Star Wars: Episode IX -- The Rise of Skywalker (J.J. Abrams, 2019)

Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver in Star Wars: Episode IX -- The Rise of Skywalker

Cast: Daisy Ridley, Oscar Isaac, John Boyega, Adam Driver, Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Anthony Daniels, Joonas Suotamo, Billy Dee Williams, Domhnall Gleeson, Richard E. Grant, Ian McDiarmid, Naomi Ackie, Keri Russell, Lupita Nyong'o, Kelly Marie Tran, Greg Grunberg, Shirley Henderson, Dominic Monaghan, Billie Lourd. Screenplay: Chris Terrio, J.J. Abrams, Derek Connolly, Colin Trevorrow. Cinematography: Dan Mindel. Production design: Rick Carter, Kevin Jenkins. Film editing: Maryann Brandon, Stefan Grube. Music: John Williams.

The saga began unwittingly in medias res in 1977, expanded in 1980 and 1983, then doubled back on itself in 1999, 2002, and 2005, then picked up where it left off earlier for episodes in 2015 and 2017. And with the cumbersome title of Star Wars: Episode IX -- The Rise of Skywalker, it comes to a stuttering halt. This, of course, disregards all the ancillary film and TV projects, not to mention books, that George Lucas's brainchild has added to the corpus over the years and seems intent on adding. It may be our greatest film epic, or at least the most influential: Would we have had, for example, the various excursions into the Marvel universe without Star Wars as a prototype? But the salient fact here is that no one is quite happy with the way the triple trilogy finally resolves itself in the latest (and supposedly final) episode -- not even those who profit financially from it, since the movie was a disappointment at the box office. The hardcore Star Wars fans point to inconsistencies, omissions, and downright contradictions to the core mythology. Those who just like action movies, or sci-fi movies, or just plain storytelling movies seem to feel a little let down by The Rise of Skywalker, whose very title doesn't even seem to follow through, since Rey assumes the family name after all of the rest of the Skywalkers have died off. I found myself a little creeped out by the postmortem use of Carrie Fisher in the film, and annoyed at the introduction of some new characters, like Naomi Ackie's Jannah and Keri Russell's Zorii, that don't seem to serve any real function in the plot. There are some suspense gimmicks, like the apparent death of Chewbacca and the memory-wipe of C3PO, that don't pay off in real narrative tension. The appearances of the "Force ghosts" of Han and Luke are a little cheesy, and the Force itself becomes a kind of narrative crutch, one that Rey can lean on when it helps advance the plot but which seems unavailable to her when she needs it. And the psychic link between Rey and Kylo Ren is a similar narratively flimsy gimmick. Still, I found myself occasionally able to let all of these real and nagging flaws go by and relax into watching some old familiar actors and characters go through their paces. John Williams's familiar music certainly helps, even if it's only to cue up memories of better Star Wars movies.

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (J.A. Bayona, 2018)

Chris Pratt in Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

Cast: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Rafe Spall, Justice Smith, Daniella Pineda, James Cromwell, Toby Jones, Ted Levine, Jeff Goldblum, BD Wong, Geraldine Chaplin, Isabella Sermon. Screenplay: Derek Connolly, Colin Trevorrow. Cinematography: Oscar Faura. Production design: Andy Nicholson. Film editing: Bernat Vilaplana. Music: Michael Giacchino.

Not quite as inane as its 2015 predecessor, this installment of the Jurassic World series -- if such there is to be, since Covid-19 seems to have put the filming of the next installment on hold -- benefits from making Bryce Dallas Howard's character less of a ditz in heels, and from eschewing the tired kids-in-jeopardy theme from the first. Still, this is one of those movies from which you know what you're going to get, and if you want that sort of thing, have at it. 

Jurassic World (Colin Trevorrow, 2015)

It doesn't take long for déjà vu (not to say ennui) to set in when you're watching this movie. If the title alone doesn't incite it, the use of John Williams's theme for Jurassic Park (Steven Spielberg, 1993) will certainly do it. (The movie's main score is by Michael Giacchino.) So what are we dealing with here: a sequel, a reboot, or a remake? And does it really matter? There is a deep cynicism underlying this movie, made manifest even in the dialogue: Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard), the theme park's operations manager, says, "We've been pre-booking tickets for months. The park needs a new attraction every few years in order to reinvigorate the public's interest. Kind of like the space program. Corporate felt genetic modification would up the wow factor." Not once does Jurassic World question the plausibility of opening a new dinosaur theme park 20 years after the disasters depicted in the original film and its 1997 and 2001 sequels. (Although 32 years have passed between the original and this sequel/reboot/remake, the new film seems to assume that the first one took place in 2003.) All that matters is the wow factor. The trouble is that the 1993 film has a bit more than just wow: It had genuine awe, not only at the film technology but in the imaginative evocation of what it would really be like to encounter living dinosaurs. It had plausible characters, embodied by Sam Neill, Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum, and Richard Attenborough. In their place, Jurassic World has a hunky motorcycle-riding velociraptor-whisperer (Chris Pratt), a slightly ditzy spouter of corporate-speak in heels (Howard), and a hissable villain who wants to militarize genetically engineered saurians (Vincent D'Onofrio). Fortunately, all three actors are more than capable of making the most of their stock characters, particularly Pratt, who seems to be emerging as the new Harrison Ford. And fortunately, everyone concerned with making the film knows how to hype up the action. Which is necessary, because whenever the film slows for something resembling thought or human behavior -- as when the two young brothers, Zach (Nick Robinson) and Gray (Ty Simpkins), are left alone to reflect on whether their parents are getting divorced -- the film stagnates. At those moments, we can only reflect on how much better the original film was at making you believe in its humans. Why, for example, does this one have two boys as its juvenile protagonists when the original had a boy and a girl? And why has Laura Dern's capable paleobotanist been replaced by Howard's MBA type? Not to mention that the women in the film, Claire and her assistant, Zara (Katie McGrath), who is entrusted with looking after the boys, and the boys' mother, Karen (Judy Greer), are depicted as women whose focus on their careers put others in danger. There is fun to be had in the movie, but only if you're willing to overlook what its subtext tells us about how things have changed, and not for the better, in 30 years.