Of course producer and co-writer Lawrence Kasdan made Han Solo’s origin a Western. After fleshing out the Corellian scoundrel with his writing on The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi (and breathing life into Lucasfilm’s other big franchise by scripting Raiders of the Lost Ark) Kasdan went on to write and direct 1985’s Silverado and 1994’s Wyatt Earp, two old school, classical oaters packed full of gunslingers, bad men, desperadoes and outlaws. His love for the genre is palpable. So while Solo: A Star Wars Story is nominally set in the seedy criminal underworld of that long ago, far, far away galaxy we’ve all become so familiar with over the past four decades, it’s really just the Old West with the serial numbers filed off and a light dusting of spaceships, droids, and Wookiees.
And that’s a good thing! While we get a couple of epic scale scenes, including a land battle inspired by World War One-era trench warfare (or perhaps Warhammer 40,ooo) and a space chase that includes a tangle with a vast, Lovecraftian beastie, Solo‘s narrative parameters are notably more modest than what we get in the core Star Wars flicks. This isn’t a story about saving the galaxy or vanquishing evil; rather it’s a fairly picaresque tale of a callow youth becoming a man, more or less, with a bit of adventuring and lesson-learning along the way. Our end goal here isn’t to change the world, but to put Han Solo (Alden Ehrenreich, giving good Solo without doing a straight-up Harrison Ford impression) and Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo, replacing the now-elderly Peter Mayhew) in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, and it’s no spoiler to say that, yes, that’s where we wind up, and we have a lot of fun getting there, spending a bit of time in the industrial slums of Corellia, a brief stint taking the Imperial shilling in the armed forces before our man Han hooks up with gunslinging gang leader Tobias Beckett (Woody Harrelson having too much fun) and learning the outlawry ropes.
The thread that ties young Han’s escapades together is lost love – our boy pines for his old flame Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke, not quite up to the task the script requires of her), the girl he loved as a gutter rat back in the day and who he finds again in the orbit of terrifying crime lord Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany, mixing camp and menace to good effect). Vos provides the potentially deadly pressure that sends our ragtag team off to steal a lucrative score from a spice-mining operation on the planet Kessell lest they feel his considerable wrath, and another piece of the Han Solo legend slots into place.
Solo‘s chief problem is that it so often feels like its checking boxes off a list, filling in the details of the Han Solo story already sketched out in the pre-existing films (and novels, comics, games, etc to varying degrees of canonicity. So: rescuing Chewbacca from slavery? Check. Meeting Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover) and acquiring the Millennium Falcon? Check? The Kessel Run? Check.
There are few surprises in Solo and that’s fine – in fact it’s something of a relief to have an almost spoiler-proof blockbuster on our hands for once. The film doesn’t deal in twists, but does throw in the occasional reversal, and these proceed from well-established character motivations, rather than being shoehorned in for the sake of shock. What the film trucks in isn’t surprise, but anticipation – the delicious thrill you get as a viewer when the penny drops for you ahead of the film’s characters, and it feels like it’s been a while since we had that sensation served up to us. One element aside – and that exists purely to set potential, nigh-inevitable sequels – Solo eschews “mystery box” storytelling in favour of good old-fashioned fun.
And what fun it is! This is after all, the movie where lifelong Star Wars fan Donald Glover gets to be Lando in all his cape-wearing, smooth-talking glory, and effortlessly steals almost every scene he’s in – it’s hardly a shock that there’s already talk of a Calrissian-centric spin-off. This is the movie where Woody Harrelson gets to spin a blaster pistol in each hand as he leads his team on an honest-to-God sci-fi train heist, a near-perfect marriage of Western tradition and modern tentpole spectacle (and never mind that Joss Whedon’s Firefly kinda did it years earlier and on a fraction of the budget). This is the film where Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s sardonic, robot-rights expounding droid sidekick gets to inadvertently start a slave uprising in the middle of a heist.
Hell, this is the movie where you get to see Han and Chewie pilot the Millennium Falcon together for the first time. All pretence to critical distance aside, if you’re of a certain age and cultural disposition, that’s a moment that lands like a punch.
It’s not perfect, though. While the one-liners and banter generally land, the more straight-up attempts at comedy tend to fall flat, and Jon Favreau’s comic relief alien pilot is just painful. The simple fact that Ehrenreich isn’t Ford, and that this Solo is not quite the Solo of old, takes a little getting used to and, let’s face it, may be an insurmountable hurdle for some. Poor Emilia Clarke simply doesn’t have the acting chops for the character she’s been given, and drags things down a couple of notches simply by defaulting to being Emilia Clarke in almost every scene she’s in, which is a shame. Qi’ra is central to Han’s character arc in the film, but the complexity required to make their story really land is simply absent due to Clarke’s limitations as a performer.
Still, in many ways Solo feels more like Star Wars than any of the other new generation episodes and, in what may be a first for a prequel, more readily lends itself to expansion and extension as well. With any luck we’ll spend a lot more time bombing around the galaxy with Han and his hairy co-pilot, getting into and out of scrapes by the skin of our teeth. In the meantime, this is what we’ve got, and it’s an absolute blast.
Alarm bells may ring when you realise that the second film in the shiny new Star Wars trilogy is taking its cues, at least in part, from the second film in the original Holy Trinity. The Force Awakens may have been The Star Wars Film We had to Have in order to wash the foul taste of the Prequels out of our collective mouths, but repeating that cheap trick again would be a crashing disappointment – do we really need The Empire Strikes Back 2.0?
Luckily, we needn’t have worried. Writer and director Rian Johnson (Looper, Brick) takes familiar figures, archetypes and tropes and pushes them into uncharted territory, examining them, recontextualising them, finding new facets and, occasionally, hidden flaws. The result is a film that simultaneously feels familiar and new – the first “new” Star Wars film since Disney took the reins and clearly, judging by the fact that Johnson will be heading up his own discrete trilogy in the universe soon, the template going forward. And that’s a good thing.
But, in the broadest of strokes, The Empire Strikes Back: while nascent Jedi Rey (Daisy Ridley) trains on the distant planet Ahch-To with hermit Jedi Master Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), the Reb – sorry, Resistance is on the back foot (a bit of a leap considering the massive military victory that capped off TFA), on the run from Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), wannabe Vader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), and the First Order fleet.
From there, things get more complicated: with the First Order able to track the Resistance convoy’s every move, ex-stormtrooper Finn (John Boyega) and new hero Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) must undertake a desperate mission to the luxury world of Canto Bight to find an agent who can help them give the bad guys the slip. Meanwhile, hot-headed X-Wing pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) has to contend with Resistance Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo (Laura Dern), who has no time for his recklessness, while he thinks her pragmatism is putting the entire Resistance at risk.
The Last Jedi delights in setting up and then subverting expectations. This is a Star Wars movie for a more complex age, and while the good guys and bad guys are still clearly demarcated, at a more granular level everything is a bit more blurred. Not every last-ditch desperate gambit works, not every scoundrel has a hidden heart of gold, not every stuffy officer is incompetent and, most importantly, not every aged Jedi is full of wisdom.
Indeed, what Johnson does with the Jedi is fascinating – old Luke has sequestered himself in some forgotten corner of the galaxy not to meditate, but to hide from the crushing guilt that he may be responsible for turning promising Jedi Padawan Ben Solo into the evil Kylo Ren. We’re used to reluctant heroes – here we have a reluctant mentor, fearful of training the naturally Force-talented Rey in case he makes the same error twice. Skywalker no longer sees any point in the existence of a Jedi Order at all – it seems Johnson is au fait with those fan theories about the arrogance of the Jedi – and in the context of this film, he may be right. Which is of no use to Rey, who simply wants someone to tell her what her place in the world is, and needs a wise mentor, not an old man filled with doubts.
That’s some dark territory, and arguably darker than the simple threat of the fascist First Order: it’s one thing to have the villains put a few runs on the board, it’s quite another to learn that the structures and assumptions on which we base our identities are shaky at best, and perhaps completely unstable. The Last Jedi questions the Light Side/Dark Side binary on which the Star Wars mythos is founded, and while we might wind up more or less where we might expect by the time the credits roll, narratively speaking, it leaves deep cracks in the firmament for later exploration.
We get plenty of adventure and action along the way, though. Exotic locales abound, from the aforementioned casino world of Caito Bight, which brings a little 007 flavour to the galaxy (and a missed opportunity for a pitch-perfect cameo, it must be said), to the salt flats of Crait, site of the climactic battle, fulfilling the Star Wars remit of taking us to places we’ve never seen and blowing up spaceships while we’re there.
The action sequences are top notch. Everyone likes to call Star Wars a space Western, but Johnson instead digs into the other two key stylistic influences on the trilogy – WWII films and Japanese chambara samurai movies, bookending Episode VIII with a bombing run straight out of Dambusters and a lightsaber duel that wears its Kurosawa debt on its flapping kimono sleeve.
All that mayhem is scaled up, too, in a concession to modern blockbuster sensibilities. Why have a Star Destroyer when you can have a Dreadnought? Why odds of a thousand to one when you can have a million? At times it stretches credulity, even for old Star Wars hands, but then this has never been a franchise with much debt to things like physics and probability.
But while there’s a lot of fun to be had, a somber pall overlays it all, to the point where some of the comedy beats fall flat in the overall context. This is a movie where the heroes are beaten within an inch of extinction, where the forces arrayed against them are monolithic, where the odds of victory are infinitesimal, and where terrible sacrifices are necessary to leverage those tiny odds. It is, ultimately, a film about hope in the face of overwhelming darkness – and rebellions, as someone once said, are built on hope.
Still, it’s only a glimmer of hope in this one – victory by the thinnest of margins, with the highest costs. The Last Jedi is an emotional wringer, and the film never lets us forget the human price that is paid in wartime – we’re perhaps all a bit too savvy than we were 30 years ago to think that casualties are bloodless. When we leave The Last Jedi, we’re in a much different and more difficult place than we were when we started, and while there’s definitely a path forward – of course there’s going to be an Episode IX – what that path might be is up for conjecture.
The Last Jedi is, to be clear, a great Star Wars film, one that honours the traditions of the franchise but boldly pushes the envelope in terms of thematic complexity and emotional tone. If this is indicative of the direction the core saga is taking going forward, we’re completely on board.