At the Corner of Anger and Ignorance

Tragedy occurs at the intersection of Anger and Ignorance. These streets aren’t on any map, and those who find themselves there are already lost. But, start down either one, and the other can be found easily enough.

            Anger is a two-way street. Ignorance is a congested highway.

            Anger is not “hate,” but it is the genus of the species. A person can be angry without hating. Hate isn’t just irritation or annoyance or frustration at anyone or anything. Hate is the RESULT. An angry person can make rational decisions. Hate blinds. Hate deafens. Hate mutes.

            This is an angry world. This is a world where common sense is dwarfed by knee-jerk reactions. A world where it is all or none.

            Anger is fueled by Ignorance. Not the derogatory stupidity, but of the actual act of ignoring what is really there. The media knows this. They thrive on it. Journalism has become an exercise in creative writing to determine who can come up with the most bombastic headline to catch the most readers. And, more often than not, that’s where the reader stops. They read the headline, become angry, and thus, are ignorant of the facts.

            This is why Anger is a two-way street. Anyone can be angry. It doesn’t matter which side of the political or religious spectrum you fall on. Extremists are extremists. But we cannot condone the ignorant and horrific actions of extremists by automatically laying blame on the opposition. The blame lies solely on the shoulders of the perpetrators of these actions. It was they who allowed themselves to be worked into a frenzy of fear and rage and confusion. They alone made the decisions they did, regardless of how misguided their actions were based on the information they chose to accept as “true.”

            Now, we are left standing over the corpses of rational ideas, trampled to death when we shoved them out of the way in order to be the first and the loudest to complain. Immigrants. Guns. Money. Race. These are not the issues. They are the CAUSE of the issue. They’re just umbrella categories that you can stick almost anything under.

            The ISSUE isn’t immigrants; it’s How do we handle the influx while still treating them as human beings?

            The ISSUE isn’t guns; it’s Where is the common ground between safety/recreation and “It’s my right/I’m allowed to have one”?

            The ISSUE isn’t money; it’s Why is the cost of living so high?

            The ISSUE isn’t race; it’s How do we lessen the impact of inequality in our society (because we’re never going to get rid of it)?

            And this all boils down to the all-or-nothing mentality of our leaders. This “my way, or the highway” attitude is what is killing America, not people of the same gender who lover each other, not a video game that tells a violent narrative, not an abandonment of God. Politicians love to write legislation they know the opposition will rebuke, that way then can shrug their shoulders and say they tried. But they never intended to meet in the middle.

            This isn’t governing, it’s a hostage negotiation. We, the people, are trapped. And people can do some pretty crazy things when they feel trapped. Anything to escape.

            When a person goes on a murderous rampage, lets mourn the dead and vilify the deviant. Don’t respond to one attack with another, that will do nothing but incite still more attacks of one kind or another. Let’s not stand around and agree that “something” must be done, let’s come up with ideas for that “something.” For instance, instead of saying that “something must be done” about gun violence, how about starting a plan to end it. And don’t just dive into the deep end right away, because you know the other side will shut you down right away. If your goal is to ban the sale of assault weapons to private citizens in the United States, then maybe start with proposing legislation to tax the sale of weapons, or, better yet, the ammunition. It isn’t infringing on the Second Amendment if you make the weapons/ammunition ridiculously expensive. Or institute a special property tax on designated firearms deemed to be dangerous.  Some may deem these measures to be “extreme,” but so is the idea that any one should be able to own any gun they chose just because they’re “allowed” to. Yet that doesn’t seem to be the way the majority of pro-Second Amendment advocates feel. So, why is that all we seem to hear?

            Again, lets look at Ignorance.

            Why is it that those in favor of legislation to hinder the ability someone from purchasing a firearm are denounced as wanting to abolish all guns? I’m sure there are those who do wish for such a thing, but it is far from even being close to a large number. Similarly, why is it that when someone argues for their right to bare arms, they are immediately accused of wanting to hand out guns like Halloween candy? Again, I’m sure those people exist, but we are talking about the smallest fraction of a single percentage.

            So, why?

            Because those are the opinions we are shown most frequently. Media personalities on Fox News love to claim that all Democrats are “coming for your guns, America.” Conversely, the folks over at CNN love to show clips of these demonstrative individuals at the height of their mania and use it as proof that all Republicans want everyone to be armed to the teeth.

            None of these things are true, but we are presented with these views as if it were the truth, disguised as information.

            The same thing can be said about abortion or immigration or race. The media only provides us with the most extreme voices as a representation of the whole. So, is the media to blame for all of this?

            Not at all.

            We are.

            We, the people of the United States of America, are to blame because we have let ourselves reach a place where we are so divisive that there is no longer common ground on which to stand on any issue. And this stems from Ignorance.

            And the ignorant are quick to anger.

WHY LUKE SKYWALKER IS EXACTLY AS HE SHOULD BE IN THE LAST JEDI: A Character Study

All movies have their flaws. Sometimes it is little things like editing mistakes or continuity errors; things that don’t really detract from the overall story but are noticed nonetheless and can distract a viewer. The most common mistakes come in the form of plot holes, convoluted character development, and narrative imbalance. These are usually referred to as bad or lazy writing (but it isn’t always the writer’s fault). In fact, there are a lot of people at fault in situations like these. From the actors sometimes “suggesting” changes, to studio executives demanding adjustments to better meet certain market goals, the faults hardly lie with a single person.

            It may be hard to understand this because lately there seems to be all sorts of commentary from individuals that are aimed at a single, and often wrong, person (be it the director, writer, or actor). Angry armies of consumers, armed with their digital pitchforks, do their damnedest to make sure that their opinions are the loudest and most important one heard. And nothing brings out the mob like fandoms. These self-aggrandized knights have taken it upon themselves to protect the virtue of material that they feel is sacred and will strike with genocidal anger at any slight, not matter how small (or imagined).

            Recently, a small number of “fans” have gotten together to raise money in order to remake Star Wars: Episode VIII—The Last Jedi because they felt that it robbed them of something that was never theirs to begin with. They quickly assigned blame to everyone they could. They blamed George Lucas for selling out to Disney. They blamed Disney for abandoning the core foundation of the Star Wars universe (which was already about as solid as fog).  They blamed the director. They blamed the actors. They blamed everyone, except themselves for getting their hopes too high and not just enjoying the final product that was offered.

            Their biggest complaint came from the depiction of Luke Skywalker, played by Mark Hamill. Instead of the lightsaber-spinning, rock-lifting, Force superman they were wanting, they got a grumpy hermit who had shut himself off from the Force completely and literally suckled at the teat of his life in questionable exile.

            The tantrums began right away.

Arguments abounded that Luke, having endured all he had in his youth, would never give up, never flee from the good fight. He wouldn’t have done it all for nothing.

            True enough; but he didn’t do it all for nothing, it’s just that nothing became of what he did. Keep in mind that all of the previously-written adventures that took place in novels and comic books have all been erased from canon. So that Luke Skywalker, the one who got married, opened a Jedi academy, and constantly fought with the Darth Vader that haunted his own thoughts, would not (and obviously did not) run when the going to tough. But that Luke is now a legend. Quite literally, actually, because those stories are considered part of the Legends: the stories that happened outside of the current Star Wars universe that is overseen by Disney.

            Think of it like this: all of those novels and comics were just the tall tales that the people in the galaxy far, far away told each other about the hero.

            If you look at the actual Luke, the one presented in the original three Star Wars films, it is perfectly logical that he would hightail it as far as he could go. Of the many wounds inflicted upon the fans’ memories of Luke Skywalker, the three they called out most for being out of character, were the isolationism, his failure as a Jedi, and his death.

            For starters, Luke was raised in isolationism. He told C3-PO as much, noting that Tatooine was about as far from the bright center of the universe as one could go. Not only that, but the planet was isolated from Imperial presence until the opening of the fist film. Also, consider that his home was in the middle of nowhere. He had friends, but they lived much closer to the settlements, so he more than likely had limited contact with them. The poor kid feels so alone that, after his family is killed by Stormtroopers, he tells Obi-Wan that there is “nothing” left on the planet for him. He is the lone hero, after all. He single-handedly takes down the Death Star. He confronts Vader, alone, in The Empire Strikes Back. He cremates Vader’s body alone. So, not only has he known separation his whole life, he is actually comfortable with it.

            Perhaps not so much with the solitude he finds once he he’s proclaimed a hero. This heroic isolationism can be more difficult to deal with because now Luke finds himself placed on a pedestal like a fragile piece of priceless art in a museum, to be seen but never interacted with. He wants to be a great pilot (and Jedi), like his father, but once he demonstrates his prowess for it, think of the unbelievable pressure put on him to keep it up. In The Empire Strikes Back, he may have purposefully chosen to be assigned the rank of Commander among the rest of the grunts in order to alleviate some of his feelings of inadequacy at the mantle of “hero.” It is in the opening of the film that Luke, again, chooses to be alone. He sees something fall from they sky and elects to check it out himself. While he is on his own, he is attacked by the wampa creature and left to fend for himself. Even when he escapes and is wandering in the blizzard, he doesn’t really look panicked, just overcome by the elements. Of course, soon after, Obi-Wan’s ghost shows up, followed by Han. Later, Yoda instructs him that he must face his fears inside the swampy cave alone. Luke shrugs this off and heads in.

            So why is it such a stretch of the gonads to accept that, after Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side, Luke would run off to be alone? And his choice would have directly affected his mood and personality in that time as well. Don’t forget that while Obi-Wan and Yoda exiled themselves, they did not cut themselves off from the Force. In fact, both worked to strengthen their connection to the mystical power. As referenced at the end of Revenge of the Sith, Yoda and Obi-Wan are going to commune with “an old friend” (presumably the slain Qui-Gon Jinn) while in hiding. Luke Skywalker, however, had no such accompaniment. By closing himself off, he rebuffed any connection to his former masters. This is evidenced in the scene where Luke sets off to destroy the ancient Jedi tree where he encounters Yoda’s spirit. This comes only after Luke has reawakened the Force within himself in his skirmish with Rey. True, he was not technically alone on Ahch-To as it was home to the Lanai (a fish-turtle-bird kind of humanoid creature), but they kept to themselves as did Luke so it is doubtful he was influential in their society.

            One of the biggest truths about Luke’s isolation is probably a little more important to the plot than many think. When Rey arrives with Chewbacca, Luke is a bit excited to see the wookie; but he is shattered when he asks about Han. By severing his connection to the Force, Luke has abandoned his friends and family, leaving himself free to live his hermit’s life without constant worry about their well-being. There is a deleted scene where Luke reacts to Han’s death (especially after knowing it was at the hands of Kylo Ren), but it could also show Luke’s frustration at himself for either letting it happen, or for having decided to turn off his ability to know that it happened at all.

            Luke’s isolation really shouldn’t come as any surprise when compared to the life of the other Jedi he had trained with. It seems prudent that whenever the Jedi are nearly wiped out, the survivors go into hiding. And while the exact amount of time Luke has spent on Ahch-To is not yet clarified, it has been guessed to be between eight and fifteen years (the time depends on how long theorists give him to actually locate the planet he wishes to hide on considering he most likely didn’t have an escape plan in place at the time he needed one). Can a person completely change who they are in that amount of time? Well, I doubt anyone is the same person they were ten years ago. Also, remember that Luke witnessed everything he has worked so hard to build and shape and maintain literally come crashing down around him. He watched lives snuffed out and he could not protect them. He has been emotionally shattered, damaged. He has seen all the good stripped from his universe, leaving only disillusion and contempt. Is it really any wonder that he is jaded and fed up when we see him after he has had time to stew in his own misery?

            For those that would argue that a Jedi would never do that, I argue that Luke was never really a full Jedi. He a few weeks of training (at most) with Obi-Wan, then, maybe a few years with Yoda. Looking back to the prequels, Jedi are found at birth and put into training until they can pass the challenges. That can take between 16 and 25 years. Then they have to be a Jedi Knight until the rank of Master is bestowed upon them. Luke just doesn’t measure up. In Return of the Jedi, he claims to be a Jedi Knight when confronting Jaba the Hutt. He gives himself the rank of Master at some point after the closing credits of that film. So, we know that it is more than reasonable to assume that he wasn’t ready for such an undertaking (he just happened to be the last one)—and he knows it, too. This shame is what drives Luke to Ahch-To. This shame is why he exiles himself. This shame has turned him jaded and crass towards the good the Force can do and showed him the hypocrisy of the Jedi teachings.

Another reason that Luke would absolutely head for the hills is because all of his failures are haunting him. Nearly every single one of Luke’s victories is actually revealed to be a failure later on in his story.

            At the end of A New Hope, Luke, guided by the Force, and taking a big step in his Jedi training, destroys the Death Star, saving the Rebellion forces on Yavin 4. There is a medal ceremony, fireworks, probably a nice reception afterwards with punch and light hors d’oeuvres. The galaxy is safe and the bad guys are defeated. Except that Luke’s heroics didn’t do anything but royally piss off the Emperor. The Death Star was just a mechanized instrument of fear and destruction, not the base of operations for the Empire. Destroying it won the battle, not the war. Luke’s youth kept his head floating in the hero clouds for probably far too long, because, when we next see him in Hoth, he is far from the same Luke that grinned ridiculously after getting hid medal. He is aware of his failure, and likely more than a little afraid that others are too.

            This leads him to take risks like venturing out on his own that, without his connection to the Force, he would doubtfully have done. Could it be that he feels that he needs to constantly test himself in dangerous situations in order to maintain his hero status in the eyes of his peers? In these scenes, he is either given a warning or offered assistance. He ignores both by saying that he’ll be “all right.” Ultimately, he is not. In fact, Luke is rescued in all of the series more than any other character. He’s saved from the Sandpeople. He’s saved from the shootout with the Stormtroopers. He’s saved from the wampa. He’s saved from freezing to death. He’s saved from being stranded on Degobah. He’s saved from dangling from the bottom of Cloud City. The list goes on. And each time he needs saving it is because something that he has done that is meant to be heroic has actually failed.

            In his fearless confrontation with Darth Vader in Cloud City, Luke is giving his friends a chance to escape by taking on the biggest bad guy around. During the fight he displays some skill that impresses his nemesis, but is nothing more than show, really. His act of heroism is inspired by his victory in the cave on Degobah, but not really grounded in reality. Critics have stated that Vader is simply toying with Luke in this fight, knowing it is his son and looking to turn him. He allows Luke to get the upper hand in a few instances, but Vader hardly puts up a real fight (actually, Vader doesn’t really fight that hard in any of his combat scenes—even with Obi-Wan), and Luke is overcome with confidence. Until Vader quickly cuts off the boy’s hand and watches him fall to his death. In their next duel aboard the second Death Star, it is pretty much the same, only Luke is stronger in his saber skills and in the Force. Vader, however, still hacks away lazily at Luke, waiting to be beaten. When all is said and done, and Vader has disposed of the Emperor (not Luke, you’ll notice), the day is saved once and for all. Only this time, by defeating Darth Vader, Luke has also killed his father, Anakin Skywalker. The sad fact is that Luke’s entire mission (which he gave to himself), was to save Anakin. It is unclear at this point how much this failure affected Luke in the times between films, but that wasn’t the Jedi’s last failure that was disguised as a win.

            When Luke is first introduced in Return of the Jedi, he has changed yet again. Long-gone is that cocky farm boy who played with toy spaceships in his basement and dreamed of grand adventures. He has been replaced by a darker, hardened person. Enough time has passed that he has constructed a new lightsaber and picked up several new Jedi skills. He is confident, brash, and suave. Even if you see this an act he put on with the rest of his crew to rescue Han, it is still a vastly different Luke than the one we left at the end of Empire, and even more changed than the grinning idiot at the end of Hope. But we are also introduced to a Luke who seems to have decided that his personal needs are more important than those of the Rebellion. Instead of leading his friends into battle, he veers off on his selfish quest to bring Anakin Skywalker back to the light. Simply put, Luke’s personality in The Last Jedi is a logical step in his character’s development, based on his previous evolutions, each one sharpened by the failures of the previous version.

            Oh, but his failures are not complete, for at the end of Return of the Jedi, we see the heroes smiling and having a good time in the Ewok village as pieces of the Death Star rain down around them. Again, there was much rejoicing, because, this time, the Emperor has been defeated—but not the Empire. Out of the vestiges of the Empire came the First Order. Same team, different name, new coach.

            After the events of Return of the Jedi, it is referenced in official Star Wars information that Luke spent the next decade or so scouring the stars in search of Force-sensitives whom he could train in the ways of the Jedi. His goal being to raise a new temple and to put balance in his teachings. But this is where Luke’s failures almost become predetermined and self-fulfilling as he struggles to meet expectations; his own and others’. Luke does as expected, searching for and training a new Order of Jedi, but he cannot keep his prize student from succumbing to his own biggest fear—the Dark Side. Instead of confronting Ben Solo right away and possibly guiding the young man through his own troubles, Luke considers destroying his own nephew. Now, depending on whose side of the story you believe, Luke either chooses to spare Ben’s life only to have Ben turn on him, or, Luke strikes out at Ben forcing Ben to defend himself, thus turning him. Either way, Luke has lost. Ben becomes Kylo Ren and obliterates the new Jedi, keeping Luke alive in order make him suffer in his own failure. This leads to Luke’s second major failure in meeting the expectations.

            As the only surviving Jedi Master, Luke is supposed to be a champion for the New Republic, headed by his own sister. Unfortunately, when he is needed most, he goes into hiding. Unlike the Jedi before him, he is not hiding from those who wish to destroy him, but rather, he is hiding from those whom he may destroy. An argument could be made that Luke is keeping everyone safe by hiding from Kylo Ren, knowing that he would force him into a showdown that would be fatal to both of them, but very little of Luke’s actions and dialogue on Ahch-To lean towards that theory, given that he comes across as so downhearted and has seemingly become dissident to the Jedi’s ways.

            Ultimately, Luke has failed at the one thing he’s wanted since talking with Obi-Wan in the old Jedi’s hut: to become a great Jedi.

Spoiler alert (albeit a bit late), Luke dies at the end of The Last Jedi. It is a much-debated moment that is both shocking and powerful. Those who loved it found it to be a poignant close to Luke’s story, allowing him to go out like Obi-Wan and Yoda. Detractors found it cheap, uncharacteristic, and a major let down.

            But why wouldn’t Luke give in and allow himself to become one with the Force? This is a sacrifice that all great heroes make. If the Force is God, then Anakin is Satan, the one who fell and Luke is Christ, the embodiment of the Force made flesh and was then sacrificed for the salvation of all. Really, allowing him to live is robbing the hero of the ultimate reward. Part of being a Jedi, as recalled from the prequels, is the personal sacrifices that must be made. Detachment from possessions and emotion and relationships are all part of their monastic lifestyle. Clearly, as there are no other Jedi to go against him after Return of the Jedi, Luke is free to bend the rules as he sees fit, but giving up his life when it is needed would be something that he has not only witnessed (through Obi-Wan and Yoda), but would welcome. How many other Jedi are famous for paying the ultimate cost when it mattered most? It is not only an emotional send-off to a character, but it is a very pivotal one in the hero’s journey: the one that Lucas followed so spectacularly when crafting his story in the beginning.

            As part of his enlightenment, Luke displayed a Force power not previously seen in the Star Wars universe: astral projection. Not just a phantom version of himself, but a seemingly corporeal one that interacted with people physically (to a point). I would argue, however, that Luke did not reveal a plot-convenient new Force power. Instead, I suggest that he was able to place himself at the final battle by projecting himself into the mind of everyone there using a supped-up version of the Jedi Mind Trick. Rian Johnson has confirmed that Luke’s look and weapon were no mistakes but were intended props used to drive Kylo Ren mad with rage. Luke looks precisely as he did when Kylo last saw him; he is using Anakin’s lightsaber—which Ren himself helped destroy previously in the film; he is completely impervious. I would submit as proof he is using the mind trick that Luke leaves no footprints in the red salt, the way everyone else does (specifically shown when the Rebel commander steps past the dugout and leaves a blood-red footprint); after the blaster onslaught, there is not a speck of red dust on Luke; finally, before the reveal, during the fight, Luke and Kylo never actually lock saber blades—Luke just dodges. See, Luke knows that he cannot beat Kylo Ren in a physical contest, but he absolutely can beat him in a mental one. Luke then lets Kylo Ren defeat himself. This not only leaves Kylo unfulfilled, and robbed of the biggest drive to his character, but also looking humiliated.

            All of that effort has taken its toll one Luke. After having distanced himself from the Force for so long, and then performing such an act of absolute power, shows him that he is ready to move on to the next level—to become one with the force. Now, there are those who argue that Luke “gives up” and dies like a coward, but they are not fully comprehending what Luke has done. As Obi-Wan stated, by dying, he becomes stronger than he “could possibly imagine.” Becoming one with the Force is not giving up, and I cannot understand how anyone could mistake that action as being out of character for Luke. Surly, having already been conversing with the spirit of Obi-Wan and then with Yoda as well, Luke was fully aware of what could happen.

Think of Luke’s journey like riding on an elevator. You get in on the ground floor. You know there is much more above you. The elevator goes up, stopping at each of the next three floors. You know those floors are there. Then, the elevator goes up to your floor. Are you completely baffled at what happened to all the floors in between, or how you made it to your destination? Of course not. You accept that there are floors below you without having seen them. So why is Luke Skywalker’s character development so hard to comprehend? The process is the same. We left him for a while, and this is how he is when we see him again.

            Was The Last Jedi a great movie? It sure was. Was it perfect? Hell no. While I do like that Disney seemed to learned the Jar-Jar lesson (cute aliens intended for childish delight are better left small, and tertiary), I felt that some scenes were much longer than necessary and others not nearly long enough. I was impressed with the risks the narrative took and was left wanting much more. But this isn’t a study of the entire film, just a response to the backlash of hate about Luke’s character.

            In the end, we’re left with questions that may or may not be answered, and I’m okay with that. The whole universe is fictional, so who the hell cares? The vitriol dealt at the creators of this film was wholly undeserved. I can understand a personal connection to a fictional character or universe, but thinking that your devotions gives you some privilege to dictate what goes on therein is just asinine.

            The unseen actions of Luke Skywalker in the times between Return of the Jedi and The Last Jedi leave the door open to pretty much any number of possibilities. The one chosen by Rian Johnson and his creative team, is not only logical, it is now official. Time to get over it and see what the payoff in Episode IX will be.