"The Force Awakens" Feels Like Classic "Star Wars"

Importantly, Force Awakens gets the new characters right.

So I finally saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens and I have a lot of thoughts. Generally, I’ll admit I really enjoyed the movie. J.J. Abrams and the creative team delivered the film that fans have been clamoring for over the last three decades but that they were denied by the piss-poor prequels. This one is leaps and bounds above those films, and while it’s not really on par with the first trilogy, it’s tightly edited, expertly cast and entertaining as hell.

The Force Awakens basically follows the standard sequel escalation protocol – do what worked before, but go bigger. I mean that very literally. Once again, the bad guys have a planet-destroying base, causing one character to ask “So, it’s another Death Star?” I can’t remember the exact response, but it goes something like, “Sort of, but this one is like way, way bigger,” which is accompanied by a hologram showing the disparity and a lot of gulps from the people standing around. I’m not exactly sure why – since both the Death Star and this Starkiller Base do the exact same thing, you’d think the size would be pretty inconsequential. I guess one destroys worlds harder than the other.

Luckily Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is at this meeting, and he cuts past all the size mumbo jumbo, saying “How do we blow it up? There's always a way to do that.” And low-and-behold there is, and it’s basically the same exact vulnerability that brought down the empire in A New Hope and Return of the Jedi. So, everything’s bigger, but the same flaws persist.

The same could be said of the movie, which is basically a retread of A New Hope, with dashes of Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi sprinkled throughout. As a general rule, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – I recently wrote glowingly of Creed, a movie that does something very similar – but, while that film utilized a familiar construct to fully explore new themes and affecting character dynamics, The Force Awakens mostly trades in nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake.

I won’t lie – I love a great deal of the fanboy service, and I’ll happily revisit this world every year, especially if it feels this lived-in and emotionally resonant (more on that in a minute). But ultimately, I can’t help but feel the whole thing is pretty derivative. In a universe defined in the hearts of fans by its inventiveness and possibilities, we keep bouncing back to the same plot points about the same family in which everything paradoxically boils down to destiny. Rey (Daisy Ridley) may or may not have Skywalker blood running through her, but Kylo Ren definitely does, and it just makes the whole Star Wars universe seem so small. If Finn (John Boyega) winds up being the son of Lando Calrissian or a descendent of Mace Windu – basically the only other black characters in this series to date – it’s going to be hella annoying.

But setting aside these issues, I rather enjoyed The Force Awakens. I do think the film could’ve benefited from slowing down to breathe and allow some character moments, and that it was an emotionally dishonest misstep to have Leia (Carrie Fisher) hug Rey instead of Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) at the end. But, despite my moaning about the derivative nature of the story, I do appreciate some of the symmetry in play here – as with A New Hope, The Force Awakens contains a lovable droid with a secret message, a hero from a desert planet with mysterious parentage, and a mentor who is struck down by a villain he raised. This makes the movements of the film predictable, but not necessarily in an unenjoyable way.

Because, it needs to be said, when the film delivers, it really, really delivers. Abrams taps into the excitement that defined this world in the original trilogy, and even better, he replicates the feeling that the characters inhabiting it haven’t been created for this story, but instead have been living fully-realized lives. We’ve been plopped into this adventure in media res and there’s a strong feeling that, even though we’re mostly trading in stock archetypes with these characters, nearly all of them have distinct personalities, emotions, histories and motivations. That makes things a lot more refreshing and engrossing than the prequels where everyone was basically a plot-serving automaton.

Harrison Ford doesn't sleepwalk through the film.

Rey and Finn are great characters to spin these movies around, not only because the fact that a woman and a black man are heading up a franchise like this is undeniably thrilling, but also because they are a lot of fun and the actors are unknowns that totally own their roles and have dynamite chemistry (I’ve long held that Abrams’ greatest strength as a filmmaker is his keen casting ability, and that’s extremely true here).

Rey is endearing, self-sufficient and resourceful and while nitpickers are arguing she’s a Mary Sue character (i.e. wish-fulfillment perfection), that’s just some horseshit, because nobody would be saying it if she was a man. Yes, she’s preternaturally good at everything she tries, from flying ships, to wielding light sabers, to controlling the force. She’s “the chosen one” archetype we’ve seen lead every film in this series, not to mention other popular films like Harry Potter and The Matrix, except this time she’s a girl. Have problems with that genre staple by all means, but it would be unfair to dwell on it here since the protagonist is a woman. I, for one, find it a refreshing change of pace.

Finn, meanwhile, is a Storm Trooper with a conscious, a self-interested antihero that initially isn’t so much about doing good as he is about not doing bad. Although he also seems preternaturally skilled with a light saber (although, to be fair, the film does show Rey expertly wielding a staff to subdue attackers early on and Storm Troopers fighting with light saber-like riot gear), he’s much less skilled than Rey, getting by mostly on luck and pluck. He’s basically a Han Solo type without the rapscallion nature and ace flying skills. Put a little more accurately, he’s basically a Ron Weasley type, or, depending on how things develop with his and Rey’s stories, maybe a Samwise Gamgee type.

I love that this role (and the role of Rey) could really be any sex or gender, but since Finn is played by a black guy, there is possibly something to his race on the thematic level. While I wouldn’t go as far as this writer, the fact is that the film gives us a black man rising up and fighting against the constructs placed upon him from birth. With the current state of racial relations and misunderstandings, that’s a noteworthy thing for a major blockbuster to do.

There are other great characters as well. BB-8 is perfectly adorable, and although he’s probably the most prequely character of the bunch since he’s just a stock good guy with no back story, the sheer force of charisma the great Oscar Issac brings to the table makes Poe Dameron far better than any hero we got into those entries. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren is basically what George Lucas wanted Anakin Skywalker to be in the prequels – petulant, whiny, flawed, corrupted and (here’s the difference) compelling. He has an undeniably interesting dynamic with every single one of the good guys besides Poe, which should be a landmine for drama in future installments.

And then, of course, there are the standbys from the first trilogy. Carrie Fisher and (especially) Mark Hamill are glorified cameos, but Harrison Ford brings a lot more energy than I would’ve expected. He carries the emotional weight of the film, forging powerful moments with each of the three main newbies before making his exit from the series.

So that’s my thoughts on The Force Awakens. It gets most of the important things right, and, excitingly, three of the four main roles moving forward are played by a woman, a black man, and a Latino man respectively, which I’m thinking has to be some sort of groundbreaking. While I would have preferred something a bit fresher, The Force Awakens is a strong start that has me excited for future outings, especially considering their being written and directed by a vibrant talent like Rian Johnson. B+

'42' Hits Heart Strings, But Relies Too Heavily on Violin Strings

What 42 inherently has going for it is a truly amazing story of one man whose emergence into baseball proved crucial to the desegregation and eventual racial integration within baseball and other professional sports. Not to be isolated, this one man’s story served as both a beacon of hope and unforgettable example of that seemingly unattainable “what could be.” It is the type of story that powers itself, practically writing itself.

It is likely that director Brian Helgeland didn’t quite believe in that power or underestimated it to the point of needing or wanting compensation. While the movie has a few good moments – mostly powered by good acting – it suffers from relying too overtly on occasionally cheesy scenes and heavy violin strings.

At one point during the cinematic version of Jackie Robinson’s gradual acceptance as a member of the Brooklyn Dodgers – by his teammates, fans, the league and the rest of the country – star shortstop Pee Wee Reese tries to show support for Robinson in front of his hometown Kentucky fans when the team travels to play the Cincinnati Reds. As Reese wraps his arm around Robinson, boos gradually become more and more audible. Those boos provide a powerful soundtrack, one that Robinson and just about every African-American baseball player who followed in his footsteps had to hear and deal with throughout their careers. However, the boos are quickly replaced by the loud overpowering of violin strings and music meant to represent the Dodgers’ growing acceptance of their star player.

Although Helgeland’s decision is interesting and makes some sense, it wraps too nice of a bow around what, in the long run, was a really a subtle, gradual win for a person who still had many battles to go before he was accepted. And, more importantly, it underestimates just how powerful it is to see two unlikely comrades sharing a moment in an unlikely and difficult time and place.

Chadwick Boseman, right, is pretty good in 42 as Jackie Robinson. Harrison Ford is OK as not-Harrison Ford.

Whereas some of the soundtrack and script decisions seem a little heavy-handed and unearned, the movie is considerably boosted by solid acting, especially in some of the smaller character roles. Chadwick Boseman does a solid job of portraying the revolutionary Robinson, impressively capturing his transition from confident Negro League player to reluctant icon to baseball hero. He handles the job well enough to make one wonder how much better of a job he would have done had he been given more to do. Nicole Beharie, as Jackie’s wife Rachel, does a similarly fine job. Andre Holland, as baseball writer and Robinson’s guide Wendell Smith, does an excellent job of both painting the edges of the Robinson story and also hosting his own mini-integration story as a journalist not allowed in the press box due to the color of his skin and despite his talent.

The true standouts of this film, though, are Christopher Meloni and Alan Tudyk, who take reasonably small roles and hit them out of the park. As Dodgers manager Leo Durocher, Meloni takes his trademark ability to play angry and develops it into a character hardheaded enough to lead a rowdy baseball team but focused enough to motivate his players to embrace racial integration. He develops this hardheaded into a character so likeable that the audience feels a shot in the gut when Durocher gets suspended for having an affair and, thus, can’t help Robinson in his first year on the Dodgers. Tudyk plays the outspokenly racist Ben Chapman, manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, depicted along with the entire city as among the most bigoted in baseball. Tudyk is a chameleon of voice and personality who takes considerable advantage of his assets here by depicting both the power of the prevailing opinion and shocking realization that this manner of thinking is quickly disintegrating, evident when a fellow Dodger walks over to the Phillies’ bench and tells the manager off. Although the character’s racism is over-the-top, Tudyk’s portrayal is not, showing the audience the worst of the worst while still allowing for believability. Character actors Toby Huss as the scout who signs Robinson and Brett Cullen as the manager of the minor league affiliate Montreal Royals also do impressive jobs.

Alan Tudyk, as racist Phillies manager Ben Chapman, is amazing in this movie, as well as everything he has ever been in.

As Branch Rickey, Harrison Ford walks a line between being believable and becoming a cartoon. Although Ford makes some of his actions and decisions seem forced or misplays some of Rickey’s intentions, the greatest success is that the character is decisively not Harrison Ford-esque, lacking the gruff, bullying undertones usually present in most of his roles.

The movie does a pretty good job of showing his teammates’ gradual acceptance of Robinson, often due to his outstanding play and via various methods, including choosing not to be traded, the aforementioned arm-around-neck gesture by Pee Wee Reese (which may or may not have happened) and, in one instance, inviting him to be part of their post-game shower routine.

The film version of this statue is pretty cheesy.

As a baseball fan, I probably would have liked to see more baseball action, possibly more evidence of the defensive prowess he was known for at just about every position he tried. Even his offense shown was considerably one-sided, really only showing home runs and base stealing ability. This could have possibly been done by making some scenes a little shorter. They could have also cut some of the fat, such as a scene where a child curiously observes Robinson on the field and then mimics his dad’s racist comments; it is, without a doubt, a very interesting snapshot of how racism spread but could easily be sacrificed to show us more about the player. However, it is pretty plain that this movie was not made solely for baseball fans, but for all viewers interested in seeing how Robinson became an iconic identity associated with successful racial integration.