Another Star Wars project has been announced, a movie to be directed by the Pakistani-Canadian filmmaker Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy and focused on sequel trilogy protagonist Rey (Daisy Ridley). With it comes another round of apoplectic rage from the usual suspects.
Some took issue with her statement that it was “about time” a woman shaped a Star Wars movie, considering the original film was edited (and arguably saved) by George Lucas’ then-wife Marcia. Others dug up comments Obaid-Chinoy made about aiming to “make men uncomfortable” with her documentaries about gender inequality and interpreted them in the worst possible faith. The “anti-woke” brigade did their usual routine, bleating like panicked goats about feminism and Kathleen Kennedy. The response was as predictable as it is tiresome.
But let’s set aside the substance of their argument, such as it is. Let’s even set aside the fact that the film these people are so up in arms about is no more likely to materialize than Taika Waititi’s Star Wars movie, or Patty Jenkins’, or Kevin Feige’s. The backlash that greeted Obaid-Chinoy’s fairly anodyne remark is just a small part of a greater dilemma the Star Wars franchise is faced with, one which the powers that be seem no closer to resolving. In brief: What are we even doing here?
It has been almost a decade since The Force Awakens brought Star Wars back to the big screen, dominating the box office and reaffirming the franchise’s status as a pop culture juggernaut after years of prequel trilogy memes and The Big Bang Theory jokes. (It also kicked off the current blockbuster era of endless nostalgia-baiting legacy sequels, but that’s another kettle of fish.) Three years later came the orthodoxy-busting The Last Jedi, whose warm critical reception was overshadowed by a vitriolic backlash that, along with the roughly concurrent Captain Marvel discourse, shaped the ecosystem of “anti-woke” commentary that clogs YouTube to this day.
The sequel trilogy reached a dud of a conclusion in 2019 with The Rise of Skywalker, which walked back many of The Last Jedi’s most provocative changes in ways that exasperated and infuriated pretty much everyone. (The words “somehow, Palpatine returned” spring immediately, horribly to mind.)
In that context, expanding upon the sequel trilogy is as advisable as a swan dive into the maw of a Sarlacc. Anyone foolhardy enough to try would have to corral a story written by committee and get audiences re-invested in characters whose arcs have already been completed (and who were, even at the height of their popularity, never as beloved as the heroes of the original trilogy). Then they’d have to find a way to please two diametrically opposed halves of one fan base, all while navigating a culture war minefield. Even a brilliant director with an uncompromised creative vision would struggle with that kind of baggage, and if The Rise of Skywalker proved anything, it’s that Lucasfilm is all too willing to compromise.
So what does the future of Star Wars look like? If the TV shows are any indication, the answer seems to be “fanservice as far as the eye can see.” Under the stewardship of executive producers and Star Wars superfans Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni, most of the shows have become inundated with what have been derisively called “Glup Shitto” cameos: that is, the appearance of various characters from the expanded universe which delight the Star Wars faithful and leave everyone else cold. While a quick Wookieepedia dive can help bring a viewer up to speed, it can’t make them form an emotional attachment to the material, especially when so much of it is blandly written and indifferently staged. If you didn’t go into The Book of Boba Fett deeply invested in the many characters who are not Boba Fett, the show doesn’t do much to make you care.
There are, of course, exceptions. The first season of The Mandalorian remains excellent, an atmospheric, aesthetically marvelous space Western that benefited from a relatively tight focus on the adventures of Din Djarin and Grogu/Baby Yoda. And Andor, a gripping, emotionally mature tale of anti-fascist resistance, may be the best Star Wars property since the original trilogy. (Tellingly, it was created by neither Favreau nor Filoni, but by noted non-superfan Tony Gilroy.) But alas: The Mandalorian lost its focus and turned into The Baby Yoda Variety Hour, reaching a nadir with that now-infamous Jack Black and Lizzo scene. And while Andor has been renewed for a second season, the show released immediately after it was Ahsoka, a fanservice-laden continuation of the animated Clone Wars series that suggested Andor would remain an anomaly.
The current state of affairs is not sustainable. Even if the close-to-a-dozen Star Wars films in various stages of development hell all come to fruition, what can they achieve that won’t be compromised by corporate indecision and unhinged backlash? What else can be done with the property besides exploring increasingly granular pieces of lore? Why pump out five seasons of live-action television in two years if they’re (mostly) just going to feel like Dave Filoni smashing action figures together? What purpose does any of this serve, apart from printing money for Disney?
The question of whether we “need more Star Wars” is a little silly on its face. After all, we’re not talking about insulin: Star Wars is an entertainment franchise, and inherently exists for its own sake. Equally silly is the question of whether we “want more Star Wars,” because of course we do. There has been almost infinite demand for “more Star Wars” since the day that janky, pulpy beauty we call A New Hope was released in 1977. Perhaps the question we should ask, then, is: “What would it take to get us as excited about Star Wars as we were in 2014, when we were counting down the days to The Force Awakens?”
Maybe it’s impossible to get back there. But if we do, it’s because the franchise was allowed to take a break from tentpole releases and go back to being an object of cultish devotion. The faithful would be able to enjoy the expanded universe to their heart’s content, just as they did in the almost twenty years between Return of the Jedi and The Phantom Menace. The rest of us can find other properties to enjoy (perhaps even original ones) and get the chance to miss Star Wars again.