree. How does one become the right candidate? Enter scene: Identity Politics. The film hints at the Force intelligently selecting someone to gift immense force power to when the dark and light are unbalanced, and the Force selects by morphological traits. Sadly, the only thing that makes Rey worthy of possessing immense power is that she is a woman and that a woman has never been the protagonist in a Star Wars film. I’m certainly not opposed to a woman being a Jedi, but when this is the only given explanation for her utterly unprecedented abilities, it’s a bit condescending.

Rey may as well be Jesus Christ. She never once asks for help from anyone, is never in any peril, even defeated Kylo (a Sith Lord nearing the end of his training) her first time wielding a lightsaber, and has now bested Luke Skywalker with a broomstick. These are some of the reasons why her character is widely criticized as a Mary Sue, because not only are her skills impeccable but her personality is as pristine and spotless as can be. When Luke was young, he was anxious and had to learn to temper his desire. Rey faces no such struggle. Also, I’m sorry Daisy Ridley, but the accusation of being a Mary Sue is not sexist because it’s commonly known in writing that the male counterpart is referred to as a Gary Stu. They are terms reserved for uninteresting, inherently perfect characters who can never fail and thus no challenge ever poses a threat to them. Result? Unexciting.

Luke gives three lessons to Rey, which serve as meta-lessons for the audience to accept as well. After all, they are coming from the mouth of a hero to many. Though, I hope to persuade you to consider that Luke has been used as a puppet.

The first Lesson is that the Jedi don’t own the light; anyone can wield it. But before, a Jedi simply was anyone who was able to wield the light: some stayed to study at the temples while others traveled as nomads. Again, now “anyone” can use the light but only as long as they reflect the superficial traits of whatever identifiable group is deemed the victim in our real world. The slave boy in the final shot of the film, who uses the force on instinct, is intended to punctuate this idea.

The second lesson is that the legacy of the Jedi was a failure. The meta-implications are that the heritage of western civilization alongside any country adhering to enlightenment ideals of reason, science, and humanism, are failures. Aside from ignoring babies in bathwater, this couldn’t be more wrong in light of any statistical analysis of global health, prosperity, safety, peace, and happiness, as they are all on the rise. Nevertheless, for all the good that it was intended to do, The Jedi Order and the New Republic repeatedly failed and allowed darkness to take hold of The Galaxy, without it ever being explained how or why this has happened.

The third lesson is mysteriously missing from the film, at least explicitly. Finding nothing of value in Luke, Rey telepathically contacts Kylo to inquire if maybe the dark side has something better to offer. Luke scolds her for this, driving her away before teaching her the final lesson. Later on, Luke and Yoda burn the remaining Jedi texts because, in a sarcastic jibe, “they were real page-turners.” The implied and breathtakingly irresponsible lesson is that, like Rey, we don’t need to read any work of literature by great thinkers that preceded our birth. All the skills and ideas you would ever need are pre-packaged within you. “Let the past die, kill it if you have to.” Never mind other age-old adages about repeating history out of ignorance of it. Nevertheless, the film itself contradicts its fumbled message when we see that Rey managed to smuggle the texts off the island at the end of the film. I guess she was smarter than Yoda in knowing that these texts do have value.

The ending of The Last Jedi is the most insulting aspect of the film. Luke manifests a hologram of himself from his island to serve as a distraction for Kylo, giving the rebellion time to escape. Yes, instead of the greatest Jedi of all time showing up in person to face his unbelievable failure face to face, he sends a projection of himself only to be so exhausted at the end of it that he fades off into the sunset. Now that he’s inspired to become the beacon of hope we expected him to be, he can’t even be bothered to stick around to aid the rebellion. If the writers wanted to kill him off anyway, why not have him die in battle? That would have at least added a pinch of intimidation to Kylo who mostly throws temper tantrums and sulks with his shirt off. Instead, Luke Skywalker’s legacy and death are treated as purposeless like a fart in the wind. Apparently, we were stupid to think he was reliable, let alone brave.

I’m almost tempted to say that anyone who likes this movie suffers from brand loyalty; that is, they will love anything, no matter how convoluted, as long as it has the Star Wars Label slapped onto it. I have focused on the treatment of Luke Skywalker and the underlying subversion of any meaning in tradition, but the rest of the film is full of pointless, incoherent story arcs, bland, annoying new characters, and advertisement for toys. All of the questions audiences had going into the film remain unanswered by the end of the film. Disney isn’t interested in continuity or following through on promises, but merely intent on leading you and your values (along with your wallets) through who knows how many spin-offs, using the nostalgia of Star Wars like a carrot on a stick. I will not be going to the theater to see another one, and neither should you if you are upset with this direction, because boycotting is the only way to get any studio to listen.

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MindFull

Undergraduate at The University of British Columbia