J.J. Abrams’ job as co-writer and director of a new Star Wars trilogy is, to understate the facts, a daunting one. It’s like curating a Bruce Springsteen set list: You need enough new material to keep the brand modern, enough old classics to satisfy the casual fans, and enough obscurities to pacify the cultists. To this casual fan’s eyes—It’s been a good 15 years since I’ve seen the original trilogy, and I declined to subject my cerebrum to Episodes II and III—Abrams has done more than a yeoman’s job at reviving the brand. “The Force Awakens,” which is expected to shatter worldwide box office records, is up against virtually unattainable expectations, but Abrams’ ability to situate his series as both a reboot and homage is an admirable feat of many-tentacled dexterity.
I must admit that at yesterday’s press screening, as soon as the iconic John Williams theme music started up, and the yellow text scrolled upward from the bottom of the screen toward the cosmic abyss, I felt a Pavlovian pang: The story hadn’t even started yet, but it was already apparent we were in faithful hands.
The text informs us that, 30 years after the events of “Return of the Jedi,” Luke Skywalker has been missing in action, during which time Princess Leia has been searching the galaxy for his whereabouts. The First Order, a dark, dictatorial force spreading its powerful influence across the cosmos, also seeks the missing Jedi. The rest of the galaxy is governed by the benign Republic, which has inspired a militant subsect, known as the Resistance, which aims to topple the First Order.
Abrams wastes no time plunging us into an environment that feels simultaneously new and familiar. Resistance pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) is dispatched by Leia to collect what appears to be a map leading to Luke’s location. He receives the information, which arrives in the size of a zip drive by a nomadic-looking Max Von Sydow, and he stores it inside BB-8, his adorable pet droid. He’s promptly captured by the First Order’s Kylo Ren (Adam Driver)—the film’s Darth Vader-like masked marauder—and is rescued thanks to Finn (John Boyega), a rogue Stormtrooper who has defected from the dark side.
They soon join forces with Rey (Daisy Ridley), the humble but hardy scavenger on the desert planet Jakku who discovers BB-8, and the battle lines are drawn: Each side has part of the Luke map and needs information from the other to complete it, but only one contingent is stocked with thermo-solar weapons that make our original nuclear bombs look like firecrackers. Domhnall Gleeson, whose character leads the primary base of the First Order, commands his army with Nazi-like tyranny, and from the organization’s logo to the Stormtroopers’ hand gestures, it’s clear that the First Order is meant to trigger associations with the Third Reich.
These are lot of new characters to absorb quickly, but Abrams’ breezy delivery as a storyteller keeps it digestible, thanks in part to the comfortable ambience. The dialogue, the settings and the general cinematic texture conjure the organic original series far more than the sleek, digital emptiness of the more recent prequels. The lyrics may be different, but the song remains the same.
I won’t spoil the ecstasy that surrounds the first appearances of Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill, but know that, contrary to some speculation, they’re not ancillary characters included in cameos to satiate sci-fi geeks; at least one of them is in “The Force Awakens” for most of the picture. But it’s also fair to say that Abrams is indeed passing the torch of Star Wars heroism to a new generation of characters. To Finn and Rey, Luke and Han Solo are the stuff of myth—legends whom they thought existed only in folktales. It’s a neat way to subtextually characterize George Lucas’ pioneering creations, which have established a rather mythic status in our collective cultural consciousness.
If any fault lies with this solid crowd-pleaser, it’s that, as the pieces of this busy galactic chessboard align, Abrams succumbs to plot devices and genre mechanics that border on the creaky. Like many a Marvel movie, its lead-up—and the jokey interludes between the explosions—are more interesting than the special-effects phantasmagorias that ensue. Every bit of the film’s $200 million budget is on display, being detonated and blown up and light-sabered, our eardrums be damned.
We’re in an ADD-addled time, when the directors of big-tent blockbusters think they have no choice but to overwhelm us with special effects. In that sense, there may never be another Star Wars that truly matches the lo-fi charms of the pre-CGI originals. But as long as Abrams continues to lead us to a galaxy far, far away, I’ll follow.
