Make ‘Star Wars’ Great Again: Part 3

Purging the Past

You know, for those who supposedly want to “let the past die,” the folks at Disney and Lucasfilm sure are digging up a lot of artifacts and repackaging them as new products, aren’t they? First, you have The Force Awakens deliberately functioning as a remake of the original movie. Next, we had Rogue One bringing back familiar imagery like the Death Star and Darth Vader. Then, there was The Last Jedi lifting a slew of scenarios and set pieces straight from both Episode V and Episode VI. After that, they gave us an origin story about Han Solo, the most popular character in the entire franchise. Now, in the wake of a rapidly waning audience, they have brought back The Clone Wars, the beloved animated series that many feel was unjustly swept aside upon Disney’s acquisition of George Lucas’s properties. I don’t need to tell you that they are banking on nostalgia. They are certainly not charting a new path as they would have us believe.

Granted, the lack of originality is hardly a problem exclusive to Star Wars, as it has plagued the entertainment industry, especially the mainstream section, for years. Call me a cynical old curmudgeon if you want, but this is primarily why I barely make the trip out to the movie theater anymore. Did I go to see any of the popular blockbuster flicks this past summer apart from Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom? No. Instead, I stayed home and rented Brawl in Cell Block 99 and Pilgrimage: two smaller, relentlessly gripping action dramas that most audiences have probably never heard of. In short, many movies that studios promote nowadays are disgustingly uninspired in their CGI-laden set pieces and recycled plot points.

I’ve included a couple examples below to illustrate. Just compare the two fight scenes and tell me I’m an old man for preferring the second one.

However, what makes Star Wars a disappointment in this landscape is that it boasts an entire universe of possibilities. Despite this, Disney and Lucasfilm continue to fall back on the same plot threads with only minor changes made to give the illusion of narrative innovation. Come to think of it, you don’t even have to look as deep as the narrative to spot the focus group filmmaking. Just look back at the iconography. All four of the films made after the Disney acquisition have featured a group of ragtag rebels or outlaws getting into numerous laser battles with Stormtroopers and quirky aliens in a galaxy of oppression under an imperialistic regime.

The studio executives don’t want to take the risk of trying anything different, and the filmmakers that they hire either have to get with that program or get kicked to the curb. The suits don’t want to place their faith in the unfamiliar when their money is on the line, afraid that their additions to the franchise will not interest audiences. Considering their track record so far, I can’t say that such fear is unfounded.

Do you know why everyone remembers the Darth Vader segments from Rogue One? Your theories may vary, but I think it’s because his handful of scenes offered something familiar and enticing while the rest of the characters were underdeveloped and as dull as a rock. Seeing everyone’s favorite cyber-Sith slaughter about twenty unfortunate rebels may have been blatantly pandering, but at least it was more stimulating that watching a pack of paper-thin tools trudging through a mission that we already know they’ll accomplish. Suffice it to say, it was difficult to care about these rogues’ eventual sacrifice when all of them were frustratingly underwritten and self-serious to the point of absolute apathy. I maintain that this desperate mission to retrieve the Death Star plans would have been far more impactful if it had played out in Star Wars Rebels, as the heroes in that show were infinitely more engaging than the ones in Rogue One. More on them later.

While we’re on the topic of familiar faces, don’t even get me started on that film’s digital recreation of Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin. Now, let me be clear: I love performance capture and have been an avid proponent of its usage since the beginning. It’s a great method of taking an actor’s subtle nuances and projecting an organic performance onto a larger-than-life creature, creating a tangible and emotionally accessible character in what could have easily been a mindless monster. However, utilizing it to bring back a long-dead performer raises a slew of moral and ethical questions that I’m sure many people would rather avoid.

Technically, this is not the first time Tarkin has returned to the screen. Through makeup and prosthetics, he made a non-speaking cameo at the end of Revenge of the Sith, and he’s also periodically popped up in some of the animated shows since then.  His appearance in Rogue One, though, is different. We are meant to believe that we’re watching a living, breathing, photorealistic recreation of Tarkin, looking exactly as he did in 1977. Needless to say, it stumbles straight into the uncanny valley. Whenever this thing was onscreen, I couldn’t stop staring in shock and disgust because it just looks unnatural.

Admittedly, some of that may be due to the fact that I’ve seen numerous pieces of Peter Cushing’s work outside of Star Wars. Perhaps exposing myself to so many of his films has made my brain better equipped to detect some of the subtleties that he generally put into a performance. “That voice sounds a bit too gravelly.” “Those head movements and facial expressions don’t seem right.” “I don’t think that’s how he would have delivered that line.” These were a few of the thoughts going through my head as I watched this Tarkin impersonation, which is the perfect word for it. The whole time, I felt like I was watching someone do a Peter Cushing impression while wearing a mask of his face. The rubbery texture and glassy eyes only cemented the creep factor.

What makes all of this even worse is that Tarkin did not even have to be in the movie. The writers could have easily given his scenes to Vader with little to no change in the story. So, why throw him in? Like with many of their decisions, the filmmakers wanted more fan service for the sake of the bottom line. That’s the only conclusion that I can come up with. Why else would they also go through the trouble of including a CG Leia at the end?

This would additionally explain the strategy of bringing back and hyping up the original trilogy’s stars in an effort to sell audiences on the prospect of Episodes VII, VIII, and IX. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with having the old guard return to pass the torch. It can be an effective way of injecting a fresh dynamic into the franchise and allowing it to continue with a renewed sense of energy, but we actually have to care about the new torchbearers.

When you stop and think about it, why are Rey and Finn even here? What do they want and why do they want it? Well, Finn wants to get away from the First Order because…I guess he was the only Stormtrooper to grow a conscience. It’s not really made clear why his response to combat differs from his fellow troops, but his cowardice at least provides something for him to overcome. The problem is that he mainly goes into danger to impress and protect Rey. The focus is not on bettering himself because of some deep-seated dissatisfaction. Rather, it’s primarily because he likes a girl. When they’re separated, he basically spends the entire time being shuffled along and told what to do by more courageous characters.

Then, we have Rey, who we’re told wants to get back to her scrapyard planet in the hope that her parents will come back, but none of her actions support this. She gets caught up in the Resistance’s fight for seemingly no reason. We’re sometimes told that she is searching for a father figure in Han Solo and later Luke Skywalker, but this is never fleshed out. According to actress Daisy Ridley, most of her actions stem from simply wanting to do the right thing. Sorry, but that’s not enough. Who instilled such values into her? How does she even know what the right thing is when she’s had to survive on a planet full of scavengers? Even a character as virtuous as Superman had to develop his moral compass through the humble guidance of his adoptive parents.

The shallowness of these motivations leaves us with little option but to fall back on the older characters. At least Han and Leia have clear and understandable goals; they want to find a lost friend/brother and possibly regain the love of their estranged son. What could be purer and more universally relatable than the desire for family?

I’m reminded of a film that handled this multi-generational type of story much better: The Mask of Zorro. In this tale, we’re presented with two versions of the titular swashbuckling hero for the price of one. The original, Diego de la Vega, is robbed of everything at the beginning. Following the death of his wife and theft of his infant daughter by his mortal enemy, Don Rafael, he is imprisoned for twenty years. Once he finally escapes, Diego comes across a young thief named Alejandro, who himself wants revenge for the death of his brother at the hands of Rafael’s sadistic cohort. Diego then trains Alejandro to follow in his footsteps as the next Zorro in the hope that both of them will find peace with the defeat of their respective enemies.

As you can see, both protagonists have very clear, understandable motivations for embarking on their journey: vengeance for their lost loved ones. It makes sense for them to team up since their goals lead them to the same place of retribution. As the story progresses, they help each other grow in unexpected ways, with their quest slowly changing from one of hatred to one of redemption for themselves and justice for the downtrodden. Each character has a compelling stake in the conflict and plays an equal role in driving the plot, with both going through their own evolutions along the way. We are not sitting there and impatiently waiting for Diego to take back the spotlight from the young buck, as it is not only his story.

Such is not the case with Star Wars, which hinges almost entirely on events set in motion by the original trilogy’s protagonists. In The Force Awakens, the main MacGuffin is a map to Luke Skywalker. Right there, by having everyone looking for him, the writers are building up the grand return of the franchise’s original hero. Then, you have Han Solo showing up toward the end of the first act and Leia coming in at the end of the second. The overarching premise even feels like a continuation of the characters’ exploits following Return of the Jedi. As such, all signs are telling us that these senior citizens should be the primary protagonists instead, but we keep being told that we should pay attention to these random newcomers, even as the older and more interesting heroes are consistently in plain sight off to the side. Having them pop up at periodic intervals like this and essentially take the initiative in place of Rey and Finn causes them to overshadow the younger protagonists. I remind you that these are supposed to be the new faces of the franchise going forward.

Here’s an idea. Why don’t you let the new players breathe, come into their own, and establish their own stories before bringing back the oldies? If the filmmakers fail to do this, then audiences will likely look at the familiar characters first and not really care about the new blood. In this case, it also calls attention to how subpar the writing is for the younger stars. In hindsight, this is probably why the creators have been systematically killing the series veterans. It’s as if they used the familiar heroes mainly to rope people in and vouch for the new players. Once this is accomplished, they can theoretically keep the young stars in the spotlight while casting aside the more experienced ones.

If you want an example of how to shift focus to a new cast and do it well, I would recommend the shoot-em-up action show, Strike Back. After Season 1 star Richard Armitage left to film The Hobbit, the show was essentially reinvented for the next four seasons with Philip Winchester and Sullivan Stapleton as the new leads. Using their intense charisma, hilarious and heartfelt chemistry, and unwavering commitment to the over-the-top set pieces, they carried the ridiculously entertaining series until its end in 2015.

When the inevitable revival came a few years later, the old protagonists were not used as a selling point in the advertising. As far as we knew for certain, the new show would not feature them at all, instead focusing on a group of new characters without distraction. Sure enough, we spent most of Season 6 getting to know the new team, enabling the characters to grow and the actors to build a believable chemistry. When the writers finally brought back Winchester and Stapleton toward the finale, it felt earned and didn’t undermine the development of the newbies. What’s more is that their characters were respected. They were still every bit as fun as before, but, at the same time, their appearances didn’t cheapen their prior growth or where they ended up at the end of the previous season.

The heroes of Star Wars, on the other hand, are portrayed as failures, which is a far cry from where they were at the end of Return of the Jedi. Luke was a full-fledged Jedi Knight; Han and Leia had finally come to terms with how they felt about each other; and the galaxy was returned to an era of peace after years of tyranny and hardship. In the new trilogy, Luke has forsaken his Jedi ways and fled the fight; Han is a deadbeat divorcee dad who’s regressed from a rebel general to an incompetent smuggler who lost the Millennium Falcon; Leia is a mellow old crone who commands her troops with a weak hand and little in the way of military strategy; and the galaxy is once again under the thumb of the Empire, just with a different name.

Not only were these characters robbed of the happy ending that they fought so hard for, but they don’t come across as having grown in any meaningful way. Rather, it feels like they’ve gone backwards in their development. To add further insult, the deaths that we’ve seen were so unceremonious and contrived that I’m not the least bit surprised at fans’ rampant anger and disappointment. The fact is that people don’t like it when their childhood heroes are disrespected or discarded.

You can be sure that this anger extends well beyond the films, also encompassing the Expanded Universe. What is that? Basically, it refers to the wealth of books, television shows, comics, and video games released to satisfy fans’ continuing love for the franchise. Simply put, they are the stories that take place outside of the films, covering virtually every period in the Star Wars timeline. These range from thousands of years in the past to the far future with Luke Skywalker’s descendants.

However, after Disney’s acquisition of Lucasfilm, the Expanded Universe was cast aside and labelled as non-canon, bearing the new title of Legends. The only works that would stand as part of the official timeline were the movies, The Clone Wars (the 2008 TV series), Star Wars Rebels, and any new material released under the Disney name. Naturally, this attracted the ire of many longtime followers of the brand, who felt that the quality products released up to that point were being thrown away in lieu of future inferior cash-grabs. Considering how the two most recent Star Wars: Battlefront titles have fared with gamers, I can’t say that those fears were entirely unfounded.

If you’re wondering what my take on it was on the time, I was mostly indifferent to the whole affair. True, I’d enjoyed several of the books and games, such as the Jedi Apprentice series, the PSP and PS3 versions of The Force Unleashed, a few of R. A. Salvatore’s novels, and the original Star Wars: Battlefront series (no EA). However, I was not emotionally distraught in the least when the higher-ups at Disney tried to blink these titles out of existence, and that can really be boiled down to two reasons. First, these books and games still exist in spite of not being considered canonical. They are still readily available to me, so I can still indulge in them whenever I please. Second, some of the plot threads and character arcs already contradicted each other. To name just one example, I saw the character of Asajj Ventress die in two different mediums, and I didn’t really care. Even back then, my fixation on strict continuity had faded significantly.

Contrary to what you may have ascertained, I care much more about self-contained greatness than about how well one story connects to others. If a book, movie, TV show, or video game is able to pull me in and keep me engrossed in what it is trying to do on its own, then I can easily forgive a few errors or uncertainties in how it’s stitched together with the rest of the series. Essentially, I’ve reached a point in my life where I tend to place less and less value on strict adherence to continuity. Just provide me with a quality product that works on its own merits and offers something unique without having to lean on other entries for support.

It’s one of the reasons that I’m so fond of the X-Men franchise, as many of those films and television shows excel in what they do without intrusively weaving a convoluted web or continuity. X2 is an operatic ensemble about relinquishing old vendettas and combating extremist intolerance in a changing world. X-Men: Days of Future Past is a Terminator-esque time travel story about redemption for past mistakes paving the way for a better future. Deadpool is a raunchy action comedy that revels in the self-referential and the tasteless. Legion is a ‘70s-style psychedelic head trip that constantly plays with wickedly weird ideas like the nature of insanity and what is or isn’t real. The Gifted is a tensely compelling fugitive drama that tackles the supposed refuse of society and is grounded by a family dynamic reminiscent of Swiss Family Robinson. Logan is a neo-western about coping with mortality, reflecting on the ups and downs of one’s life, and deciding what really matters in the long run, especially after passing on. These works are emotionally and psychologically engaging on their own terms, and I could not care less about how they all fit together.

First and foremost, I judge a piece of art by looking at its own strengths and weaknesses, not how well it advertises something else. This is partially why I gave The Force Awakens a pass at first, as I felt that it worked as the sort of high-energy, turn-your-brain-off popcorn flick that it mostly aspired to be. Likewise, I could have easily forgiven The Last Jedi for its world-building shortcomings if it had worked as a film. That being said, though it’s never a priority in my own entertainment experience, I can at least acknowledge when creators are able to successfully convince us that their tale exists as part of a larger universe. The fact is that a whole lot of people really care about the Star Wars lore and the history of its fictional galaxy.

I imagine that the anger and betrayal that many of them are currently experiencing is not unlike what legions of Star Trek fans felt after the 2009 film, which effectively reset the entire franchise to square one. However, I will at least vouch for the latter series on the grounds of said reset not being quite as drastic. Admittedly, I’m not nearly as versed in the Trek history as many others, but just hear me out. The way I see it, the original timeline (including the 1966 TV show, the Next Generation series, the books, etc.) still exists; its events still took place in the canon. The aged Ambassador Spock simply got sucked into a black hole and emerged in the past, inadvertently creating a new timeline.

In essence, these two timelines are two separate entities, two versions of the continuity, with the new reality being named the “Kelvin timeline” after the ship that James Kirk’s father captained in his final hours. Granted, you could make the argument that this is not how time travel had been portrayed in the franchise up to that point, but as an attempt to jumpstart a franchise and steer the ship in a new direction, it was still more respectful than what was done to Star Wars. Of course, it helps that all three of the Kelvin films thus far (2009’s Star Trek, Star Trek Into Darkness, & Star Trek Beyond) are better acted, more thematically intriguing, more emotionally engaging, and generally of higher quality than the newer Star Wars flicks.

As accomplished as these movies are though, even they sometimes renege on their promise of a fresh start and resort to recycling past ideas. The second entry, for example, took to lifting plot threads and even entire scenes from the original series episode “Space Seed” and, more notably, the classic Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. In their defense, the writers were able to frame Khan’s military affiliation with Starfleet as a direct response to the events of the preceding film, so there was at least that angle to mix things up. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, it was impossible to disguise the efforts at pandering to longtime Trekkies.

Does that sound somewhat similar to complaints levied against the Star Wars films as of late? We’ve had two episodic entries that are essentially abridged versions of the original trilogy with more bombast, and we’ve also seen two spin-off movies centering on characters and events that we already know the outcomes of. It’s as if the studios wanted the hype and, by extension, the money of new chapters in the franchise without actually innovating or adding anything significantly different, and it’s not just the films that have been reused.

It’s seems one reason that the executives wanted the Expanded Universe gone was to prevent fans from calling out redundancies in the timeline. The recently dubbed Legends feature the formation of a New Republic as well as Luke training a new batch of Jedi. Han and Leia also have a child who turns to the Dark Side, the difference being that they have two more who remain devoted to the Light. Speaking of which, I know I’m far from the first to point out that Kylo Ren’s design is almost a direct copy of Darth Revan from Knights of the Old Republic. Did they really think that fans weren’t going to notice lifting a villain’s look from one of the most beloved Star Wars games ever made?

While they’re at it, why not remind players of one of the most reviled? In a rather bizarre callback during Solo: A Star Wars Story, love interest Qi’ra mentions being well-versed in the combat style known as Teräs Käsi. Although technically originating from another source, fans often associate this term with the 1997 fighting game, Star Wars: Masters of Teräs Käsi, a PlayStation title notorious for its horribly clunky and frustrating mechanics.

Then again, there are many more noticeable elements dug up for the aforementioned spin-off. Much like in the Expanded Universe, young Han spends his early days in service to the Empire. From there, most of the other narrative beats consist of encounters and escapades referenced in passing during the original trilogy, resulting in nearly all significant events in the hero’s life occurring within the span of a few days. Why make a Han Solo origin story that audiences will be able to predict every step of the way? This was the chance to really add something interesting to the infamous rogue and lend more weight to some of his scenes in earlier films, but his character instead feels cheapened by what amounts to a hollow tale with nary a novel idea on display.

Even the TV shows are guilty of recycling such supplementary concepts, as The Clone Wars and Rebels have made ample use of Expanded Universe material for their episodic adventures. Numerous storylines have been devoted to the history and clans of Mandalore, a planet of warriors whose armor was used by bounty hunter Jango Fett and his son, Boba. We’ve also witnessed several encounters with the Nightsisters, an order of witches wielding black magic to accomplish all manner of unholy feats. Their presence is used to facilitate the return of Darth Maul, the Sith Lord sliced in half by Obi-Wan Kenobi in The Phantom Menace. Then, of course, we have the introduction of Grand Admiral Thrawn, arguably the most notorious villain in the saga outside of the films.

All of these ideas originated in the Expanded Universe before they were ever implemented into the aforementioned shows. In their defense, however, the creators of said shows have managed paint Thrawn as a truly unforgettable antagonist. Seeing him develop a genuine appreciation and understanding of the Rebels crew over the course of two seasons, knowledge that he mercilessly uses against them at integral points, makes him an adversary infinitely more intriguing and intimidating than any of the baddies in the recent movies. It helps that genuine effort was shown in weaving him organically into the time period. Instead of battling the original trilogy’s heroes like before, he’s hunting down the crew of the Ghost and deciphering the location of the rebel base, all the while outsmarting both his enemies and allies. Not to mention, when the rest of the Empire begins fawning over the Death Star, he’s heading up a much more practical military innovation in the TIE Defender (another EU concept).

Connecting this character and this ship in the new continuity helps the audience see each of them in a new light. They may be carryovers from the old canon, but the creators found a way to do something new with them through seemingly simple means. Even better, this is not the first time that these writers have applied this type of fresh spin to familiar ideas. Perhaps no character better illustrates that than Asajj Ventress. Originating as a piece of concept art for Attack of the Clones, this Sith warrior made her first real appearance in Genndy Tartakovsky’s Clone Wars micro-series, ultimately serving as little more than a combatant for Anakin Skywalker.

After kicking around the comics and video games for a few years, the character was brought back for 2008’s The Clone Wars (big difference, I know), where she became one of the most tragic and engrossing characters in the series. Born into the Nightsisters, she was forced into slavery before being rescued and trained by a kindly Jedi Knight. Years later, when her master was killed, she was consumed with rage and caught the attention of Sith Lord Count Dooku. Sensing her potential, he took her under his wing and appointed her as his Dark Side assassin. After several scuffles with the Jedi, she was betrayed and left for dead on orders from Palpatine. Reuniting with the Nightsisters, Ventress sought revenge against her Sith teacher, causing him, in turn, to slaughter her entire clan in retaliation. It was at this point that she struck out on her own as a bounty hunter, reluctant to form any connection after experiencing so much loss and betrayal.

Watching this former villainess get steadily more fleshed out as she desperately searches for some sense of identity made for some of the most compelling episodes of the show. The depth and pathos that the writers gave her, along with the impassioned performance by Nika Futterman, made this version of Ventress a far cry from the monosyllabic hitwoman of the original show. As such, her inclusion is perfectly justified, much in the same way as an improved remake of an old product would be.

The most respected remakes are the ones that portray the original’s story and characters in a novel way, maybe even improving on the property by adding to it. The team behind the Star Wars TV shows come up with plenty of such additions, not just to change the old ideas, but also to stand as significant pieces of lore in their own right. One of the more trippy examples came in The Clone Wars when our heroes come across an abstract and ever-changing planet ruled by physical embodiments of the Light Side, Dark Side, and Balance of the Force.

Said balance was also exemplified in Rebels by the Bendu, an ancient rock creature that claimed to be the middle ground between the Light and the Dark. Though he asserted his neutrality, this enigmatic entity ultimately helped Kanan reaffirm his connection to the Force after the Jedi Knight was blinded by Darth Maul. Even more abstract were the gigantic, ethereal wolves and other mystical animals making their presence known to protagonist Ezra Bridger, who discovered that all of them had their own unique ties to the Force. Finally, introduced late in the game were the time portals, mystic gateways that play on the concept of the Force binding everyone and everything together.

It’s safe to say that many of these ideas are fairly…out there. We had never seen the Force function quite like this before, and venturing too far in such random directions could have easily alienated audiences by not being recognizable as part of the same franchise. Fortunately, these additions work because the writers were able to weave them in such a way that they feel like a natural extension of the established lore, challenging the characters in new and exciting ways. They enhance the mythology rather than cheapen it.

On top of building on the Force, the writers also brought in several new heroes and villains to spice things up. Easily one of the most entertaining is Cad Bane, a galactic gunslinger inspired by Western star Lee Van Cleef. Don’t let his laid-back attitude fool you. This is someone who truly appreciates the art of bounty hunting, priding himself on always getting the job done. Quick on the draw, armed with an assortment of weapons, and always wearing a glorious hat, he’s ready and willing to go up against even the Jedi if it pays well.

He has that in common with another colorful criminal: Hondo Ohnaka, a cheerful, opportunistic, and narcissistic pirate always looking to make a quick buck through mischievous means. He is so immersed in the pirate way of life that he fully expects betrayal at every turn. What’s more is that he welcomes it. Whenever one of his crew members or allies stabs him in the back or leaves him in a precarious situation, he laughs it off, showing proud amusement at the fact that he’s introduced yet another person to the good, selfish life.

Of course, this often puts him at odds with more honorable parties like the crew of the Ghost. These ragtag fighters serve as the protagonists of Star Wars Rebels, helping to unite the small pockets of resistance into one active rebellion against the oppressive Empire. Leading the team is the unwaveringly determined Hera, an ace pilot who has been shaped by conflict, witnessing firsthand the chaos of the Clone Wars and the mercilessness of the Empire. This naturally draws her to Kanan, a Jedi survivor who’s still relatively inexperienced due to his master being killed during Order 66. His limited knowledge and years of running have caused him to doubt himself, which is where his apprentice comes in. In accepting Kanan as his teacher and joining the rebel cause, young street thief Ezra learns to value something larger than himself and to let go of those he can’t save. Kanan also emerges better from this experience, reclaiming a sense of inner balance and gaining newfound wisdom in the process. Another individual coming to terms with past mistakes is graffiti artist and demolitions expert Sabine, whose mystique and tongue-in-cheek attitude are used to hide a deep shame. A Mandalorian by birth, she is in self-imposed exile from her clan after seeing the destruction that her weapon designs reap in the hands of the Empire. In many ways, her regret is similar to that of the short-tempered and cynical Zeb. One of the last of his kind and former Honor Guard to his king, he feels responsible for the destruction of his people due to being unable to protect them. As such, he wants to forget his past entirely so as not to open up old wounds.

These characters are not the heroes that one would think of when picturing the saviors of the galaxy. In fact, they’re little more than a pack of misfits, largely forged by failure. This makes them interesting enough as flawed fighters seeking redemption, but it’s the way they function as a family unit that makes them so endearing. Each of them has a radically different backstory from the others, bringing with it numerous strengths and weaknesses. However, through their interactions and adventures, they overcome their respective shortcomings and grow into better people.

As engaging as they are, the character who has seen the greatest change, both onscreen and off, is Ahsoka Tano. Introduced at the start of the The Clone Wars series as the apprentice to Anakin Skywalker, she made a poor first impression to say the least. Her sassy and entitled attitude made her a grating annoyance in a show that was already suffering from first-season growing pains.

However, something strange soon happened. Seeming to parallel the increasing maturity of the writing, Ahsoka gradually grew more tolerable as the series went on. Over the course of five seasons, she progressed from bratty teenager to loyal student to trusted comrade. Being under the tutelage of Skywalker, she obviously picks up some of his brash attitude and reckless tendencies, but she also absorbs lessons of patience and perspective from numerous other Jedi. When she and Anakin are together, it’s abundantly clear that their experiences have made them eerily alike yet vastly different at the same time. By the later seasons, she had grown into one of the show’s most endearing heroes, which made it all the more unfortunate when she decided walk away from the Jedi. Enriching the drama even more is the fact that her journey also told us more about Anakin. As his brotherly attachment to her strengthened, he went to increasingly extreme lengths to save her whenever she was in danger. In the midst of this, he was disgusted that the other Jedi advised against such action or attachment. In fact, Ahsoka’s disillusionment with the Order contributed greatly to Skywalker’s increasing distrust of them, and we all know where that led.

Their journey felt even more complete when they brought her back in Star Wars Rebels. When Ahsoka discovers the identity of Darth Vader, she’s overcome with shock and guilt. She views Anakin’s fall as being as much her failure as his. If she had been there, then maybe she could have saved him from turning. Ultimately, her journey is about learning to accept what happened and doing the best she can in the here and now. This takes what could have been a simple pandering appearance by the franchise’s most popular villain and creates a dynamic storyline that’s as investing as it is poignant.

Not to mention, it demonstrated just how gripping Ahsoka had grown as a heroine over nearly a decade of development. The wise, worldly, empathetic guiding figure we saw was a far cry from the headstrong neophyte that we had initially cringed at. The strength and maturity that she showed when confronting Vader, the object of her guilt, was admirable and truly satisfying to those who had followed her through numerous other adventures. Her journey had come full circle in an emotionally explosive battle that ranks among the best Star Wars moments in recent memory. What I’m trying to say is this: that’s how you add to a series!