3.5 stars

John Wick (2014)

André Crous

There is too much shooting and not enough character in (this first instalment of) John Wick, an action vehicle tailor-made for Keanu Reeves

John WickUSA
3.5*

Director:
Chad Stahelski
Screenwriter:
Derek Kolstad
Director of Photography:
Jonathan Sela

Running time: 100 minutes

Tarantino, by way of Star Trek, taught us that revenge is a dish best served cold. The ice-cold temperament of Keanu Reeves is therefore perfectly suited to a tale of revenge that produces an almost never-ending stream of corpses but is all the more chilling because of its main character’s utterly cool demeanour.

Jonathan “John” Wick (Keanu Reeves) used to be a bad man. Until five years ago, he did astonishingly successful work as a heavy – halfway through the film, someone reminds us, perhaps a tad euphemistically, that Wick used to be the guy you called to “beat people up” – and was an associate of one of the nastiest Russian mobsters in New York City, Viggo Tarasov (Michael Nyqvist).

A few days after the death of Wick’s wife, a group of young Russians notice his 1969 Boss Mustang at a gas station; that evening, they beat him to within an inch of his life and take the car. By some crazy coincidence, one of the men is Tarasov’s son, Iosef (Alfie Allen), who has no idea yet what he is about to unleash. And we know that some bad things are on the way because his father the strongman goes silent.

Chad Stahelski (David Leitch performed co-director duties, but because of DGA rules, only one person can receive credit as director) reveals very few details about Wick’s past life, either working in the business or living with his now-late wife, whom we only see in flashbacks and in a prominent video on his mobile phone. This lack of information hinders our understanding of the character but it also makes him an enigma whose strength lies demonstrably in the number of people he can kill without breaking a sweat, or a nail.

The first shots of Wick at home show us he is living very comfortably, but we don’t know how this is possible, whether his wife knew anything about the way he used to make his money or whether he has a day job. When a policeman stops by late one night during an altercation, the scene between them is deliberately comical but will baffle the viewer on second thought, because we don’t have enough insight into his life to understand why the cop plays dumb on purpose, albeit much to our enjoyment.

Thankfully, it is Reeves in the role of Wick, and even when he becomes emotional, be it out of sadness or out of anger, his expressions are muted, which in this case is a very good thing. What is not a good thing, however, is the casting of his nemesis. While Michael Nyqvist is a fine actor in his native Swedish (he starred as Mikael Blomkvist in the original TV series adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and its sequels), his English is terribly wooden, and he is done no favours by a screenplay that makes him recite dialogue that sounds like it is from more than a century ago. His Russian may very well be better than his English (I couldn’t tell), but the film would have been much better off with a different actor in the role.

The story of a man unwillingly drawn back into his former life in the underworld to avenge a more recent injustice may sound a bit like The History of Violence, but John Wick has nowhere near the same insight or sense of drama as Cronenberg’s stunning 2005 film. Instead, we just get a lot of gunshots, stab wounds and broken bones, often without even knowing anything about the victims.

If you like violence, you will love John Wick. There is little variety, as more than half of the living shuffle off their mortal coil with a shot to the head, and the story is terribly thin, but the film does remind us that Reeves has a place in the action film genre, and sometimes it needs him as much as he needs it.

Sworn Virgin (2015)

André Crous

Sworn Virgin, which tells the story of an Albanian woman who first becomes a man, then a woman again, is sturdy, but the main actress stares too much.

Sworn VirginItaly/Albania
3.5*

Director:
Laura Bispuri
Screenwriter:
Francesca Manieri
Director of Photography:
Vladan Radovic

Running time: 90 minutes

Original title: Vergine giurata

Although mostly expressionless and saying very little, Mark hopes that the journey away from his homeland will set him free and bring about a life-altering metamorphosis. Mark grew up in the north Albanian countryside as a woman named “Hana,” but because of the strict rules of the area, which include countless restrictions on women’s activities and freedoms, she rejected her womanhood, at least insofar as the term is used in this context.

However, in order to access the traditionally male activities of hunting, smoking, drinking and many others, she had to swear to remain a virgin for eternity and give up any desire to love (it is not clearly stated why this is the case, as most men born as men are presumably allowed to experience this basic human emotion). She has also had to work hard to look like a man and took the name “Mark”.

In the role of Hana/Mark is Italian actress Alba Rohrwacher, who speaks Albanian throughout the film. At the beginning of the film, after leaving the homeland, she turns up in Milan at her sister’s place. Her sister, Lila, resisted tradition in her own fashion, as she rejected the idea of being married off by her father and instead left for Italy with the man she chose herself. But any expectations of a kindred spirit are dashed when Mark arrives to find that his niece, Jonida, has never been told of his existence, and Lila also appears uncomfortable that this news has so now come to light.

The film develops at a leisurely pace that remains engaging, as we put the pieces together (many of them provided to us by means of flashbacks to Hana and Lila’s childhood) and attempt to understand why Mark has made the journey to Italy.

The central character is very hesitant to share his reasons for coming, but the opening scenes in Rogam, in the Albanian Alps, where Mark had been living in complete isolation, suggest a longing for companionship, which would obviously require him to break his vow of eternal virginity and surrender his gender pronouns. Slowly, Mark becomes Hana again, and although some activists from the gender police might baulk at this turn of events, début director Laura Bispuri does not rush toward a sudden transformation but rather makes the viewer feel as immersed yet as unsure of the direction of the story as the title character almost certainly does.

Rohrwacher’s appearance also contributes significantly to our understanding of her character’s awkwardness in either gender role: With her gaunt figure here, she barely passes for a man at all, except for the flat, breast-bound chest and the cropped haircut. However, her long-time isolation and apparent lack of social interaction have led her to appear clueless about some very everyday things in Italy, and when she opens cosmetics in a store or stares at a mannequin wearing a bra, one could think of the oafish Crocodile Dundee, which is a very unfortunate point of reference.

The opening scenes are replete with atmosphere and meaning, as we not only get a glimpse of the idyllic, misty landscape of the mountain region, full of lush green mountainsides and deep blue waters, but one exterior shot of Mark’s house also includes a brief moment of a sheet of snow sliding off the roof – an unmistakable metaphor for the veil that is about to drop to reveal the original structure.

But it is the structure of the rest of the film – the gentle back-and-forth shift between the past and the present, which is the trajectory from woman to man and then from man to woman – that most visibly showcases the two hands shaping the character of Mark/Hana, and it is a strategy that works well to make the viewer aware of the struggles and the layers of this person. Her past and present mould and represent her as much as the two gender roles she takes on.

Scenes from Hana’s youth show why she wants to take on male roles, while those in the present focus on the difficulty of adapting to an entirely new context in geographical, social and sexual terms. We do not always have a perfect grasp of her reasons, but the pieces fit together well enough for us to acknowledge her conviction that this re-definition of herself is necessary.

The transition has its fits and starts, but one scene shrewdly and vividly illustrates the shedding of the old and the acceptance of the new. Having found a job as a security guard at a parking garage, Mark sits in front of a pane of glass late one night, removes his name tag and places it in front of him, on the glass, physically at a remove while still visually attached to his slight reflection. The moment is brief, but it has emotional and cerebral resonance for the viewer, which helps to signpost Mark’s transformation.

Unfortunately, the lack of emotion makes Mark/Hana a difficult character to grow close to, and her constant staring at people or things around her is sometimes grating. It is also a little far-fetched that Mark would simply up and leave from half a lifetime in Albania, with nary a belonging, and arrive in Milan to not only turn over a new leaf but write a new story. Nonetheless, Sworn Virgin is an assured first film by Bispuri that provides the viewer with little but never too little information, although a less distant performance by her lead would be welcomed as an improvement in her future projects.

Viewed at the 2015 Karlovy Vary International Film Festival

The Double (2013)

André Crous

In The Double, Richard Ayoade’s stylish thriller set in a futuristic underworld, one plus one does not make two.

The DoubleUK
3.5*

Director:
Richard Ayoade
Screenwriters:
Avi Korine
Richard Ayoade
Director of Photography:
Erik Wilson

Running time: 90 minutes

Not unlike Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy, which was released in the same year, Richard Ayoade’s The Double shows signs of noir, with a lot of the action taking place in yellow-hued, toxic-looking daylight (Enemy) or at night time and inside windowless buildings where the rooms are lit with hard yellow lights (The Double). Also, both stories are adaptations of works by renowned novelists – the former from José Saramago and the latter from Dostoyevsky. The two films are surprisingly similar in tone, with very thin storylines enveloped in a sense of utter hopelessness that, especially in The Double, seems positively Kafkaesque.

Set in an anonymous city at an unknown time in what is more a world of nightmares than that of actual reality (thus differing slightly from the recognisable yet alien Toronto landscape presented in Enemy), Ayoade’s film seems to have borrowed its sombre ambience from Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, with all devices simultaneously appearing to be advancements of and regressions from those of the present day.

The main character here is an awkward, gangly fellow named Simon James (Jesse Eisenberg), who loses his briefcase in the subway when he fails to be assertive. This lack of action pervades the film, and at times the viewer will be thoroughly demoralised by how pathetic he is. But when he arrives at the reception desk of the behemoth that is his workplace, where he has been employed for more than seven years, he discovers that the clerk doesn’t recognise him without his ID card. In fact, he slowly realises he is mostly invisible to those around him.

But then, something extraordinary happens. A fellow who looks and dresses exactly like him arrives. This doppelgänger is called James Simon, and he is everything Simon James wishes he was: pro-active, confident, charming, likeable and immediately noticeable.

As in Enemy, we are provided with no reason why the two of them look the same, but here our frustration is compounded by the utter lack of investigation from Simon James’s side. Whenever he wants to say something, he fidgets, clenches his teeth and grunts, but he doesn’t speak up.

It is a thrill to watch Eisenberg in these two roles. The actor alternately draws on both of his strengths – the awkward goody-two-shoes we know from Zombieland and the snake capable of delivering rapid-fire retorts in Social Network – and whenever he is onscreen (which is all the time), he lights up the story and grabs our attention, even when we want to give him a kick up the backside to make him move, or to stop moving.

What is even more thrilling is the interaction between the two characters, especially when the relationship is one built on working together rather than against each other. This collaboration doesn’t last very long, however, and before we know it the two are at each other’s throats again, with James Simon making it clear he will do whatever it takes to dash any hopes his original has of getting the girl or proving his worth to the man at the top, the founder of the mysterious company: the Colonel.

There are bursts of music, mostly from 1960s Japan, and other strange sounds regularly pepper the soundtrack for brief moments before ending just as abruptly as they started. But in terms of sound, nothing is as good as what happens at a restaurant on a date between the girl from the local copy shop (Mia Wasikowska) and Simon (who, she thinks, is James). During a major argument, the volume on the radio is turned up past 11, and other implements start whizzing so loudly we can’t hear anything. It’s the North by Northwest trick of using noise to drown out dialogue for effect, and it is used brilliantly.

Less brilliant, however, is the plot, which is deliberately enigmatic and offers the viewer little opportunity to follow what exactly is going on. We know where things will end up eventually, but just as in Fight Club, whose two main characters are analogous to the ones here, the film doesn’t really explain the eventual demise (or murder) of the more reckless one, except to imply a kind of Pleasantville transformation brought on by choosing action instead of stagnation.

Paddy Considine stars in Simon’s beloved sci-fi television series here as an unnamed laser-gun toter whom he eventually tries to emulate, but even this explanation is fraught with a lack of clarity and doesn’t help us all that much.

The Double is a stylish, surrealist neo-noir that you shouldn’t be watching if you expect all your questions answered, but on top of wonderful casting and a frightening sense of doom throughout, this may be one of the most original films in recent memory.

By the Grace of God (2018)

André Crous

Based on real events, François Ozon’s By the Grace of God recounts the struggles of multiple middle-aged men in Lyon to come to terms with being sexually abused by their local priest in their youth.

By the Grace of GodFrance/Belgium
3.5*

Director:
François Ozon
Screenwriter:
François Ozon
Director of Photography:
Manuel Dacosse

Original title: Grâce à Dieu

Running time: 135 minutes

Religion is theatre, so it comes as little surprise that the opening act of François Ozon’s By the Grace of God, a film dealing with a real-life church abuse scandal in the French city of Lyon, is mostly about people in robes speaking their lines but ultimately just playing roles. And yet, the feeling of despair is ubiquitous and, especially in the film’s first third, close to suffocating.

The story, by now, is a notoriously well-trodden one. However, it bears repeating because it appears the (perhaps tens of) thousands of priests engaged in this abominable, sometimes decades-long behaviour, have not been properly held to account. Columnist Dan Savage has rightly noted that, “If kids got raped by clowns as often as they get raped by pastors, it would be against the law to take your kids to the circus.”

And yet, even some of those who have been raped or otherwise molested continue to take their own children to church, perhaps in the devastatingly naïve belief that their own experience was unique. In the meantime, however, children continue to be exposed to predators who talk about forgiveness as much as they commit sins against the vulnerable children in their care.

Ozon’s film is broadly divided into three parts, although he struggles to connect them and the transitions are often very abrupt. In the first and arguably the best act, Melvil Poupaud stars as Alexandre, a middle-aged actuary and family man from Lyon who has decided to open up to his family and the church about the abuse he suffered at the hands of a local priest, Bernard Preynat, in his youth. He is encouraged by the recent pronouncements of Philippe Barbarin, a cardinal and the archbishop of Lyon, against child abuse, and he divulges everything to a mediator from the church, who writes a report and arranges a meeting between Alexandre and his erstwhile abuser, the paedophile priest.

All of this happens in a tranquillity rife with tension as Alexandre shields himself from an emotional breakdown, but the turmoil is always bubbling beneath the surface. Watching all of this unfold feels like the film is stepping on our chest, slowly asphyxiating us with the knowledge that the Church always, ALWAYS protects its own. Alexandre initially views the church as an ally in the fight instead of an accomplice in the cover-up, but he is slowly disabused of this notion as the facts come to light.

These facts include the realisation that there were multiple victims of Father Preynat’s predatory behaviour, including the leads in the film’s two subsequent acts. The first is François (Denis Ménochet), who has become an outspoken atheist; the second is the slightly younger Emmanuel (Swann Arlaud), who suffers from epileptic seizures and still lives with his mother although he likes to boast that he is a “zebra”, a gifted child. The characters are all scarred in their own ways, and many of them have ended up in relationships with others who have gone through similar experiences, which seems to both soothe and compound the issues stemming from them. To fight back, they form the

Ozon’s decision to tell multiple stories gives a rich insight into the various ways in which people struggle with abuse, and by the end of the film, it has become obvious that there are victims – of Preynat, of the Catholic Church writ large and of other abusers – in many more people than we might have thought.

However, once the first act climaxes with a stomach-churning scene in which Alexandre is forced to hold hands with his abuser while praying for strength, the film’s drama stalls. Unlike Spotlight or the stunning documentary feature Deliver Us from Evil, both of which had narratives that continually revealed more and more of what was hidden and who did the hiding, By the Grace of God lands very few serious body blows in its second and third acts. Instead, it focuses on the affected characters’ domestic lives, which come across as complex but fragmentary and not particularly coherent.

The production is far from polished: The scenes with Alexandre feel like completely removed from those of the much less affluent François and Emmanuel. The latter two also seem more willing to wage a fight against the Church, even if it means exposing themselves and their families to the wagging tongues of their friends, acquaintances and the influential society at large in Lyon, a city whose massive basilica towers over it from the top of Fourvière hill.

While all the men’s stories are given coverage in the flashbacks, the film does not go the whole hog and accuse the Church of complete knowledge or committing a cover-up. In Cardinal Barbarin, we see a man who says the right things in public but stalls behind the scenes and is unwilling to change the way things have always been done. He is a conservative but, as far as we can tell, not engaging full-on in the obstruction of progress. And yet, his plodding is infuriating because it can only be read in the most selfish way possible: No matter what offences his fellow priests have committed, we must forgive them because God forgives us. Ozon leaves some room for us to interpret the events, but both Preynat and the Church are almost certain to be viewed as culpable for serious harm caused to scores of children over decades.

If you are not a believer, you will receive some clear evidence to justify your lack of belief. If you do believe in God, this film ought to make you question, once again, why such unspeakable abuse is allowed to happen day in and day out, seemingly “by the Grace of God”. 

Viewed at the 2019 Berlin International Film Festival.

Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)

André Crous

Different than any of its siblings in the canon, Episode VIII: The Last Jedi takes some real chances but seems hesitant to do so and never really manages to soar.

The Last JediUSA
3.5*

Director:
Rian Johnson
Screenwriter:
Rian Johnson
Director of Photography:
Steve Yedlin

Running time: 150 minutes

This is one in a series of reviews including:
– The Phantom Menace (Episode I)
– Attack of the Clones (Episode II)
– Revenge of the Sith (Episode III)
– Star Wars / A New Hope (Episode IV)
– The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)
– The Return of the Jedi (Episode VI)
– The Force Awakens (Episode VII)

“The FIRST ORDER reigns. Having decimated the peaceful Republic, Supreme Leader Snoke now deploys his merciless legions to seize military control of the galaxy.

Only General Leia Organa’s band of RESISTANCE fighters stand against the rising tyranny, certain that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker will return and restore a spark of hope to the fight.

But the Resistance has been exposed. As the First Order speeds toward the Rebel base, the brave heroes mount a desperate escape….“

The Last Jedi is unlike any of its predecessors in the Star Wars canon. Not only does it deploy a different visual grammar (except for the limited use of the perfunctory, obligatory wipes that this fictional world’s creator, George Lucas, borrowed from Akira Kurosawa), but it takes the storytelling in a new direction altogether. This refreshing take on a universe that has been with us for four decades infuses it with a new kind of energy but also sets the instalment up as the odd one out.

Writer-director Rian Johnson’s previous film, Looper, proved time-travel films could both entertain us and take seriously the existential consequences of their time-hopping characters’ actions. In Episode VIII, he flips the script to bring the Star Wars franchise up to speed with present-day trends while retaining enough of its old charm to make us feel right at home.

After The Force Awakens, which was widely viewed as a safe reboot of the original Star Wars film, speculation was rife that this second film in the third trilogy would be similar to the second film in the original trilogy, The Empire Strikes Back. That was a mouth-watering proposition. The 1980 film is historically the most ambitious of all the films in the series precisely because it takes unexpected risks that pay off in spades. But while The Last Jedi tips its hat in the direction of Episode V, in particular with the reappearance of the AT-ATs, it struggles much more than its counterpart to overcome its position as the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end of a trilogy.

It is always a struggle to fit all the characters’ storylines into a particular instalment while keeping to a normal running time and allowing things to breathe. The Empire Strikes Back alternated between the storylines of two significant groups – Luke, Yoda and R2-D2 and Leia, Han, Chewbacca and C-3PO – and added sporadic glimpses of Darth Vader and the Emperor. By contrast, The Last Jedi divides its narrative into at least three different parts spread out across the universe.

An early skirmish between the First Order and the Resistance produces a pyrrhic victory for the rebels: The former suffers material damage, but many of the Resistance fighters are killed in the process, and because Poe defies Leia’s orders to stand down in the heat of battle, he is demoted for insubordination. Leia and the rebels escape but are somehow tracked through hyperspace by their technologically superior enemy. With fuel supplies running low, Poe sends Finn and Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran, a maintenance worker whose sister died in the opening fight, to the Monte Carlo of the universe, the ultra-rich city of Canto Bight. Their mission is to find a codebreaker who could get them onto the First Order’s main dreadnought, the Supremacy, and help them deactivate its hyperspace tracker. This part of the story, which features many important characters all too briefly, is the worst developed and executed of the entire film.

Continuing from the previous episode’s cliffhanger on a rocky island on the remote planet of Ahch-To, a major part of the plot involves Rey and Luke, the two characters in the film who are the most adept at using the Force. Luke, having lived the life of a hermit since Ben Solo (now Kylo Ren) turned to the dark side, has shut himself off from the Force and refuses to engage with Rey, who pleads for guidance in the ways of the Jedi. Over time, he realises it would be better for her to know than not to know, but what he sees in her frightens him… and us.

There is a mind bridge that is also a narrative bridge linking Ahch-To with the Supremacy. For the first time since Episode V, Star Wars uses faux raccords (literally, “fake cuts”) to have two characters – in this case, Rey and Kylo Ren – interact with each other even though are not physically in the same space. This link, or Force connection, which allows them to grow uncomfortably close, is ultimately revealed to be Snoke’s doing to lure Rey into a trap, but it also exposes Kylo’s vulnerable side, when he tells Rey how he came to feel betrayed by Luke. In the theatrical version, these faux raccords took the form of very short dissolves, but they are near-impossible to spot on the home entertainment versions.

With Leia incapacitated, the remaining Resistance cruiser, the Raddus, has only 18 hours of fuel left. It is commandeered by the purple-haired Vice Admiral Holdo, whose leadership Poe and many of his allies onboard call into question because she is so calm amid imminent disaster. But they (and we, the viewers) have limited information, which leads to people like Poe, well-intentioned though he may be, drawing faulty conclusions and going out over their skis.

The film’s most impressive moment of visual flair occurs on Canto Bight, when the rowdy interior of the casino is presented in a way that, with a striking, seemingly impossible, forward tracking shot, pays homage to the most famous William Wellman’s Wings. But many other moments stand out for their awe-inspiring capacity. Some are nostalgic, like Luke meeting R2-D2 again and being shown Leia’s emergency hologram message from Episode IV, now as relevant as then, or Kylo Ren’s decision to kill Snoke, which is followed by a masterfully crafted lightsaber fight. What the hologram also does is create a parallel between Luke and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who, when we meet him in Episode IV, had been hiding out for years before being called on to help the Resistance once again and teach a young fighter about the Force.

Although Finn still seems too easily flabbergasted by revelations, John Boyega is generally better than he was in Episode VII. Yoda’s appearance could easily have become sentimental, but the old rascal is as insightful and as naughty as ever. But Domhnall Gleeson’s toadyish portrayal of First Order General Hux is just beyond awful, and it’s a real pity the character will continue to stick around for another episode.

The worst of the screenplay’s inventions, however, is the Porgs. Unlike the Ewoks of Return of the Jedi or even the Gungans of The Phantom Menace (groups that actually provided assistance to the main characters), the penguin-like Porgs on Ahch-To may be the most pointless creations across the first eight Star Wars episodes. In fact, they appear to serve no other purpose than as an otherworldly cuteness – one that has no bearing on the film but will be easily marketable as toys to younger viewers outside the movie theatre.

And who is the titular “last Jedi”? Luke firmly states (while seemingly looking straight at us) that it will not be him. Leia is still alive, but, as shown by the parallel cut to the Force being used to lift a pile of stones, it is Rey who assumes the mantle and is expected to continue the tradition of the Jedi Order, which at long last is also called a religion. We even glimpse the sacred Jedi texts in her possession on board the Millennium Falcon – presumably with Yoda’s consent.

The most important question that this particular instalment poses is also the one whose answer remains the most elusive: Can we really trust that Rey will remain as steadfast in her desire to remain on the side of the good as she believes? Or is she as likely to be tempted by the power of the dark side as Kylo Ren’s grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, was?

More than any of its predecessors, Episode VIII is interested in shading its characters. A persistent ambiguity about the central characters fills us with hope and fear – a perfect manifestation of the “balance” so often cited as fundamental to life with the Force. Kylo Ren is far from evil, while Rey’s seeming inexperience, perhaps even naïveté, leads us to believe she may be snatched up by the dark side. We also learn that Luke’s very understandable fears led to the destruction of a Jedi training camp (a parallel to Anakin’s killing of the Jedi younglings in Revenge of the Sith) and the rise of a Kylo Ren enamoured of Darth Vader.

Further compounding our uncertainty is Supreme Leader Snoke’s revelation that Rey and Ren, whose names differ by a single letter, did not really see into each other’s past and future when they touched but only saw what Snoke made them see. Thus, Rey’s confidence that Ren could be turned is based on planted evidence, and in turn, Ren’s vision of Rey’s parents is a similarly manufactured piece of fiction. In a scene on Ahch-To, Rey is confronted with an image that seems to suggest she was born not from any two individuals but from herself – a transcendental peculiarity not unlike Anakin’s midichlorian-orchestrated conception.

Our own alliances are in flux because of the uncertainty regarding Rey and Ren’s intentions and their abilities to withstand the temptations of the darkness and the light. The film concludes on a compassionate note that emphasises the bright future of the Resistance but is really just bizarre to watch in the context of all the other instalments because it chooses a peripheral character to convey its message. In the end, we all know that balance means both good and bad will prevail in some form, and Episode IX is likely to have a few nasty surprises up its sleeve.

Just Friends (2018)

André Crous

In the light-hearted Dutch romance Just Friends, a restless young man is urged on by his grandmother to hook up with her equally dashing carer/surfer.

Just Friends / Gewoon vriendenThe Netherlands
3.5*

Director:
Ellen Smit
Screenwriter:
Henk Burger
Director of Photography:
Tjitte Jan Nieuwkoop

Running time: 80 minutes

Original title: Gewoon Vrienden

Gay films can’t be all doom and gloom with the odd rainbow all the time. That would be a very short-sighted depiction of life as a non-straight individual. Rainbows aren’t grayscale, and gay drama is not confined to anguish about one’s sexuality. Stories can take shape and flourish outside the conventional lines of LGBT cinema without being any less worthy of our attention.

This has been the case for close to decade thanks to the work of Argentine director Marco Berger, whose films consistently take place amid abundant sunshine – a perfect visual metaphor for the bright demeanours of his characters, for whom life might have its ups and downs, but not because of their sexual identity.

In Dutch director Ellen Smit’s Just Friends (“Gewoon vrienden”), two gobsmackingly adorable young men – the gym-frequenting, energy drink‒chugging skinhead Joris (Josha Stradowski), who bears more than a passing resemblance to Wentworth Miller, and chocolate-eyed, curly-haired, medical student‒turned‒carer/surfing instructor Yad (Majd Mardo) – meet, flirt and fall in love without missing a beat.

Whether from experience in the real world or from years of watching films in which gay characters confront friends and family unwilling to accept them, viewers of LGBT cinema have come to expect conflict at every turn. Perhaps this is what makes the genre of “sunshine gay films”, which includes Smit’s film and Berger’s entire oeuvre to date, so unexpectedly potent despite its mellow core. Our expectations are upended merely by people being tolerant.

In the case of Just Friends, the potential point of conflict comes in the form of Yad’s family, which originally hails from a Muslim Syrian background. But we come to realise that Yad, who has recently returned home from Amsterdam after partying too hard and realising he needs a fresh start, has had boyfriends before. And even though his mother has voiced her disapproval, it is not at all clear that the reason was them being boys instead of girls. When the time comes, his interaction with his father is also absolutely compelling because the discussion turns not around the fact that Yad and Joris are or aren’t dating but around the issue of how Yad is experiencing the relationship.

But even the bright lights of Yad and Joris can’t outshine the latter’s dazzling grandmother, Ans (Jenny Arean). Living alone with her sickly ginger cat, she needs help around the house, and when Yad shows up, the two seem to hit it off immediately. When Ans’s grandson arrives, however, Yad is smouldering so hard he is just about to spontaneously combust. Joris enjoys every moment of this attention so much he feels compelled to remove his shirt immediately and start pruning the hedges in the garden using a trimmer, although his ripped abs arguably would have done the job equally well.

Joris’s family is still coping with the loss of his father a decade ago, which is likely when Joris’s mother started getting plastic surgery and hitting the bottle. And yet, his father is a persistent presence in the film – mostly because his urn features as prominently as any of the lead characters, but also because he appears in flashbacks beautifully rendered with video scan lines and, at a crucial point, in an animated photograph.

The film contains a single instance of homophobia, and it is quickly nipped in the bud. It doesn’t come from the nemesis but a peripheral villain who only appears in this lone scene. His behaviour and existence seem to be relegated to the fringes of society and can in no way be taken seriously. Such random bullies who pose no threat beyond a rhetorical nuisance don’t deserve our attention anyway.

Sunshine gay cinema is what we need in order to balance all the heartache coming from the tragedy aisle of the LGBT celluloid supermarket. Cinema can create the world as it should be, and in the case of Just Friends, the tolerance is so overwhelming as to be inspiring.

Viewed at the 2018 Cape Town Film Market and Festival.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

André Crous

By the end of the origin trilogy, Star Wars had nowhere else to go but up, and George Lucas manages to complete Anakin Skywalker’s transformation to Darth Vader both believable and frightening.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the SithUSA
3.5*

Director:
George Lucas
Screenwriter:
George Lucas
Director of Photography:
David Tattersall

Running time: 140 minutes

This is one in a series of reviews including:
– The Phantom Menace (Episode I)
– Attack of the Clones (Episode II)
– Star Wars / A New Hope (Episode IV)
– The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)
– The Return of the Jedi (Episode VI)
– The Force Awakens (Episode VII)
– The Last Jedi (Episode VIII)

“War! The Republic is crumbling under attacks by the ruthless Sith Lord, Count Dooku. There are heroes on both sides. Evil is everywhere.
In a stunning move, the fiendish droid leader, General Grievous, has swept into the Republic capital and kidnapped Chancellor Palpatine, leader of the Galactic Senate.
As the Separatist Droid Army attempts to flee the besieged capital with their valuable hostage, two Jedi Knights lead a desperate mission to rescue the captive Chancellor….”

Lightyears ahead of the two episodes that preceded it, Episode III reinjects colour, real drama and genuine filmmaking flair into the franchise that wilted with Episode I and was beaten to a pulp and left out to dry with the release of Episode II. Besides rounding out a number of character transitions and neatly completing the trilogy, it also answers many of the big origin questions that have hung around for more than 20 years, since the release of the original trilogy in 1977–1983.

From the very first moment, this third instalment in the so-called “prequel trilogy” marks a forceful departure from its dreadful predecessor. It is as simple as an unbroken take, one that is not only visually impressive (it definitely is) but also dramatic in terms of the presentation of its content. Even the opening crawl, provided above, boldly proclaims the nature of the situation in no uncertain terms: “War!”

The elegant unbroken take starts with utter calm, however, as the usual beach of starlight stretches out across the dark skies in front of us. The camera pans downward, as it does nearly every time (the exception was Episode II, when it panned up, but then the film lost its nerve and cut away almost instantly), to the giant dagger-shaped form of a Republic attack cruiser floating in near silence in outer space. The scene is peaceful and calm, and in the background, we see the mighty planet of Coruscant with the blinding sun (dis)appearing behind its rim. Two tiny Jedi starfighters whizz towards is, and the camera follows them across the wing as they swoop around the front and down to reveal utter chaos below, where dozens of battleships are shooting at each other.

But this is only the beginning of the fun: The shot, which incorporates very mobile movements as the camera whooshes back and forth past obstacles and even through a cloud of fire, carries on until we spot R2D2 on the wing of a starfighter and immediately deduce this is Anakin’s. Without a moment of hesitation, the film cuts to Anakin’s face inside the cockpit. He is clearly enjoying himself, and for a change (given actor Hayden Christensen’s atrocious performance in Episode II) it is a pleasure to see him because he is fully engaged in the scene.

Anakin and his master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are on their way to rescue Chancellor Palaptine, who has been kidnapped by Count Dooku, the leader of the separatists. And when they do, a mere 15 minutes into the film, the moment presents Anakin with a major quandary. Having been taunted throughout their fight, with Dooku nudging Anakin to come to the Dark Side, and having seen Obi-Wan injured in the fight with Dooku, Anakin eventually subdues him. He holds the two lightsabers – his own one, which is blue, and Dooku’s red one – in his hands and points them in the form of an X around his throat, trying to control his anger. He is filled with doubt and even says that killing an unarmed man would not be the Jedi way. Palpatine, shackled next to him, disagrees and urges Anakin to decapitate the shocked Dooku. Anakin follows through.

This is but the first of many powerful depictions of the internal turmoil that Anakin has to deal with throughout the development of this part of the story. The soft-spoken but serpentine Palpatine knows exactly how to play the game by gently dangling power in front of Anakin. He feels he deserves it by virtue of the chancellor of the Republic declaring it the right thing. And whenever he feels second-guessed or slighted by the Jedis, who can sense evil in Palpatine’s plans, he sides with the chancellor. But he is always genuinely conflicted as to where his loyalties should lie.

These scenes are riveting, even though we know that Anakin is fast on his way to becoming Darth Vader. This prequel trilogy was never about the destination, however: It was always about the journey, and thus the focus had to be on Anakin’s evolution, which in this episode is sharp and does not have the meandering qualities that made the first two instalments so exhausting.

In visual terms, this instalment leaves the previous two in the dust. Not only do we get the first glimpse of Padmé wearing her hair in the form of two bagel buns on either side of her head (as her daughter, Leia, did in the original trilogy), but the special effects are far superior to the mediocrity of the seemingly ever-present rear projection of Episode II, and the colour palette is colder but stronger: blacks, blues and purples seem to permeate the world this time around.

When Palpatine decides to appoint Anakin, who is not a Jedi master but merely an apprentice, to the Jedi Council (a decision that has major repercussions), they walk side by side inside the chancellor’s office, and shortly before the scene wipes to another location, the lighting makes them appear as two silhouettes – partners in darkness. It is a brief moment but speaks to a visual ingenuity that is unusual for Lucas.

With regard to the editing, Lucas also fashions two remarkable alternating sequences of lightsaber duels. The first contrasts the giant fight between Yoda and Palpatine after he has become the irrevocably evil Darth Sidious, first set inside the chancellor’s office and then in the middle of the Senate, and between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin, after he has gone to the Dark Side and become Darth Vader. The second, only a few scenes later, is an interesting juxtaposition of Padmé giving birth and Darth Vader being fitted with his black armour.

The humour in the film is also much better integrated and does not draw attention to itself, as such attempts failed miserably in the first two episodes. The duel between General Grievous, the commander of the separatists’ Droid Army, and Obi-Wan Kenobi is light-hearted and reminds us that not all fight scenes need to be equally sombre. As Kenobi, McGregor is excellent in bringing this sprightliness to the fight, even in the face of Grievous’s four lightsabers.

Unfortunately, a few awkward attempts at romantic dialogue remain, as in this exchange:

Anakin: You are so beautiful.
Padmé: It’s only because I’m so in love.
Anakin: No! It’s because I’m so in love with you…!

Poor Padmé also spends almost the entirety of the film locked up in her room on Coruscant, where she either waits in anguish for the return of her lover and father of her offspring or confronts him about putting up a wall between them out of fear.

The film regularly returns to the Prophecy, in which Qui-Gon Jinn had believed and which Obi-Wan also trusts, that Anakin will bring balance to the Force. However, while the Force will be brought back into balance thanks to Anakin, Yoda also points out that it is a “prophecy that misread could have been”, meaning the easiest explanation is not always the right one. Three more instalments await, and while Anakin is instrumental in returning balance, he will not do so alone, nor directly.

With the possible exception of Episode IV, this is likely the best Star Wars film that Lucas directed. Although still not far from laughable at many points, Christensen’s performance has improved, and we can hear his character’s frustration in his tired “Yes, master” whenever he is told to wait, to be patient, not to do what it is he feels entitled to do. He is racked with fear, confused and lost, looking for his place, but while the final scenes on the volcanic planet of Mustafar are too long and look rather uninteresting, the climax is exactly what we had been waiting for all along.

Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983)

André Crous

The first Star Wars trilogy comes to an end with a sputter in Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, which aims much lower and takes far fewer risks than its predecessor.

Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the JediUSA
3.5*

Director:
Richard Marquand
Screenwriters:
Lawrence Kasdan
George Lucas
Director of Photography:
Alan Hume

Running time: 130 minutes

This is one in a series of reviews including:
– The Phantom Menace (Episode I)
– Attack of the Clones (Episode II)
– The Revenge of the Sith (Episode III)
– Star Wars / A New Hope (Episode IV)
– The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)
– The Force Awakens (Episode VII)
– The Last Jedi (Episode VIII)

“Luke Skywalker has returned to his home planet of Tatooine in an attempt to rescue his friend Han Solo from the clutches of the vile gangster Jabba the Hutt.

Little does Luke know that the GALACTIC EMPIRE has secretly begun construction on a new armored space station even more powerful than the first dreaded Death Star.

When completed, this ultimate weapon will spell certain doom for the small band of rebels struggling to restore freedom to the galaxy….“

The Ewoks are unduly demonised. These furry little koala-like creatures living on the forest planet of Endor and bubbling with curiosity may have very primitive tools at their disposal, but they quickly rally behind the rebels and ultimately help win the war against the Empire. They are harmless and act as a very effective manifestation of one of the metaphors that run through the franchise: They are the Davids to the Empire’s Goliath, especially as the monstrous Death Star II looms right above Endor. Contrary to their detractors’ assertions, they are not at all comparable to the pitiful Gungans of Episode I.

Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, the third and final film of the original trilogy, may have some of the worst special effects in the entire franchise and acting that is not quite up to snuff, but it gently winds down the story by answering important questions and slaying Luke Skywalker’s two primary nemeses: Darth Vader and the Emperor. Most importantly, it also shows the very real struggle inside Luke, who gets to face his sworn enemies and has to decide whether to yield to anger or not: “Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”

On the latter point, a return visit to Yoda, the source of this quotation, proves just as influential and revealing as Luke’s first interaction with the old Jedi master in the previous instalment. Self-deprecating and impish, Yoda is still the same delightful creature we know from earlier episodes. But this is the end of the road for him. His 900 years of existence have caught up with him now that he has set Luke on the path to realise his own potential and draw positive energy from the Force even as he confronts his inner demons:

“No more training do you require. Already know you that which you need … One thing remains: Vader. You must confront Vader. Then, only then, a Jedi will you be. And confront him you will.”

and

“Remember, a Jedi’s strength flows from the Force. But beware. Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side are they. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”

He confirms that Vader is indeed Luke’s father, and before he literally dissolves into the afterlife he mentions that there is another Skywalker, who Obi-Wan confirms is Leia. Of course, this is the film that provides us with Leia’s most celebrated appearance in the franchise: Dressed in a skimpy bikini as crime lord Jabba the Hutt’s body servant, she is manacled next to him but ultimately uses the chains as a means to take sweet revenge.

When Jabba sentences Luke and Han to a grisly death by 1,000-year digestion inside the desert monster called the Sarlacc, we get to see the franchise’s worst special effects in action. In fact, the quality is so bad that even the most recent update to the instalment looks mediocre. Scenes in which the dunes of Tatooine whiz past in the background look like very bad blue screen work, and the visual compositions showing the Sarlacc’s gaping mouth of the Sarlacc (also known as the Pit of Carkoon) are mostly wide shots that make it look small, almost innocuous, and far from frightening.

Luckily, there are the Ewoks who pop up in the final act. They may look cuddly and are not particularly bright, but they do remind us of the goodness in the universe. And their emotions are pure and affecting, as we see them react with unmistakable sadness when any of them dies in battle. Such goodness, of course, is lacking (though not entirely) from Vader, who has to choose whether to side with his son or with the Emperor.

The film’s treatment of Vader is both surprising and deeply satisfying. We know he used to be Anakin Skywalker, but his mask is incredibly effective at dehumanising him. And yet, the mask is also a blank screen onto which we project our own desires. After Luke confronts his father by saying he still feels “the good” in him, the camera stays on Vader. We cannot see his face. We only hear his familiar and unsettling breathing. But we are almost certain that he is anxious and uncertain, that Luke has triggered real, previously suppressed emotions.

Episode VI‘s indisputable action highlight is the exhilarating chase scenes between the rebels and the Stormtroopers that take place at high speed among thick forest foliage. The film struggles to combat some second-rate effects shots, as it did in the Tatooine desert scenes in the first act, but the point-of-view and reverse POV shots of the speeder bikes more than make up for it and get the adrenaline pumping.

This being the final film of the trilogy, however, the screenwriters (and presumably, George Lucas) obviously assumed it should end with a great battle. This is wholly unnecessary, and the “big battle” is both overlong and on too small a scale to make much of an emotional impact. While Vader, Emperor Palpatine and Luke duke it out on the Death Star, Leia, Han, Chewie and the Ewoks are taking on the Stormtroopers on Endor. But both battles keep getting interrupted by the other, thus fracturing and destroying the inherent tension in the one and the anticipation in the other.

With the Emperor and Darth Vader dead and the Death Star destroyed (again), the Empire is no more, and the rebels have won. On Endor, Luke sees the Force spirits (or ghosts) of the three major Jedis: his father, Anakin, Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi. In the restorations since 1997, the final scenes show us celebrations across the galaxy, and in the versions released after the prequels, Anakin’s spirit curiously takes the form of Hayden Christensen rather than Sebastian Shaw.

This is definitely not on the same level as Episode V. The visual effects quality is inconsistent, the Leia–Han relationship has lost its comedic spark, and moments that should be intimate (like Leia recounting her memories of her birth mother, Padmé) are weighed down by dialogue so terrible it could have been written by Lucas himself: “She was very beautiful. Kind. But sad.” On the whole, the film plays it very safe as it moves inexorably towards its happy ending, but it certainly benefits from putting a neat bow on a story that would not continue for nearly 35 years with the release of Episode VII: The Force Awakens in 2015.

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977)

André Crous

The first (i.e. the fourth) Star Wars changed the space film forever, and while it makes a few missteps, the strides it took have enriched mass entertainment to an incalculable degree. 

Star Wars Episode IV: A New HopeUSA
3.5*

Director:
George Lucas
Screenwriter:
George Lucas
Director of Photography:
Gilbert Taylor

Running time: 125 minutes

Alternate title: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope

This is one in a series of reviews including:
 – The Phantom Menace (Episode I)
– Attack of the Clones (Episode II)
– The Revenge of the Sith (Episode III)
– The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)
– The Return of the Jedi (Episode VI)
– The Force Awakens (Episode VII)
– The Last Jedi (Episode VIII)

“It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.

During the battle, Rebel spies managed to steal secret plans to the Empire’s ultimate weapon, the DEATH STAR, an armored space station with enough power to destroy an entire planet.

Pursued by the Empire’s sinister agents, Princess Leia races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy….”

This is where it all started: in the middle. In 1977, George Lucas, who had turned 33 just a few days earlier, released his third feature film, the first part of what would become a trilogy, and ultimately the first trilogy of three. It featured three main characters – Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia and Han Solo – and would become not just a cult science-fiction but also an incredibly popular film overnight, racking up more than $300 million at the time. For a film made for just $11 million (around $46 million in 2017), that is quite an achievement.

Star Wars has gained a major following over the years, even though its status as a foundational piece of blockbuster entertainment was slightly tarnished by the “origin trilogy” (the so-called prequels: Episodes I, II and III) released 1999–2005. In Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (originally released as “Star Wars“), the cornerstone of the series, the story starts in medias res, and there are frequent reminders of events the viewers of 1977 had no knowledge of. Mentions of the Clone Wars or dramatic irony would only be revealed with the release of the prequels many decades later. Thus, while the film slots well into the overarching story, it can also be rather frustrating for the uninitiated.

But that is quite beside the point. Those unfamiliar with the back story might be slightly misled, but the result is slight mystery instead of confusion, and the effect is a desire to know more. By contrast, Star Wars fans who have seen the earlier episodes will be up to date on the details of the Empire, but the mystery will turn into an appreciation of why certain kinds of information are being misrepresented or withheld. And the experience is at times incredibly moving.

Such is the case with Obi-Wan Kenobi, whom we get to know here as “Uncle Ben”, a solitary individual who has lived for decades deep inside the rocky region on Tatooine called the Jundland Wastes. At the beginning of Episode IV, the small but chirpy R2D2 unit is given a hologram message by Princess Leia of Alderaan to deliver to Obi-Wan. Thus, this droid, along with its gold-plated humanoid robot companion C3PO, arrives on Tatooine, where it is promptly abducted by the tiny cloak-wearing Jawas and sold to the Lars family, to whom Obi-Wan had delivered Luke as a baby.

Luke’s family is his uncle and aunt, and whenever his father comes up in a conversation, usually very obliquely, Luke is all ears, but there is no mention of him beyond his death. Thanks to earlier episodes, we know something the character does not, which is very effective in setting up expectations and creating tension. Viewers of the film back in 1977 did not share this knowledge, and thus the revelation of Luke’s heritage in Episode V would come as a complete surprise. At last, watching this film in the correct chronology (after the earlier episodes), we immediately understand why Obi-Wan responds with such a chilling silence when Luke tells him: “I wanna learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi, like my father.”

Episode IV reveals what an important role the droids, R2D2 and C3PO, play in Luke’s evolution. An orphan raised on an isolated farm somewhere on the dusty planet of Tatooine, he appears to be stuck in a rut until the family needs a new droid. When he and his uncle go shopping, they buy C3PO, but instead of his trusted companion, they opt for R5D4, a red-coloured droid. Fortunately, this R5 unit malfunctions (the film doesn’t show this, but there is widespread suspicion, based on subsequent novelisations and radio performances, that R2 sabotaged the droid on purpose), and R2 ends up in the hands of the Larses.

Arguably, without R2D2, Luke would not have seen the hologram destined for Obi-Wan, in which Leia begs the old Jedi master for help and requests that he go to Alderaan to deliver the plans hidden inside the droid. Taking a fancy to Leia, hearing about the Force from Obi-Wan, receiving his father’s lightsaber and losing his adopted family, he decides to set off for Alderaan. In no small measure, all of this is thanks to R2D2.

But to get there, they need a spaceship and someone desperate enough for money to steer it. They manage to persuade Han Solo, a full-time smuggler (emphasis on the “smug”), who brings along his giant hairy companion, Chewbacca. While Han Solo’s gift of the gab ensures a constant volley of good-natured insults that he lobs with both charm and admirable dexterity, he should not be underestimated. Inside the Mos Eisley cantina, shortly after Han strikes a deal with Obi-Wan, he is confronted by Greedo, a bounty hunter who has come to collect him dead or alive. Han shoots Greedo point-blank without blinking.

Now, it’s worth pointing out that, in the version released in 1977, Han Solo shot first. It is clear as day. Greedo was fighting with nothing but his rhetoric. But George Lucas, who loves to tinker with his own work, creating a new director’s cut as technology allegedly catches up with his vision, had Greedo shoot first (with a gun that appears out of nowhere) in the 20th-anniversary re-release in 1997. In yet another release, the two seem to shoot simultaneously, but Greedo misses. Whether this is of any consequence is a good question, although Lucas seems to think it does. Then again, Lucas has changed or added so many (often extraneous) details that we should honestly ask whether his vision will ever be complete and whether his vision even matters. Probably not. But this was obviously not a question of technology catching up; this is just blatant re-directing.

What everyone remembers about Han Solo is not his indifference to killing people but his pointed quips, which, whether delivered to an enemy, a friend or a potential love interest (he keeps referring to Leia with variations of “Your Worship”), never cease to entertain us.

Lucas’s streak of comedy here is much stronger than his subsequent, fatally cringeworthy attempts in the origin trilogy, and the only reason is Harrison Ford’s comedic timing. Leia’s unflappable demeanour goes a long way towards establishing her stability amid the adrenaline, the hormones and, frankly, the emotions of the men around her.  

But the director, here as in most of the other episodes he helmed, with the possible exception of Episode III, is hopelessly inept at staging action scenes. Blaster bolts usually shoot into all directions, no matter how much training the one behind the trigger has, and the shootouts aboard the mammoth Death Star space station are particularly slipshod when the images recede behind a blur of seemingly random streaks of red plasma.

In other respects, however, the film’s undeniable visual effects accomplishments had arguably as much of an impact on the genre as Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Obi-Wan, in perhaps the most understated but most important line in the franchise, tells Luke, “The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded.” In a way, all viewers of Star Wars were uninformed and weak-minded before they laid their eyes on this raucous space opera. But Lucas fixed that, and this single episode would continue to make ripples decades down the line.

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)

André Crous

Episode VII: The Force Awakens, the first of three new Star Wars films, offers new hope for a brand tarnished by George Lucas’s prequels by hewing close to the original trilogy.

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force AwakensUSA
4*

Director:
J.J. Abrams
Screenwriters:
Lawrence Kasdan
J.J. Abrams
Michael Arndt
Director of Photography:
Dan Mindel

Running time: 135 minutes

This is one in a series of reviews including:
– The Phantom Menace (Episode I)
– Attack of the Clones (Episode II)
– The Revenge of the Sith (Episode III)
– Star Wars / A New Hope (Episode IV)
– The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)
– The Return of the Jedi (Episode VI)

“Luke Skywalker has vanished. In his absence, the sinister FIRST ORDER has risen from the ashes of the Empire and will not rest until Skywalker, the last Jedi, has been destroyed.

With the support of the REPUBLIC, General Leia Organa leads a brave RESISTANCE. She is desperate to find her brother Luke and gain his help in restoring peace and justice to the galaxy.

Leia has sent her most daring pilot on a secret mission to Jakku, where an old ally has discovered a clue to Luke’s whereabouts….”

“Luke Skywalker has vanished”, declares the first line of the opening crawl in the early moments of Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens. The text that sets the scene follows the same pattern as in all previous instalments — we get full names, even if the characters are familiar to most of us, and the sentences are presented as three short paragraphs — but that is not where the similarities end.

In fact, in numerous respects, this latest episode was clearly made with the Star Wars fan in mind. Unlike the unmitigated disaster that was most of the “prequel trilogy” (episodes I through III, released 1999–2005 under the direction of series creator George Lucas), Episode VII is cut from the same cloth as the original trilogy, and not just because it uses wipes to transition between scenes. The events may be set decades into the future, and our friends have become old, but this is still the same galaxy, and even the narrative takes its blueprint from the first film, released in 1977 as Star Wars and subsequently titled Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope.

In broad strokes, without revealing too much, the plot revolves around the quest to locate Luke, the last remaining Jedi in the galaxy. To this end, characters like Han Solo, Leia and Chewbacca make a return, which is no surprise, as they have featured prominently in the trailers. They join up with some novices, including a disillusioned Stormtrooper, FN-21871 or “Finn” (a mostly winsome but sometimes overly enthused John Boyega), and a young woman named Rey (an absolutely stunning turn by Daisy Ridley) who lives in solitude in the desert landscape of Jakku.

Their enemy is the force that has replaced the former Empire and calls itself First Order, led by a physically towering individual, at least from the looks of his hologram, titled Snoke (created by motion-capture performer Andy Serkis), who serves as the order’s supreme leader. His apprentice is Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), who with his black cloak and facemask resembles the man he adulates: the original trilogy’s villain, Darth Vader. Ren’s origin story is one of the film’s big twists, and its shock value almost rivals that of the narrative reveal in Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, namely the relationship between Luke and Darth Vader.

The screenplay, co-written by director J.J. Abrams along with Episode V scribe Lawrence Kasdan and Little Miss Sunshine writer Michael Arndt, marks a pleasant departure from the Lucas tradition of bad sci-fi screenwriting. While the opening line of the series in Episode I was the detached and uninspiring “Captain … tell them we wish to board at once”, Episode VII gives us Max von Sydow as Lor San Tekka, an elder on Jakku who is helping the resistance. We meet him and the young pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) in the middle of the night at a secret meeting where Tekka speaks the first words while handing Poe a small object: “This will begin to make things right.”

In a way, Tekka’s words are applicable to the entire film, which obviously sought to right the ship after Lucas had tarnished his own brand, and Episode VII’s determination to stay close to the original trilogy pays off handsomely. The desert planet of Jakku calls to mind Luke’s home planet of Tatooine; the inside of a bar on Takodana, a planet so verdant it leads Rey to exclaim she never knew there existed so much green in the entire galaxy, looks a lot like the notorious Mos Eisley cantina from Episode IV; and the First Order’s callous, indiscriminate annihilation of entire planets obviously references the Death Star’s destruction of Princess Leia’s Alderaan.

And speaking of Leia, who is now a general, actress Carrie Fischer’s scenes with Harrison Ford — who reprises his role as Han, the galactic cargo smuggler and proud pilot of the Millennium Falcon — have a breathtaking poignancy to them that nonetheless eschews easy sentimentality. Naturally, those who are familiar with the original trilogy will take away much more from these scenes than those who are not, but the honesty of the characters and their deep connection to each other make for some of the most powerful moments in the entire film.

The two other characters whose return is much anticipated are the two droids, C3PO and R2D2, although even diehard fans would be hard-pressed to ignore the loveable new addition, BB-8, which consists of an orange ball that rolls and acts as the “body”, with a small, mobile, domelike structure on top that functions as the head. It is an astonishing feat that we sometimes forget that this droid is merely a machine, and even though it does not have any facial expressions, its sounds and movements are enough to communicate exactly what it is “feeling”.

Whether the faces we see belong to humans, droids or other creatures we recognise from earlier instalments, the moments in which they are revealed are as striking as they should be. It is like a quick blow to the chest when you unexpectedly see an old friend again, and even the appearance of the Millennium Falcon will have this effect on the viewer who watches the film as a longtime fan.

In general, as Abrams did with his reboot of the Star Trek franchise, the action appears to zip along at a much more dynamic pace than was the case with the original films, admittedly made for a pre-MTV, non-ADHD generation. There is never a dull moment in this film, and even the rare examples of less-than-stellar dialogue or overacting, usually featuring Boyega, are kept to a minimum.

This episode is better than at least three (some might even say all four) of the episodes that Lucas directed, and it is a very robust work of entertainment. Those who were mumbling “I have a bad feeling about this” had no reason to worry.