The 'Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker' Reviews Are In — Is It Any Good?
After the divisive reactions to "The Last Jedi," JJ Abrams was appointed to direct "The Rise of Skywalker." Is the movie a fan-pleasing conclusion of the trilogy or does it retread the same steps of "The Force Awakens" in the most disappointing, unoriginal fashion? Here's what the (largely spoiler-free) reviews say.
'The Rise Of Skywalker' Begins With The Return Of Palpatine
Via the opening crawl — "THE DEAD SPEAK!" — we learn that our late pal Emperor Palpatine, or someone acting in his name, is calling in attacks on the rebels from a hidden planet. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) resolves to track him down and destroy him to show who's boss. Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) is, by the way, called "The Phantom Emperor," which would have been a far cooler title for this movie than the one actually used (and also would have made more sense). His orders are, naturally, "Kill the girl." That would be Rey (Daisy Ridley), the only person left in the saga who wields the Force. Along with flyboy pals Poe (Oscar Isaacs) and Finn (John Boyega), she resolves to track down and terminate the emperor again, because every film in this series has to recycle previous plot points.
And The Tension Between Rey And Kylo Ren Remains The Backbone Of The Movie
She [Rey] and Kylo are powerful nemeses, each of them sensitive to the mystical energy known as the Force, with Kylo having embraced its dark side and Rey its light […] That tension — Rey and Kylo kind of dig each other, but they're also, you know, mortal enemies, so let's call it a love-hate relationship — is the spine of the new film.
Indeed, Their Relationship Might Be The Best Thing About The Movie
But the beating heart of this film, and the biggest reason I recommend it, is the evolving and intriguing relationship between Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). Rise of Skywalker is often a turbulent ride, usually to its detriment, but the storytelling conclusion for these eternally linked rivals (and the performances that carry these characters to their most powerful moments in the Star Wars series) eke this film across the "good enough for fans" line.
Rey is once again the center of the movie, and she's once again maybe its best part. The character has to endure a lot here—physically, mentally, spiritually—but Daisy Ridley continues to make it look all too easy. Close-ups of her reactions to some of the film's bigger moments are heartbreakingly beautiful and a reminder of what Star Wars can be at its best. Some of her moments are so beautiful, in fact, that the tears in your eyes may make you forget the bumpy ride it took to get there.
[Gizmodo]
Visually, 'The Rise Of Skywalker' Is Stunning
It almost goes without saying that, from a physical production point of view, Skywalker is stupendous, enough reason by itself to see and even enjoy the film. Clearly no expense has been spared in making almost every scene spectacular, and cinematographer Dan Mindel has here surpassed his work on The Force Awakens and numerous other special effects extravaganzas with his often striking images (some eye-popping settings, particularly in Jordan and along a stormy seacoast that makes the one in Ryan's Daughter look like a wading pool, don't hurt).
In "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker," there's a lightsaber duel that's pretty fantastic — not because of any unprecedented whirling-action whoa! factor (we have, after all, been through one or two of these my-sword-of-electric-fire-is-mightier-than-your-sword-of-electric-fire duels in our "Star Wars" lifetimes), but because of the emotions it channels. Visually, it's a splendid fight. Rey (Daisy Ridley), the Jedi Knight who's in the midst of trying to figure out, you know, who she is, and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), the First Order commander who's certain that he's figured out the Dark Side badass he is, face off outdoors, standing atop the ruins of the Death Star, a wasteland of corroded metal that looks like the aftermath of some intergalactic 9/11.
[Variety]
But The Movie Is Fast-Paced To The Degree Of Being Messy And Incoherent
Early on, Abrams and co-writer Chris Terrio introduce one of the laziest of cinematic tropes: an all-important MacGuffin the characters must find to move forward. The protagonists spend a great deal of time and energy chasing this object, but they're constantly interrupted by new and changing goals of the moment, which are often reached and resolved in a blind rush. It frequently feels as if no one really cares what the characters are pursuing, as long as they're doing it loudly, quickly, and with plenty of callbacks to the original trilogy, from characters to situations to specific lines.
[Polygon]
The movie is too determinedly on its sweaty course, heedless of actual audience interest in its tunnel-visioned quest to be broadly loved or, at least, Internet approved-of. The action set-pieces — a desert chase during an alien version of Burning Man, a rescue mission in a starship brig (unfavorably reminiscent of the one in the first film), an airborne melee full of radio squawk and explosions — all hurry along with perfunctory plainness. There's a passion lacking in the movie's big scenes (and, really, in the little ones too), as if Abrams was woken up in the middle of the night and told to rush down to the studio to put out a fire started by some intern named Rian.
With a group of characters looking for random objects that will provide a map to a legacy character, we're back to The Force Awakens narrative structure again. That journey takes the crew to several new planets, all of which are bustling with life, aliens, droids, and all sorts of awesome Star Wars background material. Each time the heroes arrive on a planet, something exciting happens — we meet a new character, there's a battle, a mystery is uncovered, etc. But the repetition is incessant […] It's all incredibly rushed and mind-bogglingly cluttered. You almost feel like two movies' worth of story are forced in, pun intended.
[Gizmodo]
With So Much Going On, Character Development Takes A Backseat
Early on, Oscar Isaac's cocky pilot Poe demonstrates a technique called lightspeed skipping where he zaps the Millennium Falcon from place to place, never pausing for more than a few seconds. The film as a whole feels a bit like this, jumping around with hardly any time for characters or moments to breathe. There's always more. More ships. More battles. More backstory for the main characters coming out of absolutely nowhere. Stormtroopers on motorbikes, Stormtroopers with jetpacks, and everywhere you look, more characters. But so much going on at once lessens the punch. Many of the characters, new and old, simply don't have space to breathe. Even the core characters are pushed to the sidelines or shuffled off with inexplicably muted endings.
[CNET]
The film introduces new supporting figures like the criminal Zorii Bliss (Keri Russell), who has a snazzy crimson jumpsuit and a long-buried connection to Poe, and the freedom fighter Jannah (Naomi Ackie), who shares some important background with Finn. But Zorii particularly is more of a narrative device than a person, because in general, characters' convictions and motivations matter far less than their utility to the plot. At multiple points, they exclaim that they have no idea why they're making some horribly risky decision, which feels almost like a metatextual cry for help.
Reception Towards Carrie Fisher's Appearance In 'The Rise Of Skywalker' Is Mixed
I don't really know how Fisher's appearance was created. It looks like a very high-tech combination of unused footage, digital effects, and terrible writing. Her presence plus the Emperor's shadowy appearance multiplied by other ghosts from the past equals yet another Disney-branded Star Wars looking ever backward, never forward.
[EW]
Leia's scenes, written around whatever snippets of dialogue existed or could be cobbled together, have the clunky feel of found-audio collages, but there, I'll admit, my desire to heal the wound of Fisher's abrupt departure was enough for to me to convince myself that it worked.
[Slate]
Like 'The Force Awakens,' 'The Rise Of Skywalker' Deals With Nostalgia And Fan Service In Spades — Maybe Too Much
Abrams steers The Rise of Skywalker straight back to the nostalgia-courting approach that served him so well with The Force Awakens. The most notable effect of that plan is that just as The Force Awakens mirrors A New Hope in characters, conflicts, and plot beats, Episode IX closely mirrors 1983's Return of the Jedi, to the point where savvy fans could easily call out half the locales, enemies, and story turns well in advance. It's a remarkably safe and timid approach, one that consciously reflects viewers' cinematic pasts back at them, with a "You loved this last time, right? Here's more of it!" attitude.
[Polygon]
[T]he film is an interesting study in how mega studios react to fan feedback, a whole movie crafted out of Sonic the Hedgehog's retextured fur. There doesn't seem to be any real organic idea animating Rise of Skywalker; instead it feels cobbled together from notes stuffed in the suggestion boxes of Reddit and Twitter. Which is awfully cynical. (The way this film handles the unfairly maligned Last Jedi character played by Kelly Marie Tran — which is to say, by completely sidelining her for this last outing — feels like a bad concession to bad people.)
If there's something you always wanted to see in a Star Wars movie, but haven't yet, odds are it's in Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. The film plays like a 150-minute checklist of cool stuff and surprises designed to please as many fans as possible. That may sound great, but in the process, that densely packed highlight reel fails to tell a story that's narratively interesting, thematically cohesive, or that builds any impactful stakes.
[Gizmodo]
The nostalgia festival proves one final kneecap-slice for the heroes of this sequel trilogy. Rey still suffers from a nasty case of flashbackitis, always almost remembering her parents. Her mysterious past is her entire arc now, and Ridley has to spend another adventure staring with pensive urgency, dutifully waiting to find out what character she's playing.
[EW]
And The Movie, For Better Or Worse, Seeks To Undo A Lot Of The Groundwork Established By 'The Last Jedi'
I suspect that more than a few fans who were incensed by "The Last Jedi" and its refusal to pander to their every expectation will be grateful to see Abrams re-ensconced in the director's chair. Even if you simply watch the movie and ignore some of the controversy-stirring pre-release chatter, "The Rise of Skywalker" nakedly offers itself up in the spirit of a "Last Jedi" corrective, a return to storytelling basics, a nearly 2½-hour compendium of everything that made you fall in love with "Star Wars" in the first place. The more accurate way to describe it, I think, is as an epic failure of nerve.
The haste with which The Rise of Skywalker rushes to undo its predecessor is almost comical at first, at least before its capitulation to the franchise's most toxic fans turns outright contemptible. Mad that Rey (Daisy Ridley), Finn (John Boyega), and Poe (Oscar Isaac) didn't spend enough time together in the last movie? Let's shove them into the same frame from the beginning and throw in lots of forced banter to remind you that they're pals. Didn't like when they killed off the pale evil guy with the misshapen face? What if we brought in another? And that whole thing about Rey being "no one," suggesting a radical rewrite of the idea that Jedi knights are made and not born? Well, you'll have to see what happens there for yourself.
[Slate]
The director is J.J. Abrams, perhaps the most consistent B student in modern popular culture. He has shepherded George Lucas's mythomaniacal creations in the Disney era, making the old galaxy a more diverse and also a less idiosyncratic place. Rian Johnson, who wrote and directed "The Last Jedi," injected some rich color and complicated emotion into the chronicles of domination and rebellion, and also a dash of iconoclastic energy. The bond between Rey and Kylo felt both politically dangerous and sexually provocative, while Rey's obscure origins suggested that the rebels might finally come to represent something more genuinely democratic than the enlightened wing of the galactic ruling class. Abrams, who also directed "The Force Awakens," the first chapter in this trilogy, suppresses that potential, reaffirming the historic "Star Wars" commitment to dynastic bloodlines and messianic mumbo-jumbo, even as he ends on a note of huggy, smiley pseudo-populism.
TL; DR
There's always been a secret cynicism underpinning Abrams' Star Wars blockbusters, which adrenalize the pop-est culture of his youth and avoid anything requiring originality or imagination. Now he's left grasping for source material he hasn't already replicated — and one late montage even copies a sequence added into Return of the Jedi's 1997 Special Edition. We need a new franchise designation for this stumbling, bloodless conglomeration of What Once Was. Rise of the Skywalker isn't an ending, a sequel, a reboot, or a remix. It's a zombie.
[EW]