Men of a Certain Age

The time has come for me to finally divulge my feelings on Star Wars: The Last Jedi. I know I have made you wait a long time, but like a fine wine or a perfect steak, my feelings take time to season and mature. My immediate reaction would undoubtedly be of great value, but it tastes better after it has been subject to some time. Additionally, I could talk about the storytelling or the themes, or the acting, or the impact of the special effects, but I'll spare you and get straight to the most important aspect: the feels. So, how did I feel about the film? Did I like it? Did I think it was a stunning masterpiece or get offended by how much it totally sucked? Well, — actually — my take on The Last Jedi might surprise you. I felt it was okay. I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it. You may want to ruminate on that last point to fathom its complexity. The film produced neither gushing love nor infernal hatred in the realm of my personal feels for films. 

Yoda was all about the feels.

Past the first major point of consideration, we then move onto what matters next: how do I feel about the reaction to the film? This is an even harder question to answer. Usually, I would just actively find fault with the judgement, politics, or psychological make-up of those who felt the opposite to me about the film. "You're a delusional fanboy piece of shit", I would say to a complete stranger online, rarely wasting my time with any punctuation. "You're just a gormless 12-year-old bro-flake who has an unresolved Oedipus Complex", I would say to another. These options are not available to me in this case, however, as there is no singular, polar opposite to where my feelings have landed me. That said, with so much resentful reaction to the film, I cannot stay on the sidelines, giving no voice to my feelings about the feelings other people had about the film. 

For those of you who have been indifferent to the reaction to The Last Jedi, I shall briefly summarise. Much of the hatred centres around several points. Firstly, it portrayed Luke Skywalker negatively - a particularly low move, giving Mr Skywalker is now an elderly, lonely man. Secondly, Rey, like some sort of entitled bitch, gets Jedi powers, despite doing virtually no work to earn them. Thirdly, Princess Leia is powerful enough to survive the vacuum of space (something noise can only do in this universe), awkwardly dragging herself to safety with the Force. Fourthly, a faster than light ship can be used to wreck just about anything if it hits it at light speed. This can't be true, because, in this entirely fictional universe, we have never seen anyone do that before. Fifthly, we are denied intricate familial connections and revelations (and endless fan "theories"), when we discover that Rey is just a girl and Snoke is just a creepy old man. Sixthly, Snoke gets killed far too easily. Seventhly, Kilo Ren is a whiney, unintimidating villain. Finally, lots of plot threads in the film go nowhere. 

None of these points may seem all that important on how good the film is, but you must keep in mind the audience this is aimed at. Those of us who survey the character of mankind and are blessed with psychological insight into the various stages of life know well that men of a certain age long for nothing other than to frolic through the fields of tedious detail of films, and wax sentimental about the way they thought sequels would be. Background details of films and TV shows must be analysed and worlds must be built accordingly. Once created, those who so love the world feel compelled to protect it from inconsistencies, and protect characters from any real development. Every inch must be mapped out, every moment accounted for, every action consistent with predictable character parameters. In the case of Star Wars, it is perfectly natural for young men to protect its extended universe. You see, what is at play is the song that has filled the hearts of young men since time immemorial. 

Young men follow the course that nature prescribes when they angrily claim that the latest instalment has disrespected the fans, and what are we looking at but the rhyme and reason of the life cycle when over thirty-thousand adult men start a campaign to have The Last Jedi removed from canon? A man in the prime of his life rightfully finds himself spending his days trying to retrieve the film he concocted in his imagination for years, and dismissing what was actually produced as a kind of sacrilegious betrayal. A man, when he comes of age, must stake a claim in the fantastical series he has invested his money, attention and thoughts in. A warrior-like anger is the normal reaction of a grown man to the attempts of a director to make a film with strong themes and genuine surprises. When you are right, you must dedicate time to tell everyone on every medium available on the internet. Such is the yearning of a man standing at the apex of his life. 

In the end, however, we must eventually move on from this phase. We must learn to reject the need to be right, or the need for all the details of a fictional world to line up correctly. We all must learn to accept that not only are we often wrong, but it does not matter in many cases if we are right. Often the world, or a fictitious story, is not what we wanted or expected. Disappointment is frequently the order of the day. Life is not always fair. Plans fall apart. Failure is the law of the land. Your arguments, no matter how true to the facts, fall on deaf ears. We must also learn to accept, in the final analysis — in the calm temple of our hard-earned wisdom — that The Last Jedi is the third best Star Wars film in the series, behind only A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back.

It was a trap, old friend, but you're free now.