In letting go of its legacy, The Last Jedi becomes the first truly great Star Wars movie since The Empire Strikes Back.

The hotly anticipated return of the Star Wars franchise in 2015 yielded the confident, albeit comfortable The Force Awakens. Most would agree that J.J. Abrams’ Star Wars installment plays things relatively safe. It succeeded in introducing new characters like BB-8, Rey, Finn, and Poe Dameron, all of whom quickly became fan favorites. There was an indisputable excitement in seeing franchise staples like Princess Leia, C-3PO, and Han Solo on screen again. Moreover, it gave audiences the lightsaber battles and space wars they love.

For all that The Force Awakens did right, it’s difficult to ignore how the film is – for all intents and purposes – a retread of the exact same story audiences saw when the first Star Wars film was released in 1977. Sure, this afforded the franchise a comfortable reboot; however, all that was fresh and new about the film felt weighed down by the Star Wars legacy. Everything in The Force Awakens exists inside the framework of the original franchise, constrained by the ongoing Skywalker-Solo family drama.

With The Last Jedi, the franchise finally tore down the constraints that have for so long dictated the story, reinventing the series for the better. Beware, spoilers abound!

The Force: Not just for Jedi

For all of the storytelling that Star Wars has done over the decades, the franchise has done very little with overall development of the Force. You’re far more likely to hear a character say, “May the force be with you,” than actually use the force in any meaningful way. For all intents and purposes, the force has existed as a rather unattainable element that only exists for a small group of people.

The original and prequel trilogies both emphasized the preeminence of the Jedi, mythologizing their strengths and talents. We are accustomed to seeing them use the force in various although limited ways; physically moving objects (or people…), enhancing the power of suggestion, and communicate from long distances.

However, in regarding the Force as a tool reserved for the Jedi, it becomes a rather inaccessible element within the story. This hierarchy has, of course, always been in direct contrast with the moral of the story. If Star Wars is about overthrowing oppressive regimes, the exclusivity of the Force reflects a serious contradiction within this universe far, far away.

Until now, this contradiction was rarely addressed, but Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi takes it on with confidence and resolve. The film not only shows the Force used in new ways, but it breaks down the wall that has for too long separated the Force from those that need it most. When Luke Skywalker asks Rey what the Force is, she replies that it is something that allows Jedi to “move rocks.” Her delivery will no doubt inspire a bit of laughter from audiences, but her response reflects the way Star Wars has treated the Force; we’re accustomed to seeing it played up as a party trick, a skill to be used in combat.

Luke clarifies that the Force is not just a skill reserved for the Jedi, but an energy that runs through everything in the entire universe, connects all people, animals, and things. Luke goes on to condemn the Jedi for their exclusivity, telling Rey that the Force was never the Jedi’s to control or own.

This is a distinct step forward for the story, one that sheds the skin of a legacy that has defined Star Wars since its inception. The mythos surrounding both the Jedi and the Force has, for too long, been a central piece of the storytelling in the franchise. The Last Jedi demonstrates a maturation of the series vision at its inception.

This new message makes moments in The Last Jedi so much more exciting and powerful to behold. Take the conversations between Rey and Kylo Ren as an example; this is the Force as we have never seen it before. It allows their relationship to build in a compelling way, made all the more interesting by the subtle exchange of power that is so central to their dynamic. Their connection to one another is facilitated by their connection to the Force.

In another scene, we see General Organa (Princess Leia now a distinctly outdated title) floating in space after an attack on her ship killed her crew. For a brief moment, it seems that Leia may be dead, but using the Force, she pulls herself back inside the ship to safety. This moment has drawn a bit of criticism from those fans preoccupied with the “rules” of how the Force can and should be used. However, these criticisms reflect little more than an outdated mentality that would prefer to see the Force used in traditional ways, or in other words, by Jedi.

This moment reflects not only the inspired creative heights of Johnson’s The Last Jedi, but also taps into the raw cinematic power of the franchise itself. It doesn’t matter if this moment is impractical; it’s a thematically resonant, visually commanding, deeply cathartic moment that reclaims the exclusivity of the Force.

The choice to take the Force and give it back to the people is especially prescient at a time when the social and political disenfranchisement around the world is particularly evident. It took nine installments in the series for the Star Wars franchise to finally articulate the power and purpose of the Force in a way that feels truly inspiring, but it was well worth the wait.

Actions finally have consequences

One of the recurring gags in the Star Wars series, one that even found its way into The Last Jedi, is C-3PO reminding his friends how incredibly low their odds of succeeding are. Of course, the only reason C-3PO needs to remind them is because they usually hatch some extraordinarily obscure plan for saving themselves or rescuing one another. This is one of the trademarks of the Star Wars franchise.

As far back as the first installment in 1977, the Rebel’s plan for blowing up the Death Star hinged on their ability to blow up a vulnerable exhaust port behind the weapon’s defenses. This is just one example in a long series of hairy situations that our protagonists escape by the skin of their teeth, through plans that have no right to succeed, but they do. From the escape from the trash compactor and the rescue of Han and Leia from Jabba the Hutt, to the escape from Hoth and the destruction of a shield generator on Endor, our Rebels are constantly making plans and succeeding against all odds.

The Last Jedi takes this trend and delivers it with far different results. After Leia’s injury, Admiral Holdo is put in charge. Poe, vehemently disagreeing with Holdo’s plan for protecting the Rebel Alliance, embarks on an entirely separate, rogue mission with Finn and Rose to disable to First Order’s tracking device.

The mission follows all of the usual conventions that we are accustomed to seeing; secrecy and deception, unforeseeable obstacles, and dangerous circumstances. Finn and Rose travel to Canto Bight to track down a hacker. They manage to find a hacker and break into the First Order ship, but they are captured at the last minute. Their plan to save the Rebel Alliance fails.

However, it is not enough for their plan to fail. The Last Jedi takes it one step further and makes the plan the very reason for why the Rebel Alliance ends up suffering massive losses. The hacker they recruit to help them ends up turning on them, revealing Admiral Holdo’s plan to the First Order. Holdo’s plan, one that might have saved the Rebel Alliance, ends in heavy casualties.

This subversion of tradition reflects The Last Jedi’s refreshing approach to the Star Wars universe. It is not beholden to the storytelling tropes that have governed the franchise since its inception. Quite the opposite: it seeks to overthrow those tropes, surprising the audience by upping the stakes more than we ever have before. The threat of decimation, of loss, has never been as strong as it is in The Last Jedi. It is one of the first times in the franchise where the survival of our heroes does not feel guaranteed.

That so many of their losses come as a direct consequence to the decisions made by our heroes is all the more devastating. It reflects a distinct departure from the franchises legacy of rewarding heroes for their half-baked, against-all-odds plans. The Last Jedi understands consequences and is intent on making those consequences integral to the story, even if it means resetting the legacy of the franchise.

Deconstructing the Chosen One

If you look to any successful (or even unsuccessful) franchise in recent memory, you’re likely to discover the Chosen One trope. For too long, this trope has dictated our storytelling. There is a certain appeal from the comfort that stems from the Chosen One narrative. The idea that there exists one individual who can solve our problems is reassuring, even if it is a load of B.S.

The Force Awakens played heavily into this trope, setting up what seemed like another Chosen One arc. It introduced us to Rey, a character with a mysterious history – abandoned by her parents, but waiting for them to return. Her innate skill in handling the Force contributed strongly to this narrative. The final shot of the film, with Rey on an island standing in front of Luke Skywalker holding his lightsaber, resonated with nostalgic sentiment. Was Rey the next Skywalker? Was she to follow in Luke’s footsteps?

The Last Jedi answered those questions with a clear and resounding no. In the first act of the film, we see Luke take his lightsaber back and immediately throw it away, casting any sentiment aside as abruptly as possible. As Rey implores Luke to return to help the Rebels and be the hero they need, the film slowly takes apart Luke’s legacy piece by piece. We learn more of Luke’s own faults, his struggle with and against power both internally and externally.

But the movie is not simply concerned with deconstructing Luke’s own mythos, but the mythos of heroes in general. Luke himself emphasizes the importance in not mythologizing individuals for the sake of idol worship.

Take for example the introduction of Rose Tico. She appears for the first time as Finn is trying to steal an escape pod to get away from both the Rebel Alliance and the threatening First Order. At first, Rose is in awe of Finn and calls him a hero. Only minutes later, after realizing Finn’s attempted escape, she is disillusioned to his status as a hero. It’s a small arc that operates as a sort of thesis for the film’s perspective of heroes.

The film also answers the question of Rey’s lineage. No, she is not a Skywalker. No, she’s not of any family we’ve known or seen before. She is quite simply a nobody and in that there is a deep and stirring poeticism. The Last Jedi is keenly aware of how audiences have been trained to expect the Chosen One narrative, so in subverting those expectations it succeeds in breaking new ground and shedding a large piece of the franchise’s legacy.

The Last Jedi sets forth a rousing populist agenda, calling for change to come not from a sole hero, leader, or savior, but rather from the collective community of disadvantaged and disenfranchised. It posits that heroism is not a trait worthy of worship or veneration, but a standard by which to be measured.

Fans remember the image at the end of the 1977 Star Wars where Luke, Han Solo, and Chewbacca stood on a stage and received medals, draped over their shoulders by Princess Leia as a crowd looked on with admiration. There is a distinct contrast between this image and the closing images of The Last Jedi.

First, we see a slow pan on the group of Rebels, small but determined, beleaguered but not defeated. They are, by very virtue of their actions deemed heroes. There are no medals, no ceremonies to applaud their accomplishments; there is only the next battle and the battle after that and the battle after that. The Last Jedi is a film that understands the unending and enduring plight of the oppressed and it seeks to make that struggle matter. In a franchise that has time and time again disregarded the complexity in favor of textbook heroes, this is a masterful feat.

Finally, we see a young boy on Canto Bight holding a broom as though it were a lightsaber looking up into the stars. The whole universe stretched out in front of him with a million possibilities open to him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the Chosen One; what matters is that he be willing to join the cause, to fight for what’s right, and to believe in the power of the people.

The Last Jedi sheds the burdensome and outdated legacy that has defined Star Wars for decades and makes a powerful statement on where this franchise could go in the years to come.