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“DON’T Let the Past Die”: A Case for Nostalgia in Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Written by Vikram Nijhawan
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This is what Luke Skywalker says to his lifelong droid companion R2-D2, when the latter berated him for abandoning the Resistance and the Jedi ways in Star Wars: The Last Jedi. It is also likely these same words were uttered by a disgruntled fan, explaining to a friend why he refuses to return to the theatre to watch this film for a second time.
There is no question Rian Johnson’s second installment in the Star Wars sequel trilogy drew a fine line of division between audience members. Many applauded the film for steering the franchise in a new, unexpected direction, subverting the typical beats to create a more nuanced Star Wars story for the modern age. Meanwhile, the diehard fans criticized Johnson’s creative choices for disrespecting the lore which preceded it, resulting in a film which felt a long time removed, and very far far away, from the traditional Star Wars they enjoyed. It makes sense that a movie which advocates, on a thematic level, “letting the past die” would upset many long-time viewers.
The handling of Luke Skywalker in particular drew much controversy. The hero of the original trilogy seems unrecognizable from the character presented in this film. No longer is he a bright-eyed and optimistic warrior fighting for good; rather, he is a jaded and depressed Jedi, who feels he’s past his prime. There have been countless analyses of his actions in The Last Jedi, from casually tossing away his lightsaber at the beginning, to his arguably anticlimactic, undeserved death at the film’s end. However, one small moment, near the end of the first act, was seldom-addressed and yet incredibly riveting: Luke’s re-encounter with R2-D2.
Prior to this, all the audience witnesses of the great Jedi master is a curmudgeon, who wishes to remain in his self-imposed exile. When the young Rey seeks his guidance in the Force, Skywalker flat-out rejects her. Yet this two-minute scene reveals the plucky, high-spirited farm boy fans fell in love with back in the very first Star Wars film in 1977. Of all the scenes in this movie, it is this one which best acts as a bridge for the franchise’s past and present, able to satisfy long-time viewers and newcomers alike. The technique it uses is pretty simple: recontextualizing an iconic moment from the original films to fit the current one’s story. If the rest of the plot followed that underlying principle, The Last Jedi may have received praise from both segments of the audience. Instead, it merely illustrates what could have been.
The main aspect that distinguishes this scene from others is its subtlety. It conveys a surprising amount of information with little dialogue, which makes sense considering one of the characters speaks entirely in unintelligible robot noises. When Skywalker first enters the Millennium Falcon, examining all the old fixings and widgets, he is sombre. The viewer can infer that he is reflecting on all his past adventures in the famous starship, a stark contrast to the hollow and disheveled Jedi they see now. The disparity between his past and present self dismays Skywalker, as it likely does the audience, who are expecting their bold hero from the old films to resurface.
When R2-D2 awakens, the viewer catches a glimpse of that classic hero. Just as the fluorescent blue lights of his old droid sidekick light up, so too does the dour expression on Skywalker’s face. This is the first instance in the film where he appears genuinely happy to reacquaint with his past. After exchanging pleasantries (half of which the audience cannot understand, but can nonetheless appreciate), R2 addresses the Bantha in the room -- Luke’s abrupt disappearance. The droid’s aforementioned lack of discernible dialogue allows this scene to be more self-reflective for Skywalker. R2 is an excellent device for the disgraced Jedi to express his inner conflict to the audience in a natural way.
After Skywalker reaffirms his complacence, R2 plays his “cheap move”, projecting an old hologram message from the first Star Wars film, in which Princess Leia requests aid from the Jedi’s previous mentor, Obi Wan Kenobi. At this moment, it becomes clear to both Skywalker and the audience that his character journey has come full circle. When he first witnessed this hologram, he was a naive and impatient child, yearning to become something greater. Or as Joseph Campbell would put it, this was Skywalker’s initial “Call to Adventure”. Now, looking back on that recording as a cynical Jedi master, he finds himself on the other side of the threshold. Skywalker understands it’s his duty to fulfill the next crucial step in The Hero’s Journey, that of a mentor for Rey, as Obi Wan did for him all those years ago. By the end, he finally agrees to train the Force-sensitive girl.
This scene is poignant in its simplicity. It shows Skywalker’s character struggle in a mere two-minutes, without the need for hefty, dramatic diatribes about how the Jedi order needs to end, as is shown throughout the rest of the film. But more importantly, it functions as a worthy passing-the-torch moment, both in terms of Luke teaching the Jedi ways to Rey, and the franchise passing from the old generation to the new. This reunion between two old friends exemplifies how the right amount of nostalgia can benefit a decade-spanning story, not hinder it.
Disney has shown they are capable of executing this type of nostalgia well in other beloved franchises. One only has to look at 2019’s other epic cinematic conclusion, Avengers: Endgame, to witness that. When Tony Stark utters the line “I am Iron Man” at the film’s climax -- right before making the ultimate sacrifice and saving the universe -- it is a natural endpoint for his character arc. While in previous Marvel outings, he said this exact line under different circumstances, there is an organic continuity between the moments he uttered it and the state he was in as a character. Earlier, the line evinced Stark’s brazen, selfish nature, but when he declares “I am Iron Man” to Endgame’s antagonist Thanos, he is solidifying his heroic status, which is further reinforced by his subsequent altruistic action. The line doesn’t feel like it is there merely to pander to fans, and actually serves a valuable narrative function.
Much like Stark’s line, the appearance of Leia’s hologram message acts as a connective tissue for the whole Star Wars franchise up to that point, stringing together the plights of Jedi masters, and their continual obligation to pass on the teachings to the new generation. If the rest of the film adhered to the same theme and tone of this scene, it would have been a cohesive and satisfying narrative. But the film-maker’s goal of severing all ties with the past Star Wars conventions rendered this impossible.
With The Rise of Skywalker set to be released during the 2019 holiday season, the culmination of three film trilogies with millions of fans worldwide, expectations for a dignified conclusion are at an all-time high. To ensure this, perhaps a healthy dose of nostalgia is this saga’s only hope.
