Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker does the job. It wraps up the trio of trilogies begun in 1977 in a confident, soothingly predictable way, doing all that cinematically possible to avoid poking the bear otherwise known as tradition-minded quadrants of the “Star Wars” fan base.
It’s impossible to imagine that “The Rise of Skywalker” won’t do huge business, even though it’s merely good, not great, and though there’s a growing sense around the galaxy that Star Wars fatigue has set in.
The Rise of Skywalker offers us nothing but toadying supplication to the worst aspects of fan culture. There is no story to tell here, no characters to care about, no ideas to explore. The film is pure construct, a box built for its own sake, at long last opened with excruciating listlessness, revealing nothing but its own vapid emptiness.
Like trying to watch a drive thru Christmas light show at 60 miles per hour, this movie was jarring and hard to follow. By trying to please everyone, the movie ended up pleasing no one. The story makes little sense and is disconnected with its Disney predecessors.
I wanted to like the film, but I left the theater feeling conflicted. I will not be watching it again.