Jack of Harts

I saw The Last Jedi on Friday.

It was a good movie. A good drama. And it was nothing like the Star Wars I grew up with.

Some of that we expected. Disney has certainly chosen to bury most of the Star Wars stories I grew up with. They wanted to go their own way, to be free to make new stories unfettered by those already written. They also, it appears, did not wish to make Star Wars stories.

The Star Wars stories I grew up with was witty heroes with quips and fancy flying and blowing that Popsicle stand before going home to celebrate their win with a stirring ceremony and a fun after party. It was Saturday morning serials full of adventure and daring do.

The Last Jedi is none of this. It is drama. It is good drama. But exciting (and adventurous) reading it is not.

I watch a lot of movies. I enjoy most of them. I left the Prequels happy and joyful. Even the last one that was the darkest of the lot. And even if JJ Abrams can’t figure out Star Trek to save his life, I love his Star Trek movies as a different take on the whole idea. Not a one of his movies has failed to leave me happy that I saw it. Happy to leave the theatre and talk about what I just saw. I’m generally pretty easy to please when it comes to movies. Especially action adventure or sci-fi movies.

But the Last Jedi left me feeling sad. Thoughtful. Depressed. I go to movies to be entertained. To have fun. To walk out happy to have spent some time and money on something I enjoyed seeing.

I am not happy to have spent my time and money watching The Last Jedi.