'This is not going to go the way you think' Star Wars: The Last Jedi proves that the Jedi suck
David Waterson • December 20 2017
The Last Jedi finally hit theaters, and it turned out to be more complicated than just one explanation. You can say that “last Jedi” is Luke, or that it’s Rey. You can say that the movie showed the destruction of the traditional Jedi order, or that it just left a path for it to live on in a different form. Regardless of interpretation, there’s one thing that’s constant: The Jedi are flawed and needed to end because the Jedi are bad.
This is how the Star War: The Last Jedi goes: Luke Skywalker is old. When we see him in The Last Jedi, the former golden boy who once gazed at the sky and dreamed of adventure is now a bedraggled gray hermit who just wants to be left alone, looking and sounding like a cross between True Grit’s John Wayne and Monty Python’s “It’s” man. He’s holed up on his remote island, alone with his guilt and his memories, milking the sour teats of dolorous alien hippos with a primitive, nihilistic gusto. He’s broken, having seen everything he’s ever accomplished—everything that made him a legend—rendered meaningless by the rise of yet another evil Empire under a much lamer name. All that he ever fought for, everyone he lost in the process (his aunt and uncle, his mentor, even his own father) was ultimately for nothing, because everything’s right back where it was. And then, he dies.
But then, that’s life. That’s how stories go, all of them. We evolve, for better and, probably more often, for worse. And we are always at war. In being willing to tell us that, at a time when we arguably need to hear it most—at a time when Star Wars’ original fans are entering middle age, and our culture is increasingly feeding us the kind of nostalgic comfort that can leave us dangerously entrenched and emotionally stunted, unable to cope with change—The Last Jedi gave us this heartbreaking, enraging, utterly bullshit enrichment of Star Wars as one of our most vital modern myths. What comes next will surely also be tragic and moving and triumphant and, ultimately, meaningless. I can’t wait to see it.