We’re into 2020, but it’s worth thinking about how crazy 2019 was in pop culture. We had the end of Game of Thrones, which may have been the most anticipated pop culture event of the year. That title could also go to Avengers: Endgame, which wrapped up a 23-movie anthology that spanned over a decade. And, finally, we had The Rise of Skywalker, which wrapped up its own nine-movie trilogy of trilogies that is in its fifth decade. When you figure that probably the two most popular film franchises, and most popular tv franchise, of the last 40 years both finished in the same calendar year, it seems like quite the anomaly. But it also allows us to compare the three, their approach to the end, and what it can teach us about the future of movies and television.
I’ll start with Endgame. Growing up, I read comic books, but I never really got into comic books. That is to say, when Iron Man was announced, I took it as another super-hero movie like we had seen in recent years with Batman and Spider-Man. I didn’t think it was be the start of the defining movie franchise of the century to date. But once the MCU got to the original Avengers movie, I was all in.
When I look back at the MCU, it’s amazing how little bloodshed there is basically until the final couple movies. Sure, there are the deaths of the villains and nameless/faceless civilians at large, but among the main comic book characters, there wasn’t many. It was basically Quicksilver in Age of Ultron, Yondu in Guardians 2, and Odin in Ragnarok. We can add Peggy Carter and Agent Coulson to the list as non-superheroes that died but really, that’s it. But once we get to Infinity War, and Loki is wiped off the board in the first few minutes of the movie, we understand that this is serious. We understand that if they’re willing to kill off Loki four minutes into what is effectively a 5 ½ hour two-part movie, then we’re going to lose a lot of favourites. That was paid off with Gamora’s death later in the movie, The Snap, and then both Black Widow and Iron Man in Endgame. The stakes earlier in the series were more existential and general – the fate of the universe – and while that obviously carries into Infinity War/Endgame, what gives those two movies their true emotional weight are the deaths of our heroes, the people we spent a decade getting to know. For as corny as it is, the, “I. Am. Iron Man,” line from Tony Stark is iconic not only because it’s his catch phrase, but because at that moment, knowing what the infinity stones have done to others wearing the gauntlet, we are made aware of Tony Stark’s fate. The face of the franchise is sacrificed to pay off the emotional weight of the entire series of movies, and whatever you may think of the Marvel movies, it’s a decision where the landing sticks.
When I think about how I got hooked on Game of Thrones, it was undoubtedly the ‘Baelor’ episode, season 1, episode 9. Anyone who’s watched the series knows what I mean. It set the stakes for us as viewers. We knew, after nine episodes, that this was a different world than what is normally presented to us in fantasy. This wasn’t a show where good deeds get rewarded and bad deeds punished; rather it told us it’s the inverse. I didn’t even start watching the show at the beginning, or initially read the books (I have since read the five offerings), I only started after the Red Wedding, and the fervour it caused on social media. That reaction led me to the show, and the ninth episode of the first season made me a fan for life.
At its essence, Thrones explained to us the world as it is, not as we want it to be. Yes, there is a struggle between good and bad, but it’s loaded with gray, and goes through painstaking lengths to show what the rich and powerful will do to stay rich and powerful. It’s a theme that transcends fiction and is part of what made it such a draw. But what it did was help set our expectations: good people die, and that can include your favourite characters. This was reinforced over and over throughout the series from Robb and Catelyn Stark, to Syrio Forel, to Hodor, to Oberyn Martell, to Ygritte, to Maesters Luwin and Aemon, to Shireen Baratheon, and however many others may have been favourites to some. The stakes were clear, and they were maintained throughout. Well, mostly, anyway, but we’ll get to that.
Now to The Rise of Skywalker, and I’ve been thinking so much about why the movie didn’t land for me. It goes beyond Rey’s parentage – I was a believer in the Rey Palpatine theory, so that didn’t bother me – and the Palpatine resurrection (though this should have been better explained, because there was no indication that this was a possibility beyond a Fortnite Easter egg, of all things). It goes beyond the clumsy handling of Finn and Rose, the MacGuffins, and whatever else. The reason this movie didn’t land for me is there was no emotional weight to it.
Whatever you might think of the new Star Wars trilogy, the heartbeat of the movies is the connection between Rey and Kylo. Strip away the nostalgia, and what you’re left with is a story about an orphan girl, a nobody, struggling to survive in a desert, a boy who is the literal progeny of royalty, the son of two military generals, who is deeply aware of his Force abilities at a young age, and how those two diametrically opposed poles can develop a profoundly deep connection. And for the most part, be it through JJ Abrams’ or Rian Johnson’s vision, that connection plays extremely well on our screens.
I said for the most part just now because Kylo’s death scene got my theatre audience laughing. Literally laughing. What was supposed to effectively be the climax of the entire series – Kylo reviving Rey, sacrificing himself so she can live – got nothing but laughter. It was the way she leaned in for the kiss and then he just crumpled immediately like she was Poison Ivy. What was supposed to the defining scene of a multi-billion-dollar trilogy that was part of a multi-billion-dollar movie franchise was met with nothing but laughter. And scouring social media, my theatre wasn’t the only one where this happened.
Then there was the death of Leia. As sad as it is to say, had Carrie Fisher still been alive, her on-screen death would have carried (seriously, no pun intended) a lot more weight. Unfortunately, her on-screen death was expected because of what happened in real life. It’s not to say it wasn’t sad – Chewie’s reaction certainly helped convey the moment when he found out – but when you go into a movie/TV show expecting a death, and then it happens, there’s not as much emotional weight.
Let’s go back to Thrones for a second. There was a lot wrong with season 8, but one of the things that bothered me so much was how little emotional payoff there was, especially in episode 3. The series spent nine years building up the White Walkers and their army, and what happened when they attacked Winterfell? Nearly every one of our human heroes lived. This is who died:
- Edd – a good friend of Jon’s but always in the background and more for comedy relief than anything. Most fans couldn’t name him.
- Lyanna – this one hit harder than any other, admittedly.
- Beric – did anyone care about Beric?
- Theon – this was probably cheered.
- Melisandre – did anyone care about Melisandre?
- Jorah – the guy who betrayed his Queen?
It’s clear they were hoping the deaths of Lyanna, Theon, and Jorah would be enough. Lyanna certainly had lots of fans, but she came late in the story, and I believe people generally didn’t care about a guy who betrayed the Starks, and a guy who betrayed Daenerys Targaryen. So this White Walker army, which had been built up for eight seasons, which decimated the entire Dothraki horde in 30 seconds, which overran the castle and had everybody pinned down in a courtyard, only managed to kill one person that fans would universally care about? I remember going into that episode with a running list of people I expected to die. I knew the confrontation with Cersei was coming, so a few key people had to live, but I thought any of Arya, Pod, Brienne, Sansa, or Tyrion would be taking a dirt nap (and likely more than one). But they all lived? This series, the one that hadn’t been scared to kill off anyone at any time, goes through its most harrowing sequence and basically one fan favourite (and one that wasn’t in the show for the first five years) out of a dozen is killed? It felt like such a cop out; that there would be this huge backlash if a fan favourite died. Stakes had been set that one small mistake meant someone losing their head at any point and now that a castle is overrun with hundreds of thousands of zombies, they make it through mostly fine? It was such a letdown emotionally.
Now back to TROS for a minute. What were the emotional scenes of this movie? Rey supposedly killing Chewie was definitely one, though they walked that back a few minutes later. C-3PO having his memory wiped so they could access the necessary information was built up as this great heroic sacrifice and then a few minutes later we get hit with the “j/k lol.” We’re basically left with three scenes: the arrival of the fleet in Exogul, Kylo’s death, and Leia’s death. I already mentioned how the two death scenes fell flat, so let’s talk about the fleet arriving in Exogul.
To be clear: when the entire galaxy arrives to help our heroes, it’s a genuinely great moment in the movie. I got literal goosebumps and there was even a smattering of claps in my theatre. It was awesome. And it often gets compared to the scene in Endgame when the un-Snapped heroes arrive to help Thor, Iron Man, and Captain America. When you hear “Cap, on your left” and then see the yellow portal open, it’s another goosebump-inducing moment. But it’s not the same as the one in TROS, not by a mile. While both great moments in the movie, the arrival of all the superheroes in Endgame is a true holy shit! moment in pop culture at large. When they show up, the sheer enormity of the accomplishment is laid bare on the screen: we wove together 23 movies over 12 years featuring dozens (hundreds?) of characters and did it mostly flawlessly (especially post-Avengers). When the fleet shows up in TROS, it’s “wow what a cool movie moment!” but when the heroes show up in Endgame, it’s “holy fuck I can’t believe they pulled off this entire saga.”
And that’s basically why I found The Rise of Skywalker lacking. I can overlook MacGuffins and plot holes; what I can’t overlook is a series-defining movie that doesn’t pay off our emotional bonds to the movie(s). For some, the ‘Star Wars’ franchise has been a part of their lives for over 40 years. For those younger like me, it’s been a part of your entire life, and the five moments that were supposed to pull at heartstrings were:
- Leia’s death – obvious
- Kylo’s death – drew literal laughter
- Chewie’s death – syke
- C-3PO’s memory wipe – syke again
- Fleet arriving – cool movie moment, pales in direct comparison to Endgame months earlier
It’s the same reason (well, one of) that Thrones season 8 fell flat: the most existential threat ever faced, and we lose a couple people who betrayed the characters we care about? It’s something you can pull off if you haven’t spent a decade establishing life-or-death stakes with every micro-decision. It’s not something you can pull off when you have.
It’s just the landscape of the movie/tv media industry now. You have to cross-promote as much as you can, which is why the Palpatine resurrection was intimated in Fortnite. (And it’s something that pervades other areas of pop culture, like wrestling, and is something I think is a harbinger of things to come. Media companies seem to care more about hardcore fans who seek everything over casuals. It’s the 80/20 rule playing out in internet content.) You have to have Kylo basically stitch his mask back together so his likeness can be used on Disneyland rides. And you can’t kill off fan favourites for any number of reasons not limited to merchandising, future injection of nostalgia in series offerings, or internet backlash in general. TROS seemed to hold back for all three reasons, while GoT was just the latter.
Thrones set up their own stakes and then failed the rules miserably while The Rise of Skywalker was clearly afraid of its own fans. Whatever the reason, both properties failed in sticking the landing emotionally while the MCU did it very well (even if I didn’t like Endgame as a movie as much as recent MCU offerings, it was a great finish to the franchise). There’s probably a lesson in here, but if I know anything about media companies, it’s that they’re far too concerned with earning gobs of money over coherent storytelling. And as everything gets condensed to four or five streaming options, options for boycott will be limited.
Cliffy's hell-hole 