Camp National Novel Writing Month 2020

In a few days, another round of Camp National Novel Writing Month will begin. Unlike the primary challenge that happens in November, the "Camp" version is presented as a virtual form of going to a summer camp and sharing a "cabin" with other writers, with writing goals that we set ourselves. The challenge can be focused on a new novel project, or it can be aimed at editing an old one. It's flexible to the point where it's less stressful.

With the COVID-19 pandemic, my work schedule has drastically decreased, freeing up substantial time in April that I'd need to spend in isolation anyway. This means I have all the time I could ask for to work on a project of my choice. I decided it might be the perfect time to redraft and flesh out a novel project I've had in mind for the past few years. It's most easily summarized as Mad Max meets HP Lovecraft (largely in reference to the broad cosmic horror tropes, but tales like The Dunwich Horror and At the Mountains of Madness comes close to the weird things I have in mind). It's the first in a larger creative initiative to embrace surrealism more, to differentiate myself from other sci-fi and fantasy writers and create a more unique brand. This might even become a series if it works out well.

I've worked on this concept on and off again since 2017. It was originally an experiment to see if I could write serialized short stories based on one character and his world. The more I added to it though, arcs emerged that I realized would be better told as one whole novel rather than a bunch of disjointed shorts. The possibility still exists to make supporting short stories that branch off from this, but for now I have but one straightforward journey in mind. A number of ideas and scenes materialized into something more concrete, becoming the novel entitled Heathen.

Origins Of The Heathen

Around 2017, I read more articles and study on the concept of cosmic horror. It is a genre I was vaguely familiar with--there are aspects of it that I've always appreciated in much of my favorite media. But I never really parsed it out in such concrete terms. In the period between 2016 and 2019, I couldn't help but to notice a number of new cult films produced that emphasized Lovecraftian aesthetic and themes (most notably The Void, Annihilation, Mandy, The Endless, and The Color Out Of Space). Combined with a renewed appreciation for John Carpenter's work (especially the Apocalypse Trilogy--The Thing, Prince of Darkness, In the Mouth of Madness), I wondered what would the world look like if the monsters and horrors from these stories actually succeeded in conquering or destroying Earth.

However, I didn't want to make typical Lovecraftian monsters the sole threat. Monsters alone can be slain, even when they're huge, formless, and multi-tentacled. The real threat of these things (and the idea that I find most compelling) is that something can exist that extends beyond our own three-dimensional space, and thus we can't even perceive their whole forms or comprehend them. That is a concept Lovecraft explored in his own way. For me though, the monsters are at their scariest when they're invisible, can appear or disappear at any time, and their mere presence disrupts reality in ways we can't understand. Thus, the focus for Heathen is on reality changing, shifting, and our world becoming a hodgepodge of other realities (actually, this is probably something inspired by reading several PKD books). Earth becomes an unrecognizable wasteland full of ruins, dangerous creatures, and physical impossibilities. Above it all is a race of 11th-dimensional beings that casually crush and disrupt our world without a care for humanity.

Look, It's Rook In A Book

In the midst of this world, the titular Heathen character is molded after many of my favorite anti-heroes--guys like Mad Max, Ashley Williams (of the Evil Dead films), Kenshiro (Fist of the North Star), Guts (Berserk), and Roland (Stephen King's The Dark Tower). The common tropes I see with all these characters is that they're macho loners who fight monsters and other forms of evil, and often times straddle lines of insanity. Insanity, in turn, is a common element in Lovecraft stories, and that's probably where I found a connection. My character is a lone drifter and a tough survivalist like these dudes, who also fights monsters and deranged cultists.

The big twist is that the Heathen is in his element in his world because he is insane--what drives a normal person crazy will no longer affect him, and normal things will seem abnormal to him. There will be times in the text where this is emphasized with a recurring pattern of lines--in the old drafts I have, they read line this:

They could not break him--he was already broken. 

He could not be driven mad--he was already insane. 

This ultimately means that the book may take on a more deconstructionist tone, almost to the point of satirizing cosmic horror cliches (the drafted chapters I have feature the character taking out a stereotypical Lovecraftian monster--a big tentacled thing a bunch of cultists worshiped as a god--like it's just another Tuesday). While this may give the book an edgy, somewhat funny voice, there may be a challenge in underscoring what there actually is to the scared about when the main character is not scared of anything. Fortunately, this is where I see the reality-bending effects becoming more important--the character will be pushed to the limits even further, and it could be rather harrowing. Juggling the tone may be something I have to sort out in the editing though.

The main character is called Rook throughout the story. It's a shortened version of Rukenada--an extraterrestrial name given to him by one of the alien beings he encountered, and he truncated it in defiance (this word was also derived from a Scrabble game once, and I had used it to name a World of Warcraft character for a while--it was fun). The guy's real name is something more unassuming though--Trey Smith. There's a whole backstory behind the character and his identity, and it's one of the things I felt came together rather nicely. The title of Heathen came out later on--I always felt it would make for an interesting title for a book and a person, but I realize it fits this character for two reasons:

• In a world full of cults worshiping monsters and false religions, Rook is a man who sees through them and defies their beliefs. To them, he is a literal heathen.
• Thematically, Rook is also a character who's stuck in the old ways and doesn't change to the altering realities around him.

In The Plots Of Madness

Up till now, I tend to be a pantser. In writer's jargon, that means I just make stuff up as I go and don't bother planning anything (going by the seat of one's pants). Unfortunately, this has probably hurt my projects more than it helped--I have many manuscripts stuck as unfocused, sloppy messes in dire need of rewrites and re-planning. This extends to my last NaNo project, which had just a faint outline, but came out rather flaky regardless because not enough thought was put into the worldbuilding, side characters, and plot structure.

Heathen promises to be a more satisfying prospect for me because I have a plot structure mapped out, complete with well-defined acts, specific turning points, important reveals, stakes, and above all, reasons that go into the characters and their decisions. It's probably the most concrete plot structure I've committed to paper, and it's helped me realize the usefulness and importance of plotting. There are connections and motivations revealed that I couldn't have come up with by merely pantsing through it--I feel that the work will be all the stronger for it.

Spoiler-free, the shape of a heathen's journey.

I find myself more excited for this book because it still adheres to a formula I like--it's still a type of adventure story, where multiple characters band together and they embark on a journey, where they have unique encounters (which can be wonderful or terrible--since there's a horror slant on this, there might be more of the latter) and a lot of peril.

Soundtrack for Desolation

Music is probably the biggest thing that inspires and gets me excited for my own stories. Naturally, I assembled a playlist for Heathen based on the mood, style, and ideas I knew I wanted the book to embody. It consists mostly of dark ambient electronica, soundtrack music, industrial, and maybe a hint of synthwave. It can be heard on Amazon.

I've pulled from a few artists I know and love--most especially Trent Reznor (NIN and HTDA, some soundtrack stuff), Atticus Ross, Massive Attack (especially the Ritual Spirit EP), John Carpenter (mostly the Lost Themes albums), Moby, Photek, Orbital, lvl, Comaduster, Vessel, Portishead, Collide, and some other groups that are new to me. Soundtracks for films like Mandy, Book of Eli, Revenge, and Blade Runner 2049 have been very helpful in striking a dark, otherwordly mood. The Annihilation score (especially "The Alien" track) probably unsettled me the most and has been the biggest inspiration behind envisioning the book's monsters.

If the book could have a theme song, it'd be a tough choice between NIN's "Into the Void," (which as always been a favorite of mine--probably more because of the catchy hooks), Twenty-One Pilots' "Heathens," (which, once again, is just catchy, but the lyrics seem more fitting to represent the characters and their journey), or Mike Shinoda's "Nothing Makes Sense Anymore" (which I'm sure was written to describe Mike's turbulent emotions following Chester Bennington's passing, but to me the lyrics invoke the sense of a changing world, and thus seems to resonate with the themes I have in mind).

I did slap together a playlist based on Rook's character as well, which consists of metal (more NIN, but also Linkin Park, Fear Factory, Static-X, Rob Zombie, Zilch, and the like). It's mostly just for fun, but there is an uplifting feeling it invokes at times that I hope to match in the story's trajectory (especially in light of the theme of optimistic nihilism, or the idea of finding one's own purpose in life when life offers none).

Slipping Away

Starting April 1st, I will put forth the effort to nail a first draft down for this story. It would be my fourth attempt to do so, but what's different now is that I have a plan and a lot more concrete ideas. I still need to do some brainstorming behind the side characters, the events of the second act, and certain aspects of the worldbuilding. These are things that could either cause a block later, or just be fudged through in my usual style of pantsing.

It feels mostly realized in my head though. When listening to the book's playlist, reading certain stories in the genre, or watching select movies, I am reminded of the bleak visions I have and the manic characters populating a broken world. There will be dark and scary things in it, and there will be moments where things happen that make no sense. But I hope that readers will be able to root for the heroes and follow them to an uplifting conclusion. I have no idea how long the editing process could take after April, but with everything I've learned over the past five years, I expect it may go smoother than my older works. I hope that by this time next year I'll have a finished product to show off and be proud of--one that may be the start of my own brand of surreal fantasy and adventure.

Book Review: What The #@&% Is That? (Anthology)

This 2016 anthology from editors John Joseph Adams and Douglas Cohen showcases twenty short stories from twenty different authors, and each one is guaranteed to have a character ask the phrase "what the #@&% is that?" At the same time, most readers will read these stories and probably ask themselves the same question. Without becoming too derivative or homogeneous, this collection delivers twenty unique pieces of weird fiction, many of which dips into the realms of cosmic (or Lovecraftian horror). Others are more gothic in nature. A couple of these are science fiction. A couple are fantasy. Some stories are more literary than others. But all of them offer a touch of the surreal. It's bound to lose many readers, but for me this turned out to be a perfect selection.

Of course, some stories elicit more excitement than others. I'm largely unfamiliar with all of these authors, save for Alan Dean Foster, probably the most accomplished of the lot. The other writers are no slouches though, and many have impressive resumes. I appreciate the craft that went into most of these stories--there's a familiar pattern that emerges, in which each story sets up characters, tensions escalate, something bizarre is discovered, then there's an unsettling payoff.

My favorites of this collection include Scott Sigler's "Those Gaddam Cookies," Christopher Golden's "The Bad Hour," D. Thomas Minton's "Now and Forever," Grady Hendrix's "The House That Love Built," Adam-Troy Castro's "Framing Mortensen," Terence Taylor's "The Catch," and Foster's "Castleweep." Jonathan Maberry's "We All Make Sacrifices" is listed as a "Sam Hunter Adventure," which is a series I'm unfamiliar with--turns out it's about a werewolf PI. I gotta say though, I was genuinely hooked by its voice and content. Out of all these stories though, it is Seanan McGuire's "#connollyhouse #weshouldn'tbehere" that unsettled me the most--it's written entirely as a Twitter feed, but it plays around with the timestamps and hashtags to underscore a paranormal threat, and I'm personally awed that McGuire crafted the story so effectively using such minimalist techniques. Just about every story utilizes good narrative voices and structure to present unique ideas, and sometimes different techniques. Some of them are so fantastic they could make your head spin. All of them are quite edgy in terms of content and language. Many showcase mean-spirited characters, but I never reached a point where I wanted to punch any of them--most of the authors succeeded in finding balance, resonance, and depth to make even the cruelest character relatable.

Even the stories I liked less are pretty noteworthy. Laird Barron's "Mobility" has one of the strangest finales of the lot--it has to be read to be believed. Nancy Holder's "The Daughter of Darkness" bears some of the strongest Lovecraftian parallels, albeit without copycatting--it's quite effective. I can't help but to admire the characters and prose involved with An Owomoyela and Rachel Swirsky's "Whose Drowned Face Sleeps"--this piece oozed potent emotion and imagery. Amanda Downum's "Fossil Heart," Simon R. Green's "The Sound of Her Laughter," Desirina Boskovich's "Down in the Deep and the Dark," Isabel Yap's "Only Unclench Your Hand," Gemma Files' "Ghost Pressure," Tim Pratt's "Hunters in the Wood"--all of these have their inherent strengths in their respective stories, characters, and prose, even if I found them a little less exciting. That only leaves Maria Dahvana Headley's "Little Widow" as my least favorite, but it's probably more the case that I failed to grasp its meaning (although I do have to say, I found it rather disjointed).

There's a little bit of everything, but it's a largely dark and macabre collection with a lot of surreal twists and unusual monstrosities that will likely get under your skin. Some stories pack a surprising emotional punch, and others yet are just perfectly-paced. I found myself looking forward to reading each new selection, and I came out of most stories pleased. It's just the perfect blend of literature that's sometimes challenging, sometimes inspiring, but always fascinating.

As a writer seeking to pursue surrealism, cosmic horror, and weird fiction myself, this is exactly the sort of material I needed to read to gain an understanding of the genre and how to approach it. I have nothing but gratitude towards every author and the editors for this collection--it set a benchmark for me, and these stories are just the inspiration I needed right now.

9/10

Recipes For A Starving Writer: Lemon Chicken and Rice Soup

Soup is not always exciting stuff, but the combination of tangy lemon, tender chicken, and fluffy rice is a rather satisfying concoction. A pot of this for a single person can last for at least several dinners--it can either feed you for a week, or you can freeze it until needed. And if you run across some days in which you just don't feel like making anything, it's quite easy to pull this out of the freezer and nuke it. On top of that, it's reasonably healthy, it'll warm you up on a cold day, and it could help you fight a cold (depending on what you add to it--garlic would help a lot).

Sandwich not included.

How affordable it is may depend on what ingredients you have and what you can buy. The core ingredients would be chicken broth (which can be made from pre-existing chicken and vegetables), chicken of some kind, lemon juice (either squeezed from a lemon, or you could get away with buying a bottle of it), and rice. Ideally, you'd also want some vegetables (carrots, celery, onion, maybe other things, but I've made it just fine without having some of these on-hand). Additional spices (salt, dill, garlic, bay leaves) will make it taste good, but if you don't have any of these, its absence won't hurt you--it might just be a bit bland. Even then, I'd recommend tasting it and adjusting to your preference anyway with what you do have on-hand (if anything). Buying all the below ingredients would come out to about $25 or less depending on quantities and brands, and a lot of these things (especially spices) will be useful in many other dishes you make beyond this one. $25 or less, to feed you for a week or more--you can't find a better deal eating out.

To make, you will need a large stockpot. A large spoon or ladle will be useful here. You might need a sieve if you're making the broth from scratch. To squeeze lemons, you'd want a squeezing tool or juicer (doing this by hand is hard and ineffective--otherwise, you could cheat and get a bottle of lemon juice). A cutting board and knife will be necessary for chopping vegetables. Prep bowls would be useful, but not entirely necessary. Of course, you should have a bowl and spoon to eat from, and tupperware to store excess soup. If you expect to cook regularly, you should have all these tools to begin with. If you need all of this, it could cost up to $100, but a set of knives, a set of bowls, a set of silverware will last for years, and the price could be much less if you only buy one bowl and one spoon. That all depends on your situation. Tupperware, even in sets, run cheap. Buying the tools you need to make the soup is more like $55 or so--once again, these tools (a stockpot, ladle, lemon squeezer) can last for years and help you make meals over and over again, versus eating out every day. These things should be seen as long-term investments.

What I like to do is buy a rotisserie chicken (from Kroger, it's $5), eat the wings and legs over the course of a few days, then shred up the breast meat for the soup. You may not even need all this chicken for the soup, so one cheap chicken can last for an incredible number of meals. Just be sure to remove all bones, gristle, and skin before throwing it in the pot.

The recipe I've been using was one of the first hits I came across from a simply Google search. You can find many more variants all over the Internet, and chances are good I'll try a different recipe at some point.

Ingredients

• Broth (you can either buy some in a can, in a box, use bullion cubes, or follow the instructions to make your own). To make your own broth, you'll need:
• The chicken--see below
• 1 onion, cut into wedges
• 2 carrots, halved (maybe more for broth)
• 2 celery ribs (maybe more for broth)
• 4 cloves of garlic
• 2 bay leaves 
• Salt and pepper
• 1 whole chicken (3-4 lb) rinsed (cooked if you have the broth pre-done)
• 2/3 cup long-grain white rice (I've had no problem using Basmati rice for this, but be aware that other types may not turn out so well--brown rice would be a little too gloopy)
• Seasoning
• Salt
• Pepper
• Dill
• Bay leaves
• 2 tablespoons of lemon juice (can use more if you want more zing to it)

Directions

For broth:

1. Place the chicken, all the vegetables, garlic, bay leaves, 2 teaspoons of salt, 1 teaspoon of pepper, and 8 cups of water in your large stockpot
2. Bring to a boil
3. Reduce heat and simmer until chicken is tender (approximately 1 hour)
4. Remove chicken. Shred and discard its shin and bones. Set it aside
5. Strain broth through sieve. Discard solids and return broth to the pot

For the soup:

1. Bring broth to a boil. Then reduce heat and simmer
2. Stir in rice
3. Cover and cook for 10 minutes
4. Stir in shredded chicken, carrots, and celery
5. Cook, covered, until rice is tender and fluffy (another 10 minutes)
6. Stir in lemon juice and dill. Season to taste if needed
7. Boom, it's ready. Serve immediately--refrigerate or freeze what you don't use

I've recently made a large amount of this soup in reaction to the recent COVID-19 outbreak--since I may be housebound for a long stretch of time, this soup can be a long-term ration if there's a point when I start running out of other groceries (or if grocery stores run out of groceries) and need something to tide me over. Of course, it's also a convenient meal on days where I don't feel like cooking. In either case, I made it as a form of prepping.

While shopping for ingredients, I found that most canned goods were sparse, but chicken broth was still available. Meat sections were bare, but i had no problem buying freshly-cooked rotisserie chickens. Produce was still abundant. Spices were still abundant. So long as you can find a whole chicken (or maybe chicken breasts, or strips--check the frozen aisle if need be), you shouldn't have any issues putting this together even in the midst of a pandemic.

Video Game Review: Quake (1996)

In 1993, id Software unleashed Doom on the world and thrust gamers into literal Hell. Despite the deep influence it offered with its mechanics and technical quality, there were limitations that wouldn't be surpassed for many years. In 1996, id shook up the FPS genre even further with Quake.

Taking inspiration from the works of HP Lovecraft, Quake immerses gamers into four separate worlds, all connected with Slipgates that connect the Earth with other dimensions. Each world offers slight variations on fully three-dimensional maps, where the search for keys, buttons, elevators, and secrets pushes you, the Ranger, through a grungy labyrinths of stone and metal. These places are filled with denizens you must blast through, including the undead, blood-stained knights, a chainsaw-wielding ogre that lobs grenades, fiends that leap at you with tapered stabby arms, and many stranger abominations. Once you collect four magical runes, you inevitably come face-to-face with the ultimate horror--the titular Quake--which threatens to destroy all mankind.

Even this synopsis is hard to extrapolate from the game itself, since it explains hardly anything about the Ranger character, the backstory of the Slipgates, and the threat of Quake. After going through a few halls designed to select your difficulty and episodes, you're immediately thrust into these worlds and have to simply fight your way through. It's similar to Doom in the way you simply glide through the levels, blast your enemies, solve simple puzzles, and continue into the next area--all with the story understated, to the point where it hardly even matters. The experience of slaying enemies is the point, and in Quake it's just as lucid and empowering as ever. Only, with a bigger slant towards cosmic and gothic horror, the game is given a slightly slower pace and a more unsettling atmosphere. Moody lighting effects, bleak textures, gory and provocative imagery, and an uncanny music score by Nine Inch Nails makes the dark setting palpable. Even the sound effects, as blunt and choppy as they seem, are distinctive and add a hard edge to the experience.

What's most admirable about the game is how far it advanced the technology. This is one of the first (if not THE first) game where literally everything is rendered three-dimensionally--not just the rooms and objects, but also the enemies, weapons, ammunition, power-ups, and projectiles. The 3D advancements also extend to the level designs, which make ample use of the technology to layer passages, bridges, elevators, platforms, and more on top of each other vertically. You can even plunge into water or acid and swim through certain areas. All of this may be taken for granted today, but in the 90s this was all cutting-edge stuff.

All that being said, the game always had a certain clunkiness I found a little garish. Not that the game was ever meant to look pretty, but the limitations it shows have not aged well. Most enemies are blocky, chunky things that become obscured in clouds of large red and gray particles. Textures, though detailed and appropriately grim, are a bit of an eyesore with how blocky they are. Even more disappointing are its limitations with how many enemies and guns you actually have. You spend 32 levels fighting the same 13 enemy types--of those, there are a few less commonly seen, leaving the zombies, knights, soldiers, ogres, scrags, and fiends as your primary focus for most of the game. I rather wish the four different worlds had four different kinds of models. Of the weapons you use, it's the shotgun (in two different forms), nail gun (in two different forms), and explosives (in two different forms) you use most of the time. The lightning gun is a really rad weapon, but it comes up rarely and it burns through ammo so fast. So when you spend level after level shooting the same baddies with the same old shotgun over and over again, it becomes rather mundane. There are two major boss fights in the game, but they're both easily dispatched with unorthodox techniques (Chthon is easily taken out by hitting some switches and lightning rods do the rest--I don't even know why that would affect a lava monster, but whatevs. Quake is taken out via telefrag).

I also wish more thought was put into the story, but the story we're given is just thin connective tissue to tie up four different areas developed by four different teams. Each area is given a slightly different flavor and approach, ranging from medieval architecture to more otherworldly designs. Many levels stand out in interesting ways, and there are some interesting mechanics put into the way elevators, teleporters, and platforms work to keep the player guessing. Secrets are always rewarding. Some challenges and puzzles are fascinating. This is a game where the experience of the levels come first, and combined with the ambience, it is a fair standout.

It is clear that id had limitations, causing them to slap the game together with less nuance in scripting a story, and more focus on technical qualities and the gameplay experience. I wish certain things had more variance, but the way it pushes 3D technology is an admirable milestone in gaming technology. The game is worth a playthrough or two for the quality of its worlds, although it was only a small taste of better things to spawn from its innovative engine. More serious gamers will probably find more to love through Quake's multiplayer options (which were rather new and impressive for its time) and its numerous mods.

I have to add, I love the Quake logo.

7/10

An Appreciation of Star Wars Episode IX: Rise of Skywalker

WARNING: SPOILERS FOLLOW

In 2019, I'd say that life was going pretty good despite all the doubt and shame I had felt the last time a Star Wars movie hit the big screen. The Last Jedi was one of a few things that picked up my spirits back then. But when the last chapter of the Skywalker saga was released, my expectations were tempered. I had spent a couple of years mulling over all the strengths and weaknesses of Episode VIII, and it was pretty clear that filmmakers couldn't afford to take any more creative risks with their grand finale. It had to stick its landing and keep fans on their side.

From an artistic perspective, I had a bad feeling about this. The days leading up to the film's release, I only saw more and more reasons to be skeptical that Rise of Skywalker would surpass expectations. If anything, the leaks and behind-the-scenes analysis I saw were discouraging. It felt like a countdown to disaster.

Nevertheless, I dutifully saw the film on the big screen with my father. I think we both agreed it was...okay.

LOOK AT ALL THESE SHIPS!

After a short while, I realized it was not entirely okay. I thought back on the events and what they meant, and things just weren't adding up. This is by far the first and only time a Star Wars movie let me down, and it's on thematic and character-based grounds more than anything. I could accept a lot of the flaws the Prequels, Anthology films, and The Last Jedi showed, but at least they showed some kind of consistency, dedication, and sometimes depth. Rise of Skywalker is the first time I felt like things were way off-base. Then I realized that much of what it delivered--new characters, new worlds, new ships, creatures, the works--none of it added much to the overall story. Narrative arcs flatlined. Characters reverted back to square one (save for Rey maybe, so there's that). Minor characters are snubbed. The plot felt like a slapdash string of action scenes. Looking at the overall picture, it seemed messy in all the same ways The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies was (and my feelings for it are the same as Rise of Skywalker).

In the end, my feelings for the Sequel Trilogy mirrors how I see the Dark Knight trilogy--strong first chapter, interesting second part with a lot of bold twists and directions, but a weak and messy third chapter. It's probably telling that both The Dark Knight Rises and Rise of Skywalker were originally penned to be much longer, but were trimmed--Abrams cut about 40 minutes from the final film, and chances are that there's a lot of juicy story content there that could have streamlined things in a more sublime manner. But this probably wouldn't fix all of the issues I see with it.

As of this writing, it's been a few months since the film's release and I've come to terms with the final product. Frankly, it looks good and has a lot of scenes I can admire, but there are a lot of weaknesses that bug me. For a conclusion to the Sequel Trilogy, this does what it has to okay, I guess. But there are missed opportunities, and the final message of the entire Skywalker saga is rather muddled.

Tell Us There's A Plan!

It's nearly impossible for me to think about this movie without thinking about the behind-the-scenes rigamarole between JJ Abrams, Kathleen Kennedy, George Lucas, Rian Johnson, and an entire army of angry fans who demanded repentance for the ways Disney desecrated the Star Wars name. Most of Rise of Skywalker is designed as damage control, to reverse some of the creative decisions made before and win fans back. Even today, some fans have clamored that "JJ Abrams saved the franchise!"

Did he though?

I feel like there should be a Star Wars and Annihilation mash-up here. Bring back Natalie Portman and it all fits!

Abrams only has two sequel movies under his belt. Mission Impossible III, his first feature film, was a soft reboot that didn't demand a whole lot of complicated storytelling. The film worked because it took something that was already a blank slate and filled it with something emotionally significant (this, in turn, is not too different than how The Fast and the Furious became beefed up over the years despite starting off as a pretty bland trilogy). The only other sequel Abrams created that actually had continuing arcs to work with was Star Trek: Into Darkness. For all its technical strengths and spectacle, the film left much to be desired. I suspect that the plotting issues of that film stemmed from the writers and the weird way they wedged in parallels to their own 9/11 conspiracy theories. What hurt the most was the film's unwillingness to do anything different--it was literally a remake of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

Now with Rise of Skywalker completed, I can't help but to look back on Abrams' filmography and see his collective weaknesses. The man can do a decent enough job of setting something up, especially with the whole "mystery box" angle (in itself, just a fancy way of talking about story questions that keep audiences glued to the story). He's never shown an ability to follow through, build or complete arcs (narrative or character), or even resolve these mystery boxes he's so fond of giving us. Star Trek is one thing--those characters generally stay the same by nature. And it's been left to other directors (most notably Christopher McQuarrie) to run with the Mission Impossible franchise any way they want.

Fans, was this really the right guy for the job? Sure, he created an exciting, high-paced adventure with emotion and nostalgia, but he lacks nuance and I'm not even convinced he knows how to deliver a satisfying payoff for a long-running story arc. Folks have said that they'd have rather seen Abrams direct the entire trilogy and left Johnson out of it, but I'm not entirely convinced it would have made the series any better.

Well before 2015, it was made known that three different directors would handle the three movies of the trilogy. It only seemed to make sense because the Original Trilogy was handled the same way, and it worked just fine back in the 80s. It might have even helped, since each film has a slightly different approach. The Prequel trilogy showed how a homogeneous effort could become detrimental, since all of Lucas' own weaknesses carried over across all three movies. So I have to ask, did you really want three whole movies of Abrams beating us over the head with nostalgia, dazzling us with lights and nonsensical action, with little-to-no room for actual storytelling? Because that's probably what he would have given us.

If LucasFilm stuck with its guns, we could have had a film directed by Collin Trevorrow. I'm not even sure if he's really a great director by any means (I mean, Jurassic World was cool and all, but I haven't seen his other work yet). But he had his own treatment, which would have included a lot of ideas and directions that may have been more interesting than what we ultimately received. It would have been unlikely that he'd show the same faults as Abrams. That's the value of diversifying the talent--to allow for different strengths to pitch in on the saga, instead of having the same weaknesses heaped onto the series.

What helped the Original Trilogy was that it had a unified vision, thanks to George Lucas. With Lucas out of the picture since 2012, one can't help but to look at the one person who he entrusted with the series and wonder what the heck is going on. I have a suspicion that Kathleen Kennedy had no real vision for this series, other than to push Rey as a new heroine for fans to look up to, maybe even at the expense of making her outshine legacy characters. There's just no way to unsee the cynical capitalist (and maybe even political) agenda that she and Disney adhere to. They aren't using the Star Wars brand to tell a story, so much as they're trying to generate merchandise, open a theme park, and win over as many fans as possible.

Given all the issues the movie has, I couldn't help but to eyeball Chris Terrio's name and wonder how much we could actually expect from the guy who helped pen Justice League. But that would be disingenuous, given that Terrio wrote Argo, which won an Academy Award for best adapted screenplay. I'm more inclined to believe that the failures of Justice League stemmed from Joss Whedon redoing the whole thing, and the failures of Rise of Skywalker likely stemmed from Abrams' contributions to its script. It makes me wonder what ever happened to Lawrence Kasdan and Michael Ardnt. Allegedly, Rise of Skywalker had six different cuts made before its final release, each one trying to pin down a perfect ending. One of these endings was endorsed by Lucas (but most definitely overruled by Kennedy, who wanted to make Rey the champion of the series).

To be fair to the filmmakers, Abrams does seem to have good intentions in mind, given that the film shows quality, spirit, and emotion in bursts. The man already faced immense pressure to win over fans with The Force Awakens--he's pressured to win them back after The Last Jedi and round this saga off. It's a tall order and he does the best he can. But what this series really needed was for the producers to have a single, complete vision for the entire story and how it'd be told. Instead, we're given one movie (a rehash nonetheless), another movie that does its own thing, and a third installment that undoes the previous movie and then does its own thing. It didn't have to be this way, and it's a shame that it's come to this.

You Have Paid The Price For Your Lack Of Vision

A metaphor for LucasFilm?

In most good franchises that I know of, stories always flow in one direction, linking past events to the present to create a narrative with a forward trajectory. Look at the Marvel movies. Many fans loathed Thor: The Dark World, but that didn't stop future films from picking up the threads it left behind, and it didn't stop Avengers: Endgame from revisiting the events of the film and addressing forgotten characters (most notably, addressing Thor's mother and Jane Foster). And those are details that made the series feel unified and complete. Fans appreciated it.

By comparison, look at how screwed up the Terminator franchise has become. That series has gone through three reboot cycles, each one promising a new trilogy or series, but always failing to follow through. It now has only two films that work together, and four sequels that ignore each other. What a bloody mess.

I see no reason why Star Wars had to go the way it did in addressing where The Last Jedi left off. I've heard it said many times that TLJ killed the series and gave us no direction for the last installment. It shouldn't have mattered. Rise of Skywalker had the chance to tell any kind of story it wanted to, and it could have done so with the following threads carried over from before:

• The New Republic has fallen.
• The First Order is still a threat and the Resistance has to build itself back up to face it.
• Rey is still struggling with her identity. Is she really a nobody? Who will she become?
• Kylo Ren is still evil, and is now the Supreme Leader.
• Snoke is dead. What does this mean for the First Order? Who was he, even?
• General Hux spent most of TLJ being pushed around and disrespected. Maybe it's time for him to reassert himself?
• There are relationships established between Rey, Finn, Poe, and Rose, and any of them can be deepened, challenged, and even become a romance.

These aren't particularly restrictive--the parameters for a new story are very broad. This could have left room for an infinite number of ideas. The galaxy has been in chaos since The Force Awakens--maybe crime syndicates like Crimson Dawn start taking over huge chunks of the galaxy as warlords and dictators. Maybe the First Order will be split apart politically and a civil war breaks out everywhere. Maybe something happens with the Force, and it evolves into some kind of Force God that threatens all life in the universe. Maybe EU characters like Thrawn or Mara Jade will finally make an appearance. Or, maybe more importantly, somebody will actually get around to rebuilding the Jedi Order from the ashes.

With Rise of Skywalker, these are the directions we're actually given:

• The New Republic is never mentioned or addressed again. The galaxy appears to be under authoritarian control by the First Order, somehow. And yet, the Final Order is on its way, for some reason. As many fans pointed out, why does the Emperor have to conquer a galaxy that's already been conquered?
• Rey is not a nobody after all, she's the grand-daughter of Palpatine, and her parents squirreled her away on Jakku for her protection. But Rey will ultimately identify as a Skywalker, because for some reason she can't make her own identity.
• Kylo Ren continues being evil, but will turn good once Leia dies and he talks things over with a hallucination of his dad.
• Turns out that Palpatine created Snoke and manipulated Kylo all this time, as part of a new gambit to rule the galaxy. And that's all you need to know about Snoke, right?
• General Hux becomes a mole. Then he's shot for it.
• Rey, Finn, and Poe do a bunch of stuff together, meet a bunch more character, and that's it. No explicit romance happens, just friendly hugs.

Couple all of this with the following points:

• Kylo Ren pieces his old helmet back together after showing submission to Palpatine (for some reason). So much for him moving on from the mask and such--he reverts back to what he was in The Force Awakens.
• Rose is given the Jar Jar Binks treatment and shoved to the background of most scenes with way less dialogue and involvement with the story. You all happy now? Yes? Good! Let us never speak of her again and ignore any possible ways she could have actually been used in the story.
• Remember how Holdo rammed Snoke's ship with her cruiser at lightspeed? Don't worry, weaponized FTL will never be brought up again (in the meantime, here's some lightspeed skipping!).
• Luke's Force ghost comes back to tell Rey that he was wrong for being a grump in isolation. He goes on to raise Red 5 from the sea.
• More checkboxes! We get to see the Knights of Ren, finally. And since this is the last film of the Skywalker saga, we need the end-all-be-all battle scene at Exegol!

All of this happens to undo the things from The Last Jedi that many folks found disagreeable. In some cases, things happen that probably should have happened previously (even going so far as giving Chewbaca a medal, which is something that fans thought should have happened in A New Hope. This is a nice scene and all, but it really isn't necessary. It's more of an inside joke at this point, you guys didn't have to take it that seriously).

These are the things I hate the most about these directions.

• Not every hero has to be a great somebody, descended from powerful bloodlines and whatnot. The Force in particular manifests in random people all over the galaxy--some are more gifted or talented than others, but they could come from any background. It can be an inherently powerful story to show a nobody character become a somebody. This could have happened with Rey if they chose to keep the backstory that TLJ gave us. But Abrams and the gang couldn't help but to readdress the issue and recon it at least somewhat. I see a crap ton of issues with the Palpatine connection, but it's clear that this is done to appease fans who wanted more out of this. Just as The Empire Strikes Back delivered a profound twist on the characters, we all yearned for the same thing in this series. Johnson denied us that, so this is the best that Abrams can do without doing something as predictable as making Rey a daughter of Solo or something.
• Kylo Ren--I was liking him as a villain who could stand on his own with his own identity. I thought it was a strong moment for him when he responded to Snoke's criticisms and smashed his helmet--he purposefully destroyed a symbol of identity (one designed from worshiping old tyrants) so he could bare his own face and seize power for himself. But what does he do in Rise of Skywalker? After a murderous rampage and a determined search, he finds Palpatine and becomes his crony. When he reforges his helmet, it's a step back for the character, because he reverts back to his old identity as a Vader wannabe. And this time, he literally is standing in for Vader. I expected more out of you, Kylo.
• What ticks me off the most is the sheer lack of guts. It's clear that the filmmakers were unwilling to take any risk that could alienate fans any further. Whether it's intentional or not, it has the unfortunate effect of watering the movie down, turning into something bland, cliche-ridden, and flat. When they make a dramatic twist (such as having Chewbaca captured, and leading Rey to believe she accidentally killed him), the film never leaves any story questions hanging--within a matter of minutes, it will rapidly step back on itself and tip its hand way early, to assure audiences rather than keep them in suspense. They didn't have the guts to assert that Rey could have ended her story as a nobody who became a somebody--all they could do was attach the Skywalker name to her identity and claim that the journey is complete. At its worst, the movie becomes a droll, soulless product. At its best, it makes me scratch my head.

Everybody Gets Delusions Of Grandeur

This leads up to something, right? RIGHT?

Addressing the trilogy's primary heroine and villain, I couldn't help but to keep asking myself if any of their resolutions made me satisfied. They didn't. Everything that happened to them felt unearned.

Kylo makes me scratch my head the most. Here is a guy who liberated himself from Snoke, seizing control of the First Order while announcing his motivation to burn and kill the past. I saw all of this as an affirmation that he'll remain the bad guy to the end, to keep stamping out idols and symbols, to burn the system and even his own identity so it can all be reborn as something new. This mirrors the anarchic cycles of cinema's best villains (like the Joker), and it becomes a parallel to the deconstructionist themes of The Last Jedi.

But because it's not good enough to continue on those lines for some reason. Was the direction so bad that they had to reverse it and make Kylo a stooge again? For Palpatine now? Why, even?

What I like about the opening scene is that it look as though Kylo is on the war path, hunting down Palpatine's signal with the intention of killing the fool. I suppose the sheer power that Palpatine exudes, along with his inexplicably powerful fleet, could intimidate Kylo into submission. Or else it was Palpatine's revelations about controlling his thoughts. Considering all the internal conflict Kylo has concerning his own identity, and his previous decision to rebuild himself as his own person, he should have stuck with his guns and told Palpatine to buzz off. They should have remained enemies.

Nope, that doesn't happen. But to make matters even more convoluted, Kylo becomes good, presumably forgiven by Han. I'm sure if Leia had a Force ghost appearance, she'd probably forgive the brat too.

To be fair, the scene plays out in an interesting way. They repeat the dialogue from The Force Awakens, but instead of committing to the Dark Side, Kylo tosses his lightsaber away, rejecting violence the same ways Luke did in Return of the Jedi. It all rhymes like poetry!

The problem is, I don't feel this redemption is earned. Even with Han standing there--as a real embodiment, not as a translucent ghost--I couldn't equate it as actual forgiveness because it's not literally Han. It's just Kylo's memory of him. In essence, this is him hallucinating Han's presence and imagining his forgiveness. And that's just delusions of grandeur. If you dragged Han's actual ghost into the scene, he'd probably be ticked off that his own son murdered him.

That's not something I'm willing to let go of that easily. Kylo crossed a moral event horizon, not only through patricide, but also with the mass slaughter of his fellow students. Kylo may be conflicted, but I don't really believe he wanted to become good again. He goes through with helping Rey defeat the Sith, but why? Because Leia's gone now? Is it guilt?

Darth Vader's redemption feels earned because it's clear that he wants to connect with his son. That inherently shows that there's still love in his heart. We don't see any such indication for Kylo, save for that one instant in The Last Jedi when he hesitates to fire on his mother. In Rise of Skywalker, Kylo had Chewbcaca captured, and that could have been an opportunity to explore the theme of atonement. Instead, the film is more interested in rushing to the next plot point, leaving no room for character development. When changes happen, it's a sudden, jarring moment that has no build-up or reasoning.

When it comes to Rey's development, I feel a little more satisfied that she's forced to contend with feelings of guilt, shame, fear, and she has to further question her identity. Supposedly, everything in the three films leads up to the final shot where Rey tells a random stranger on Tatooine that she's Rey Skywalker.Cool. Skywalker has risen! Like...a loaf of bread or something.

The problem I have with Rey identifying as a Skywalker is that, once again, it shows a lack of guts on the filmmakers' part. It's as if they couldn't trust a new set of characters to sell themselves--they had to work in the Skywalker family thematically, so Rey had to connect to them somehow. I don't know why they didn't just make her Ben's sister, but whatever.

What exactly is wrong with her saying "I'm Rey" and leaving it at that? She's spent all this time learning about her history, training in the Force, making hew own friends, having her own adventure--what about all of this makes her a Skywalker specifically? What does it even mean to be a Skywalker? I honestly don't know now, the film doesn't answer that in a satisfying way.

If I walked around and introduced myself as Charlemagne, would it make me King of the Franks? I'm pretty sure if I announced this identity in front of the Vatican, I'd be laughed out of the courtyard. Just because somebody can say they're so-and-so doesn't mean it's true. This is not how personas work. This is just delusions of grandeur.

What I ultimately take away from the film is this: if you can pick up a pair of lightsabers and blast evil in the face, you too can be a Skywalker! And I think that message is kinda dumb. Wouldn't it have worked better to deliver the message that says you can be your own person and find your own power and place in the universe? What was wrong with that?

The Dead Speak!

Time for a dungeon raid.

At the end of Return of the Jedi, Sheev Palpatine, the Big Bad for six straight episodes, was most definitely dead. If the fall down the infinite Death Star shaft didn't kill him, the Death Star explosion would have.

And yet, the evil sucker returns on Exegol, backed by a population of Sith people. With a few passing details, we see that they conduct Frankenstein-esque experiments, to include making Snoke clones (and that's how Snoke came into being. There, you happy now?). With just a few words, it's revealed that Palpatine influenced Kylo the whole time, and with Kylo's loyalty he'd grant control of the Final Order. Then all of the suddenly a bajillion Star Destroyers rise up from the planet's surface, each sporting planet-destroying cannons, and...well, they sit there. It's the film's final gambit that the super duper fleet needs coordinates to leave Exegol safely, although I have no idea why Kylo wouldn't have been able to provide that information after his successful flight in the first scene. And come to think of it, there is one Star Destroyer that does leave and destroy Kijimi in the middle of the film--how did that even happen?

Palpatine's return has been speculated since the beginning. And since The Force Awakens, I've always heard the rumor that filmmakers wanted to unify all the movies by the finale--incorporating Palpatine in the narrative is a key factor. It would have been smart if it was done correctly. As it is in Rise of Skywalker, Palpatine's return is dropped on us suddenly, without explanation and therefore without logic. This guy was literally vaporized once, but the only dialogue we're given is a repeat of the line from Revenge of the Sith: that some paths of the Force are unnatural. Between that and the Frankenstein-inspired visuals, I'm pretty sure we're supposed to believe that the Sith use some combination of technology (cloning?) and Dark Side power to achieve resurrection. On top of that, Palpatine demonstrates a new Force ability to drain life from others. I'm not actually sure why he spends most of the movie as a shambling corpse in this case, couldn't the Sith have made sacrifices to make him whole and healthy again?

More work should have been put into the story and dialogue to make this plausible. In fact, I'm not even sure if bringing Palpatine back in the flesh is a good idea at all--he could have remained a spirit, and he'd still be an intimidating threat. What disappoints me the most is that, despite the promise that this movie would unify the entire saga, it doesn't even bother to make the connections that would have resolved certain threads previously left hanging (the most blatant of which is resolving Anakin's "virgin birth" mystery--Lucas didn't have the guts to leave it in the script that Palpatine used Plagueis' power to create (or at least influence the birth of) Anakin, but this is a direction I suspect is intended. Sadly, Abrams doesn't have the guts to pick this thread up either). The connections that are made don't necessarily line up. Since when did Palps have a family? How the actual heck can he have a granddaughter?

The problem is, the film makes no attempts to show or explain how or why any of these decisions are possible. The reveals just happen and you're expected to take it without question. But this shows a certain disrespect to the audience in its own way--we like to draw connections and have things line up and substantiated. To give us answers without reasons is unsatisfying--every good story needs to show HOW and WHY things happen, but this movie fails at both those questions.

What's sad is that it wouldn't have been hard to fix. I may not like the idea of Palpatine having a granddaughter, but call her a "creation" of the Sith, then fine, I could accept that. Explain what Snoke's purpose is and maybe a little more on how and why he found Ben, corrupted him, and brought up the Knights of Ren, and this would have all gone down easier. Couple all of this with previously disappointing directions (such as destroying the New Republic before we even had a chance to get to know it), and the whole trilogy feels shallow and offbeat.

Frankly, Palpatine as the villain is probably not the best choice anyway. If for no other reason than his return robs Vader of his victory from Return of the Jedi. Those events become pointless when the same bad guy is simply resurrected and the galaxy is thrown in peril again. Filmmakers could have picked any other direction, and it would have been more fresh and satisfying. I personally wouldn't have minded it if Kylo lands on Exegol and finds Darth Plagueis there as the mastermind all this time--if anybody had the power and influence to control a galaxy in the shadows, why not the one Sith lord who mastered life and death? The film could have gone on to unify the series by showing/explaining how Plagueis' powers engineered the Skywalker family to manipulate the Prophecy. But a decent film could have been made all the same if neither of these villains were brought up--the film could have introduced a new character, or a bigger threat, or it could have just focused on a galactic civil war.

Nope. With Palpatine's return, the film banks on a familiar character we all recognize, offering no surprises or much of a payoff.

I will give the film some credit though: I did like Exegol as a setting. It was something unique and new to the series. It reminded me a bit of Mass Effect, in the sense that both stories focus on existential galactic threats that exist beyond the boundaries of explored space. Exegol even conjures up a grim image that straddles the line between something gothic and something alien. This was a visually stunning place that made the Sith seem more paranormal than usual, and I would have liked to have seen the film take a more paranormal direction if it could. Especially with the way the film opens (with the line, "the dead speak!"), and the way each film seems to make Force ghosts more prominent. Each of the nine films could have built up to a major spectral event (I guess it kinda did with all the Jedi channeling their spirits through Rey, but with only voice-overs, the effect is not as spectacular or chilling as it could be).

Unfortunately, any cosmic terror that Exegol exudes is nullified by the bizarre decision to have an entire fleet rise up out of the ground. How is this even possible? I'd accept it if they were oddly-shaped rock ships or something, but these are solidly-built and obviously manufactured Imperial ships--fleets are made in factories, not conjured from underground, so what the hell?

The mysteries of Exegol are further shrouded by having it exist beyond a red nebula of some kind, so volatile that it can tear ships apart. I understand that this is what keeps the planet distanced from the rest of the galaxy, but it's poorly shown in the film--the nebula is basically a gaseous blob the ships fly through, but there's nothing to prevent an approach from any other direction. I do understand why the film uses the nebula approach as a story problem, turning the coordinates into a kind of football that has to be passed and used by both fleets in the end, but the film should have done its due diligence and shown Exegol surrounded entirely by the red mist, and not just having it as a single blob facing one way. For that matter, I don't know why it's this way and not something else more impressive, like, say, a black hole cluster.

MaGuffin Quest

HOLY SITH!

One Youtuber made a point that I can't unsee now--JJ Abrams crafts his movies with a lot of plot, but fewer scenes. That means that we're given movies where characters run around a lot, always moving from point-to-point, often shouting their exposition along the way to string us along with some semblance of a story. There are far fewer actual scenes where characters remain still and use dialogue to reveal aspects of themselves. I do believe that most of Abrams' movies have enough scenes to make them seem fulfilling. Just about all of his movies do some kind of work to establish characters and set up some arcs--I just don't see much work done to create satisfying payoffs.

It's at its worst with Rise of Skywalker though, not only because of all the points I've already ranted about, but because the entire film is made to be a quest. We've already had this in The Force Awakens, with characters clashing over map pieces and such. As the third part of a trilogy, it's not more quests we need, it's scenes, especially ones that resolve lingering problems and answer unanswered questions. This is what Return of the Jedi did, and it did so in a way that still weaved in epic amounts of adventure and battle scenes. It worked because there was no questing involved--all the characters already knew where they had to go, they just went there and conflict broke out.

Rise of Skywalker turns Exegol's location into a story problem that the Resistance has to figure out. To find Exegol's location, Rey, Finn, and Poe need to find a Sith wayfinder (one of only two in all existence). To find that, they travel to Pasaana, where the find a Sith dagger that shows the way to a wayfinder. But it's not as simple as picking up these pieces and going to the next point--the Knights of Ren show up, a big chase happens, then there's that whole thing with Chewie, then a whole thing with C-3PO, then they all have an impromptu Star Destroyer raid with a lot of shootouts and fights.

All of this takes up, like, half the film. There are some interesting reveals that happen--we find Lando hanging out on Pasaana, and we learn that Luke caught wind of the Sith wayfinders and Lando was helping him. I'm not sure if this is a smooth fit at all, but it sounds good, right?

The rest of the film takes the gang to Kijimi, where they meet a shady character who shares a history with Poe. This is interesting and all, but why this, and why now? Poe's relationship with Zorii Bliss adds nothing to the story. Then they all go to Endor of all places, where a big chunk of the destroyed Death Star takes up the entire horizon (as pointed out repeatedly before, the Death Star II was blown to billions of pieces, with no possible way for a piece this big to exist). A big duel happens. The film notably throws a wrench in things by having Kylo destroy one of the wayfinders, but Rey takes his TIE fighter and obtains the other wayfinder anyway (but not before running off to Acht-To for some brief moping). Eventually, all the forces come together at Exegol for a huge battle.

The thing is, the huge battle could have been the whole movie, or like half the movie. As it is, it feels like we spend two whole hours running from one planet to another, but with hardly any room for further character and story development. We are introduced to many new characters--Zorii, Jannah, Babu Frik, General Pryde--and none of them really needed to be in the film. Jannah probably has the most purpose, since her low-tech forces enable the Resistance to attack the Final Order fleet with an advantage (although, space horses on a Star Destroyer's hull in space is a little hard to swallow). As a former stormtrooper, Jannah should have chemistry and parallels with Finn. And at times it seems like the two try and connect. Nothing really comes of it though, just as nothing comes out of Zorii and Poe. Babu Frik only gets a pass because he's awesome.

This movie is just stuffed, but it didn't need to be. Of the many paths the characters take to get to Exegol, all they really needed was one direct line, which could have been provided with one single subplot to acquire a single wayfinder. To add a dagger, forbidden language, a Star Destroyer raid, at least two mysterious characters, and more complications, it just makes the plot far messier than it needs to be, and leaves no room for any revealing insight. I can appreciate The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi for their various scenes where characters express their feelings and thoughts to each other. It's fewer and further between in Rise of Skywalker, and there's no payoff given for the reveals that are given. Even the one surprise of Finn being Force sensitive elicits a shrug more than a gasp (although I have to admit that this lines up somewhat with how he held that lightsaber in The Force Awakens).

A Place In The Cinematic Universe

They really let this place go, huh?

To be fair to the movie, it does draw a few connections I can appreciate. Reason being is that it shows at least some effort to tie some threads up, even if other payoffs fall short.

• The Snoke connection. Unsatisfying, but it's better than not addressing it at all. 
• Palpatine repeats the dialogue from Episode III, describing some paths of the Dark Side as unnatural and such. It does little to explain anything, but it's open-ended enough to let the visuals speak for themselves. I'm okay with that, but a little more something would have been nicer yet.
• Rey uses the Jedi texts from The Last Jedi to find more information on the Sith wayfinders.
• Hux is addressed, and ultimately "taken care of."
• Rose still exists.
• Lando returns. Can't say his connection with Luke makes that much sense, but at least he mans the Falcon again. That is, after Han's passing. What are friends for after all?
• Endor as a plot location.
• Han reappears before Kylo.
• Rey returns to Acht-To briefly. I'm kinda happy that this location was used in all three films, if for no other reason than it's a gorgeous location.
• Porgs are shown once again!
• Red 5 is used. Even though I can't fathom how that hunk of junk still works after being underwater, I do like how Luke raises it like it's nothing, then grins. It's like he's secretly saying "how do you like those apples, Yoda?!"
• Ewoks are shown once again!
• Chewie gets a medal--a callback to Episode IV.
• Rey returns to the Lars homestead for the final scene.

There's just enough of a bridge from the last film to make RoS feel like it belongs as a finale. I may not like or agree with some of the things the film reverses, but it never felt like it straight-up ignored or disrespected Johnson's film--it just zigged when I wished it zagged.

There are many other clear callbacks, usually in the form of ships (B-Wings, yay!), props, costumes, and other cosmetic things.

For Better And For Worse

C-3PO jacks into the Matrix.

I feel as though I've spent most of this post ranting and raving about the movie. In reality, it's pretty fun to watch in the moment (as it is with all of JJ Abrams' films). It's just a little frustrating to reconcile as part of the series.

There are just a few more points I dislike about the film. Those things are:

• It's been mentioned in a few different places, but it's something that can't be unseen: when everybody falls into the quicksand, they fall through it and come out in caves beneath it. That's...not how quicksand works.
• There's that whole rigamarole where Rey accidentally zaps a transport and believes that Chewie was onboard. But the film shows us that he was actually on a different ship. Okay--there was clear skies all around Rey, she should have seen that second ship. Hell, she should have sensed it and sensed Chewie onboard (although I suppose it can be argued that her dabble with the Dark Side blinded her at the time). It's a bit of a cheat is all.
• Zorii Bliss' introduction scene is weird. One minute, she wants to blow Poe's head off. The next, she helps Poe and shoots the other bounty hunters. I get that she has a love/hate thing with Poe, but the way things change betrays a change in motivation that doesn't really make sense. She has every reason to not help the Resistance, but she only pulls through for them because...love, I guess? It's flaky at best, and I suspect it's done more as a cliche than with any serious thought put into the character.
• It's been mentioned plenty of times before, but I can't deny it's a disparity--when the Death Star II exploded, it left no major wreckage behind that we could see (and dear God please don't let them digitally alter the scene again). It makes no sense that a quarter of the Death Star lands on Endor and takes up the horizon--a piece that big shouldn't exist based on what was shown to us back in 1983.
• Star Destroyers with planet-destroying cannons. No. Just...no.
• How about that final battle, eh? It's cool and all, but there are things about it that fall short.
• The biggest disappointment with the Battle of Exegol is that it doesn't really take the opportunity to create any subplots within the space battle to make it captivating. It all amounts to a bunch of ships shooting at other ships--the objectives of the fight are limited strictly to a fight on a Star Destroyer's hull, and Rey's confrontation with Palps. This leaves the actual ships (and Lando) with nothing much to do other than to blow stuff up. It's not nearly as interesting as how the Battle of Yavin relied on a very specific maneuver to work, or how the Battle of Endor was pieced together with a number of problems that had to be resolved on the fly. The Battle of Exegol could have gone any number of ways--it ultimately hinges on space horses more than spaceships.
• We see the mother of all fleets appear right at its most dire moment. We see thousands of capital starships on the screen. After those shots, we see surprisingly little of them. I loved the Battle of Coruscant, the Battle of Scarif, and the Battle of Endor precisely because they show a lot of capital ships blasting the hell out of each other, but in the Battle of Exegol, we're mostly limited to a number of shots where smaller fighters fly into Star Destroyers, and we see hardly any cruisers, frigates, or other battleships in the fray. I find it a bit of a letdown.
• All that being said, when I brought this up to my dad he was all like "Well, good!" He didn't want to see more battle scenes, he wanted it trim. And I can't argue with that, the scene is big and long enough. Sometimes, less is more. I just wished they used the shots they had to show more battleship-on-battleship action.
• Palpatine takes a moment to unleash the mother of all Force lightning into space, zapping literally all the ships at once. This is awe-inspiring and all, but it stretches the rules of Force usage a bit far (and it's been stretched far throughout the series already). It comes off as ridiculous and over-the-top, even if it is an eye-popping scene.
• To be fair, this is an interesting beat in the story because it brings the battle back to a point of despair, which is something Rey has to resolve on her own. And she does. It's a bit of a trick to make her victory feel even more triumphant.
• The final stand against Palpatine doesn't really work for me. Part of the issue is that there's no real way to win this other than to destroy Palpatine entirely, which directly contradicts messages of previous films, where violence is rejected and heroes show the value of the moral high ground by "protecting what they love." But no, this scene boils down to Palpatine becoming all of the Sith, Rey becoming all of the Jedi, because reasons! Then they have a contest of the Force, and Rey blows back the lightning with the amazing power of holding up two lightsabers instead of one.
• Stupid thing #1: Palpatine pretty much stands there like a chump and lets himself become vaporized by his own lightning. If he realizes what's happening, can't he just stop zapping?
• Stupid thing #2: Why does Rey become empowered to do this only while holding two lightsabers, rather than just one. It's not like the sabers themselves have latent Force abilities or strength. Considering that Obi-Wan countered Dooku's lightning with one saber very non-nonchalantly, and Yoda could just absorb lightning with his bare hands, Rey with all her power should have done just fine on her own with zero sabers in hand.
• Stupid thing #3: There are, like, tens of thousands of Sith in the background, sitting in rows of stone stands like it's the Superbowl or something. Then they're all crushed by falling stones as the whole place falls apart. For one thing, I think the Sith audience is a little weird, especially since they have no active role in the events or story. Second, I find it weird that all of them are killed all at once, and it's doubly-strange because all their blood is practically on Rey's hands. I can understand her killing the Emperor (even if I don't agree with the message it sends). But to kill all these bystanders? Yeesh.
• Writing quality in general felt really off to me. Aside from the myriad of plot and character issues, I was let down by the blunt nature of all the lines. Personality and nuance seem stripped, leaving only short bursts of dry exposition to relay information. Lines like "I made Snoke," "I found the mole," and "You're a Palpatine" fall way flat. It's because of this that everything feels stilted and unmotivated. This kind of writing reveals and explains so little, and it leaves much to be desired. For once, I actually miss the weird, complex lines Lucas came up with.
• The dialogue fares better when it shows personality, as happens between Poe, Rey, and Finn. Even then, I chalk it up to the actors and their chemistry more than the script.

On the flip-side, I do appreciate these things about the film:

• As mentioned above, I like Exegol as a setting. It's one of the more interesting worlds in this trilogy. For the first time, I feel as though a horror angle is worked into the franchise, and I'm okay with that.
• I did find the background on Ochi and his lost ship pretty interesting. Exposition wedges this into the Skywalker saga in a rather blunt way, but as the catalyst for an adventure plot, it's pretty interesting.
• Babu Frik and D-O are two new characters I find absolutely adorable. D-O in particular is an interesting inclusion--this is the first time we see a droid traumatized by abuse, much like all the videos I see on Facebook about people finding traumatized dogs and showing them love. Maybe this parallel is intentional. It definitely strikes a chord.
• Of all the classic Star Wars characters, I was always a little apathetic about C-3PO. I found him downright annoying in The Empire Strikes Back, and his inclusion in the prequels felt completely unnecessary. However, I always liked the bits in Return of the Jedi when the Ewoks see him as a god, and it's the one moment in the original movies where he seems to have a purpose. When it comes to Rise of Skywalker, I was surprised and pleased to find that I liked C-3PO even more. Something about his lines and presence was charming. Above all though, I was quite intrigued and pleased with the scene where he translates Sith text--one more time, he's given a purpose (and for a protocol droid that has to translate languages, this only makes sense). Of course, it was a bittersweet moment when it seemed as though this would be his swansong.
• All that being said, I am a little let down that the film didn't have the guts to actually finish off the character or write him out. In other movies, I find it pretty sobering when a character comes out of things with a totally blank mind--it's what made Sucker Punch, Brazil, and 2003's OldBoy so gut-wrenching. Rise of Skywalker almost immediately grants C-3PO his memory back, which has the effect of rendering all previous tension and emotion moot. There is nothing sobering about his arc after all, and everybody's free to move to the next plot point. Thanks, film.
• The major action scenes are generally cool and exciting to watch. Among the highlights, I really enjoyed:
• As stupid as lightspeed skipping may seem, I do appreciate the rapid-fire way it shows us multiple worlds in one sequence (and they're all very weird).
• The desert chase with flying stormtroopers.
• The epic moment in which Rey does a backwards flips over Kylo's TIE fighter and slices its wing off. That might be the coolest thing I've seen in a long time.
• Rey and Kylo's duel in Kylo's quarters. I'm doubly impressed by how this scene uses the Force transportation ability so the characters and certain objects keep flip-flopping between locations. This was a very pleasing fight scene that looks great and played with the Force concept in interesting ways.
• In general, I was awed that the heroes had the guts to just storm a Star Destroyer to take back Chewie. No plan or anything, they just hooked themselves up with Zorri, flew up there, and started shooting up the place. It's sloppy, fast, and probably more of a video game dynamic than anything sensible. But I appreciated that they didn't just blow off Chewie's fate, or spend too much time hesitating--the sheer bravado of the characters really shine in this sequence, and it ends in a pretty cool way with Rey leaping onto the Falcon's ramp.
• I do have to admit that Poe and the gang shoot their way through the ship with hardly any challenge. And yet, they do get captured in the end, so the foolhardy way they storm onto the ship does have a dire consequence.
• Rey and Kylo's duel on the Endor wreckage. I was especially smitten by the acrobatic leaps Rey performs over the waves, and the stoic way Kylo endures each wave.
• The film's quality is generally good in terms of how it looks--cinematography, quality of costumes, sets, props, special effects, music, are all really nice to look at. I think the actors all do the best they can with the material given. There is a ton of decent talent behind the movie.

I've forgiven much in the Star Wars franchise--for years, I overlooked the Prequel Trilogy's problems and saw plenty to love and enjoy. When the Sequel Trilogy was announced, I was willing to embrace it all with an open mind, but that was a time when I had zero insight in critical story analysis, less experience in writing or storytelling, and I was still blinded by fandom. The last eight years made me re-assess my relationship with the series, and Rise of Skywalker is the breaking point for me. Not that it's a terrible film or experience per se, but it's poorly written, oddly executed, and full of unearned payoffs. There is a lot of behind-the-scenes baggage that weighs this down, but if the filmmakers had any real guts, they could have made this work out in a more satisfying way.

What's done is done though. Taken as its own slice of escapism, the film fits its mold okay, but it is a cliche-ridden plot that never really capitalizes off its potential. Watch it as an action movie experience, and it has its fair share of cool parts. Maybe just enough to make me overlook its flaws in the moment, but not enough to shake off the feelings of disappointment and disillusionment when examining the movie after the credits roll.

But at least they tried. It still could have turned out far worse. Look no further than other franchises, like the Terminator, Alien, Predator, Species, Police Academy--they all hit way deeper lows than Star Wars did. They're still making cheap, bland, and weak sequels for Dragonheart, The Scorpion King, Death Race, and Tremors for heck's sake. Rise of Skywalker is a masterpiece compared to all this schlock, and in an alternate universe, we would have likely had some equally dismal sequels instead of what we have now.

I looked at the trap, Rey.

Chances are good I'll revisit Rise of Skywalker on occasion--some viewings, maybe these issues will bother me, but on others maybe they won't. It's hard to assess this now since I've only seen it once. Time will tell how well this (and the trilogy) stands up. But even this movie has its moments of heart, charm, and spectacle--maybe just enough to make me feel like something was accomplished despite everything. Maybe that's the best we can ask for at this point.

Video Game Review: Terminator Resistance (2020)

Across five of the six Terminator movies, the events of Judgment Day and the ensuring war are merely glimpsed at. We never really had a close, in-depth look at the future war, save for Salvation and Terminator: Future Shock, a clunky relic from 1995. However, when a small Polish company called Teyon acquired the video game rights for the first two movies, they took their time to deliver a game that would immerse the gamer in the future war, in a story that neatly slides into established lore and storylines.

In Terminator: Resistance, you play a resistance soldier named Jacob Rivers. When your entire division is wiped out by the advancing terminators, you join Tech-Com and take an active role in fighting SkyNet, and eventually leading the charge against its core. Along the way, you meet and bond with civilians and scavengers--depending on your actions, they could be your friends, family, or you could brush them all off. Inevitably, your story aligns with the events of the movies, building up to the moment when SkyNet and the resistance clash over the Time Displacement Equipment--the very same thing that sends the original terminators from the movies back in time.

The game is FPS first-and-foremost, but with just enough RPG mechanics to make you feel like you can grow a little. Missions and combat will earn you experience points that unlock skills (mostly simple things like weapon usage, more inventory slots, disarming bombs, hacking, lock picking, crafting). You do have the option to sneak around most maps, and you are given a detection meter to show if a machine can spot you (although I feel like sentient machines should be a lot more savvy than how they are in the game). For for every other mission, you are thrust into the fray of futuristic combat--once you have a plasma gun in your hands, many T-800s and other machines will fall at your feet. Even though the machines are often intimidating, they rarely feel like an insurmountable threat--I found it pretty breezy to blast through most levels with the plasma gun blazing the whole way (stealth be damned, lol). It's even easier when you can hack turrets and make them shoot for you. Resources and ammo seem plentiful, and the game offers a bit of breathing room to permit some relaxed exploration and looting. As it is with some of my favorites (Far Cry, Fallout), I am continuously addicted to the combination of open-ended exploration, RPG-style leveling, and blowing machines up.

However, the game is rather linear by nature. It tunnels you through several small maps--because you play through the story both in front of and behind the Annihilation Line, you often revisit the same maps, but one version will be more ruined than the other. That, and the limited variety of enemies and items, betrays the limitations of the developers--I suspect they didn't have the time or budget to mix things up more than they did. Boss fights are underwhelming--you get to fight an Infiltrator, but it's not that much different than shooting at a regular T-800. The T-1000 is mentioned, but never faced (missed opportunity, imo). You do have to take down a Goliath, but it's an easy task when you hide behind some walls and pop rockets at its backside. Combat struck me as being rather easy, to the point where the game offers little challenge. But it is often satisfying to watch SkyNet machines explode in your face--doubly so when you're charging with fellow soldiers while the Terminator theme plays in the background.

The biggest joy I had with this game is in how well it meshes with the first two movies. Its post-Judgment-Day setting mirrors the scenes we see in the films, right down to the way spotlights shine through mist and illuminate the dreary ruins in gray and blue hues. Guns, bombs, enemies, and key characters all match up with the movies. They all make the right sounds. All the rules the movies laid down (such as having dogs identify Infiltrators) are still at play. The Tech-Com shelter looks exactly like the setting Kyle reminisces about in the first film (and I'm pretty sure the game's penultimate level is meant to be that exact moment when the place is wiped out, even though Kyle himself doesn't appear in the game).

As you go through each map, you play through a story where choices determine your relationship with other characters. As it is with Fallout, their fates are shown in the end-game cutscene (which, really, is nothing more than a slideshow of painted stills). Whether they live or die is rather arbitrary compared to the main character's arc, which does play into the time-travel angle in its own way. I found the reveals interesting and I admire that it's tied into the last level (and in turn, tied into events that enable the first two films). I wish this amount of care was put into Salvation and Genisys when they were made.

All that being said, the game could have used more polish with its writing and voice-acting. Dialogue is often weak and cheesy (although I have to admit that the voice actors show no lack of enthusiasm). The writing falls back on some common game tropes that involve more telling and less showing. I do appreciate the attention to detail concerning Terminator storylines and details--however, the game is so short that it feels like the events take a week, despite the first movie explicitly stating that the war waged for decades (and in spite of this, the appearance of the Infiltrators is rushed in the timeline--the game completely glosses over the fact that rubber-skinned models were used before the cybernetic ones were unleashed).

There are many things about the game that I wish could have been better. I was not fond of the leveling being capped, even before being able to unlock all the skills. I would have loved this game a lot more if it was a sprawling open-world map, where liberating outposts could directly impact the gameplay, but outposts in this game amount to little more than giving you bonus xp. If this game was given the Far Cry treatment, with more variance and detail, I would have loved to spend 50 or 70 hours fighting for the resistance. But this game was wrapped up in about 10 hours (with a plat nonetheless), and there's no incentive to play the game again (other than to do the same things over). Although, if this was made into a bigger game, it would have been a hoot to have a New Game+ in the form of having Rivers go back in time and literally replay history.

For Teyon, this short, straightforward shooter is probably the best they can manage, and it's quite admirable for its empowering gameplay and the attention they put into the details behind the story and environments. It's all rendered in pleasing visual and sound quality. I'm also quite smitten by the soundtrack, which meshes the classic synth themes with modern guitar riffs, and I find it exceptionally awesome. It is a fun little game--shame it's this little, but as a franchise fan I was reasonably satisfied with it. It may not say much when there's so few Terminator games out there that are really good, but this is by far the best I've seen.

7/10