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.

Avatar (James Cameron, 2009)

Sigourney Weaver in Avatar

Jake Sully: Sam Worthington
Neytiri: Zoe Saldana
Dr. Grace Augustine: Sigourney Weaver
Col. Miles Quaritch: Stephen Lang
Trudy Chacón: Michelle Rodriguez
Parker Selfridge: Giovanni Ribisi
Norm Spellman: Joel David Moore
Moat: CCH Pounder
Eytukan: Wes Studi
Dr. Max Patel: Dileep Rao

Director: James Cameron
Screenplay: James Cameron
Cinematography: Mauro Fiore
Production design: Rick Carter, Martin Stromberg
Film editing: James Cameron, John Refoua, Stephen E. Rivkin
Music: James Horner

When it first appeared, James Cameron's Avatar was as much an event as a movie. People flocked to see its groundbreaking 3D and motion-capture CGI effects and to marvel at its colorful creation of a distant world. Even most of the critics raved, caught off-guard yet again by Cameron's expensive audacity, as they had been with Titanic in 1997. But as with Titanic, the passing of time has taken some of the glamour off of the film. Cameron had certainly excelled his contemporaries as a technological innovator, but 3D is beginning to become passé (as it did in its first insurgence in the 1950s) and motion-capture has become a standard technique. So it's possible to concentrate on Avatar as movie, and thus to find it wanting. For one thing, it's shamelessly derivative. The central plot, of a soldier "going native," is that of Kevin Costner's Dances With Wolves (1990). The Na'vi belief in the mystical unity of all things is identical to the Force from the Star Wars movies. And the gung-ho Marines and villainous representatives of the military-industrial complex are borrowed by Cameron from his own Aliens (1986). Even the Na'vi, with their elongated torsos, big eyes, flat noses, and long round tails, remind me oddly of the Pink Panther. Except blue. The characters are stock: Sigourney Weaver is again playing the tough, adversary whom the exploitative bad guys underestimate. Sam Worthington's Jake Sully is the white man savior of the native peoples. And Stephen Lang's bull-headed Col. Quaritch is the hissable villain with no apparent redeeming qualities. Cameron even calls the material being sought by the earthlings in the movie "unobtanium," a variant spelling of the impossible substance that has been called "unobtainium" by engineers since the 1950s. The Marvel Studios screenwriters at least have the wit to call their minerals "adamantium"  and "vibranium." But maybe that's quibbling: Avatar remains an influential and extremely watchable movie, even if it's predictable and overlong -- cuts of the film range from 162 to 178 minutes.

Lincoln (Steven Spielberg, 2012)

Sally Field and Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln: Daniel Day-Lewis
Mary Todd Lincoln: Sally Field
William Seward: David Strathairn
Robert Lincoln: Joseph Gordon-Levitt
W.N. Bilbo: James Spader
Preston Blair: Hal Holbrook
Thaddeus Stevens: Tommy Lee Jones
Robert Latham: John Hawkes
Alexander Stephens: Jackie Earle Haley
Edwin Stanton: Bruce McGill
Richard Schell: Tim Blake Nelson
John Hay: Joseph Cross
Ulysses S. Grant: Jared Harris
Fernando Wood: Lee Pace
George Pendleton: Peter McRobbie
Elizabeth Keckley: Gloria Reuben
George Yeaman: Michael Stuhlbarg
Clay Hoggins: Walton Goggins
Corporal Ira Clark: David Oyelowo
First White Soldier: Lukas Haas
Second White Soldier: Dane DeHaan
Samuel Beckwith: Adam Driver
Lydia Smith: S. Epatha Merkerson

Director: Steven Spielberg
Screenplay: Tony Kushner
Based on a book by Doris Kearns Goodwin
Cinematography: Janusz Kaminski
Production design: Rick Carter
Film editing: Michael Kahn
Music: John Williams

The all-star patriotic historical pageant celebrating American democracy had long been a featured genre of Hollywood films until the disillusionments of Vietnam and Watergate put it pretty much out of favor. But during the brief resurgence of liberal optimism after the election of Barack Obama, Steven Spielberg decided to bring it out of mothballs with a film about Abraham Lincoln's struggles to pass the 13th amendment, banning slavery in the United States. He initially planned to star Liam Neeson in the title role, but when Neeson decided he was too old for the part, the choice fell on Daniel Day-Lewis, the most chameleonic of actors. Lincoln has been played on screen by actors as varied as Walter Huston, Henry Fonda, and Raymond Massey, but Day-Lewis covered himself with glory and encumbered himself with a third Oscar in the role. It is in fact a superb performance, emphasizing the humanity of the man with depictions of his marital problems, his earthy sense of humor (no previous movie Lincoln was ever heard to utter the word "shit"), and above all his willingness to play down-and-dirty politics. The bulk of the drama is in the maneuverings to get a two-thirds majority in the House of Representatives to ratify the amendment, which has substantial opposition even within the president's own party, the Republicans. This means maneuvering some of the holdouts with promises of government jobs and patronage, a task that falls to a team of lobbyists led by W.N. Bilbo, played beautifully by James Spader. It also involves persuading the most volatile of abolitionists, Thaddeus Stevens, to utter compromising language on the floor of the House, in which he asserts that all men are equal before the law, but not necessarily equal "in all things," creating a fiery, funny scene for Tommy Lee Jones as Stevens. Lincoln is also forced to conceal that he is engaged in peace negotiations with the Confederates, fearing that this would lead to postponement of the vote on the amendment. Tony Kushner's screenplay is more cerebral than most, focusing on points of law and political maneuverings, which is why some reviewers and audiences were not fully enthusiastic about it. Though it was nominated for 12 Oscars, it won only two, for Day-Lewis and for production design, losing best picture to Argo (Ben Affleck) and best director to Ang Lee for Life of Pi. Both losses, I think, are inexcusable, as was Sally Field's loss as the fragile Mary Todd Lincoln to Anne Hathaway's lachrymose Fantine in Les Misérables (Tom Hooper). I suspect Lincoln will grow in esteem over the years, thanks to its many finely detailed performances, the superb re-creation of a period in its sets and costumes, and a general lack of cinematic clichés: John Williams even manages to compose a score without quoting from "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," "The Star-Spangled Banner," or any number of other sure-fire, heart-tugging patriotic melodies.