The Problematic Life of Satine Kryze

Her headdress is so big because it’s full of contradictions.

I’ve spoken in the past about my mixed up Mandalore feelings. I really do like the planet- but only when it changes. Only when it is a place that actively evolves and acknowledges its own flaws.

And it has some flaws. We see the war torn landscape, the violent tribalism, the emphasis on clan loyalty over the common good, the way years of conflict have torn the planet apart. We also see the beautiful strength of families, the emphasis put on tradition, justice, and art. It’s easy to see how people raised in the worst of Mandalore’s feuds might come to resent those traditions, while people who saw a better side of them might cling to them. This is very realistic. No traditional culture comes without its problems, and those who see those problems the closest are often the loudest critics of their own traditions.

Satine saw Mandalore’s wars at a very young age. She was forced on the run, without her family. We don’t get many details about exactly what went down, but it doesn’t seem to have been especially pretty if the Jedi were needed to protect her. The fact that the Jedi were called in at all, on a notable anti-Jedi planet, says a lot about the direction her clan and family were going. They clearly had ties to the Republic, and were willing to forswear their own people to gain protection from… well, their own people.

From the get-go, that’s messy as hell.

The Doomed, the Living, and The Multi-Era Story Telling of Star Wars

I have an issue taking Thrawn seriously.

It’s not the character himself. He’s just competent enough to be threatening and just smug enough for me to want him to get beaten into a intellectual smear. (I understand some people actually root for him, which confuses me on a spiritual level, but you keep on trucking.) No, it’s the fact that I already know how this story is going to end, and not in a fun way.

Thrawn is a flagship character. They’re already giving him a comic book, and more books. They’re not going to kill him off in a cartoon, Dave Filoni has all but admitted this. The most I can hope for is a very solid emotional defeat.

At the same time, he’s not around for the first trilogy, or much of the material that follows it, which suggests something does happen to him. There’s a weird certainty that somewhere between these two extremes is Thrawn’s fate, and honestly it’s kind of taking the fun out of it.

The same is true of Hera Syndulla. She lives, or at least becomes a very solid ghost on the Ghost, making fun of Han Solo and showing up in background scenes. While this is deeply reassuring and was a delight to discover in real time, it also rather spoils the game. I can predict with some certainty what happens to her, which makes the climatic ending of the most recent Star Wars Rebels episode a bit off-beat.

It wasn’t always like this. I enjoyed the prequels a lot, even though I knew what was going to happen. There was more room to guess and play along, and less Disney dropping videos on me at one am in the morning to spoil things. Some elements were set in stone, but there was still an air of mystery and excitement.

Maybe I’ve just gotten too old for the story telling conventions of Star Wars, or maybe the rate at which the mystery boxes are unraveled is too fast for me to keep up anymore. When one gets to a certain age, one learns how to read narrative conventions and it becomes much easier to predict the outcome of stories. The rise of social media and entertainment news hasn’t helped matters either. When I watched the Phantom Menace- or more specifically read the novelization and stared longingly at the pictures because certain well meaning forces in my family didn’t think the prequels were any good- I didn’t have the slightest idea who Natalie Portman was or how her career trajectory might impact future Star Wars movies. I barely processed that the voice of Darth Vader was also in the Lion King. I could enjoy everything as it washed over me, blissfully free of critical thinking or any awareness of the pressures surrounding the movie making process.

Now they’re on my news feed every day. Take the case of Carrie Fisher, who was so recently taken from us too soon. I knew within hours, and so did the rest of the media. The vultures descended quickly, ready to speculate over how this would impact films after the forthcoming The Last Jedi. People, in their mourning, wanted answers. And Disney provided.

In many ways this is a good thing. It eases the pain, allows the movie hype to continue during those long months between feature film releases, and prevents any unfortunate misconceptions that could otherwise mislead or upset people. But is this influx of information too much? Does the constant stream of news and mini-spoilers and behind the scenes information and speculation really ruin the fun?

On one level it is exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, I lived a fairly intensive Star Wars life for a few years of my youth. There was a shared playground in the communal backyard of one of the houses I lived in, and the only thing that united all of the children that played on it was that we all owned very old plastic lightsabers. We played Star Wars a lot. In a lot of ways it was a preparation for the constant inundation of online Star Wars fan circles. However simple reinterpretation of the text is very different from the deluge of canon modern fans are getting. Every few months, an new season, a new movie, a new comic book, a new novel. It is non-stop Star Wars inundation. One press tour bleeds into another without room to take a breath.

It’s not the amount of information itself either. Because of the unique, multi-era system of Star Wars story telling, new information can be revealed from different decades at the same time. Each new revelation impacts the other and sometimes there are spoilers. Some are simple; Anakin turns to the Dark Side, Luke goes and lives on an island, the Jedi Order falls. Spoilers, or at least an understanding of the plot, have been scientifically proven to be positive. Too many of them, however, and the audience (especially those who need more engagement out of their stories) risks becoming apathetic to the characters and their plight.

Let’s look at some examples of how Disney has handled specific cases of multi-era storytelling, and how they’ve tried to keep audiences invested despite going in the face of storytelling convention by telling you ahead of time who lives and who dies.

Thrawn Is Terrified Of The Force, Guys

In the recent episode, “Flight of the Defender” Force Sensitive, openly Jedi Ezra and Mandalorian genius-but-non-wizard Sabine steal a TIE Defender, leaving Thrawn to try to spin it in his favor. As he does, he makes a point of figuring out who is flying the ship (Ezra), and then he makes a rather interesting comment on their flight capabilities. He says, “If someone of Ezra Bridger’s modest skill can best three trained pilots, our new fighter will give us an overwhelming advantage against the rebels.” Emphasis on the “modest skill”.

This is a wild thing to say. He knows this boy is a Jedi, or at least Jedi adjacent. He just watched him successfully run circles around a squad of the Empire’s best and brightest in a crowded shipyard, even if he did so in a dorky manner. Thrawn has every reason to recognize that the Bridger boy is a threat in his own right, and yet he discounts him almost instantly.

While this might seem like one small miscalculation on Thrawn’s part, underestimating the power of the Force is a trend with him. He focuses almost solely on Hera and Sabine, the traditionally strategically trained members of the crew, and almost never mentions Kanan or Ezra  (or Zeb, but I suspect that’s more a function of Zeb’s perceived role in the group). He is caught completely off guard by the Jedi Bendu. He seems to have no cognizance of the immense natural Force potential of Lothal, the planet where he’s put his very important, very vulnerable factory.

Once would be a mistake. Twice; maybe Thrawn has a blind spot, we’re all sentients. But after seeing a godlike creature whip up a storm out of nowhere and cost him his successful invasion, he has no excuse to keep ignoring the importance of the Force as a factor when dealing with this particular Rebel cell.

Yet he continues to do so. Even after being confronted directly by the Jedi Bendu, shouting ominous prophecies at him, he shows no interest in researching the history of the Force or calling in more qualified reinforcements. There are definitely explanations for this. For one, information on the Jedi is probably pretty well locked down within the Empire. And as a non-human in such a bigoted organization with such a negative opinion of failure, he’d probably hesitate to turn to Darth Vader or another volatile Force-wielding backup. However, this is Thrawn we’re talking about. He prides himself on being well informed and one step ahead of the game. The fact that he consistently falls behind when it comes to the Jedi and the Force suggests only one thing.

He’s scared.

Rebellions Are Built On Hope: Why Star Wars Rebels Is Never Going To End On A Sour Note

Star Wars, for all its appeal and adult fans, is a story for children. It’s a fairytale with operatic overtones. Secret relatives abound, bad choices are very poorly thought out, actions have repercussions that reverberate through out the galaxy, dialogue can be stilted, emoting is big, the effects are always over the top, and ultimately the ending is never too harsh.

Bittersweet is the word that has always defined the ethos of Star Wars. The fall to the Dark Side might be tragic, the losses might be immense, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. We see that over and over again.

The Empire Strikes Back had the first  mixed ending, but even it was upbeat. Luke lost and hand and gained an evil relative but ended the movie with his friends at his side, staring out into the distance, determined to rescue Han and save the galaxy. We know he’s going to win, as people promised a trilogy do. It’s a shocking loss but not a permanent one. By Return of the Jedi he’s more jaded, his father dead and his path cloudy. We see him lighting a funeral pyre and walking away, back to his sister and the jubilant Rebellion. Leia and Han go through a similar arc of confusion and then reciprocation and joy. It’s a soft revelation, filmed in the intimate night instead of the bright daylight and wide spaces that defined the ending scene of A New Hope, and therefore it’s more measured. The happiness and hope for the future remains.

The prequels are more bleak, designed to mirror and subvert the architecture of the original trilogy. Attack of the Clones ends with a fruitless and morally ambiguous war and a marriage doomed to failure. Objectively it’s a good ending, the bitter undertones come from hindsight and closer observation. Revenge of the Sith is a blatant tragedy, as everything comes crashing down. However, even it makes a point to end on the suns of Tatooine and the hope for the future.

Star Wars has never been about tragedy, it’s been about hope in even the bleakest of times. Rogue One, the latest Star Wars movie, is a prime example. Everyone in that movie dies! But it still makes a point to make a hopeful story out of their deaths, and to push the Rebellion forward through their sacrifice.

With this precedent, I’m a little confused by all the articles insisting Star Wars Rebels is “building up to a major tragedy” or the many opinion pieces about how Kanan and Ezra absolutely need to die. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good sacrifice as much as the next viewer, but needless death isn’t the Star Wars way. When it comes to main characters, the Han Solos and Ashokas of the world, deaths need to mean something. More than that, there needs to be a dose of hope.

Speaking of Ahsoka, it’s important to remember that Star Wars animation has neglected to kill off leading inconvenient Jedi in the past. Ahsoka was once the target of the tragedy articles as well, people were convinced she was going to die before or during Order 66. At the time it seemed logical, The Clone Wars was the most adult series on, she was a Jedi in the line of fire, and it felt like a good sacrifice. What they underestimated was the hope factor. Instead of dying, Ahsoka left the Order, walked away into the sunset and lived to see more animated series. She may or may not be an owl at the moment.

In short, there are a lot of ways to escape the death sentence of being a Jedi. More than that, there’s no reason that “hard hitting” and “ending” have to equal a blood bath or some big disaster. Even if one does come to pass, it will be a motivation for the Rebellion to grow, a driving force for survivors, and a way to expand Star Wars lore.

There’s no point to making four seasons of a show just so you can drop a bunch of rocks on the main characters heads and let Thrawn kick back and relax. We already had our big dramatic loss of the series last season (and even that had a hopeful note in the continued defiance of the Bendu, the muster of Clan Wren, and Commander Sato’s sacrifice). There’s no point in another.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen as Season 4 draws to a close. I suspect it will be big and flashy (and unfortunately I do worry Kanan will die). I’m almost certain it will involve the living essence of the Force and Lothal in some mystical capacity. What I do know is that however it ends, it won’t be gratuitously sad or gory. That’s for other shows. This is Star Wars. If there’s going to be a dose of the bittersweet stuff, we’re going to get CGI Princess Leia, or Ahsoka walking away dramatically, or a shared moment of determination and comfort at the end. That’s the important part. The tragedy is great and all, but it’s the twin suns at the end that really make it count.

 

 

 

Mon Mothma: Representation, Aesthetics, and The Popularity of A Star Wars Staple

Mon Mothma was my favorite Star Wars character for a while, mostly because I didn’t have a lot of other options. Even though I grew up post-prequels, I was prevented from watching them for a while by well meaning but misguided forces in my household. That meant I was limited to the original trilogy on VHS.

Fun fact: Female representation in the OT isn’t great. You had Leia… and Leia. Sure, there was also Aunt Beru and Oola the silent dancing girl, but they weren’t thrilling options. I wanted more. I didn’t want to be a princess, I didn’t want Han Solo, I wanted to be someone else.

Mon Mothma might not have otherwise been my first choice. She had half a minute of screentime. I had to figure out her name from the novelization. But since I prevented from watching the prequels and getting what I really wanted (Padme, a fourteen year old queen and gunslinger), Mon Mothma had to do.

She was objectively pretty awesome. Her dress was shiny, she made a cool speech, and she was in charge. Not in the way Leia was in charge where sometimes people still bossed her around and she wasn’t allowed to wear a bra. Mon Mothma had total control. Despite the fact that she was a little too old to project onto, I still made it work.

How the New EU Fixed Mandalore, By Making It Flawed

Hot damn, have I come to love Mandalore. There’s something intoxicating about good worldbuilding. Worldbuilding that doesn’t just come with a conlang or a code of honor, but with a rich, realistic history. Worldbuilding with consequences.

Now in the past I’ve hesitated to pass judgement on Legends; it was before my time. I don’t understand it fully and I’ve never cared to learn. One of the reasons I only got into Star Wars in the last few years is that Legends was intimidating. There was a lot of lore to understand, and sometimes an unfortunate amount of gatekeeping going on.

But simply existing in a Star Wars space often means being inundated with Mandalorian fans. My early experiences on fan boards and with fan-interaction inevitably involved the one person with an intricate knowledge of Mandalorian culture and an OC who spoke mostly in difficult to translate made-up words strung together. Which, not to slam anyone’s jam, was not very interesting to me personally. I’m sure it was excellent for those often martially inclined Mandos, but for a kid coming into that space all the discussion of battle tactics and beskar armor was boring.

The more I learned about the fictional culture they so idolized, the less interested I was. Mandalorians read like someone trying to write a perfect place and instead just making a mildly unsettling one. The way some of the books seemed to raise up a group of people whose lifestyle was so centered around warfare was concerning to me. The emphasis on physicality was concerning to me. The weird cult-like following they had both in and out of universe and how no one seemed to question it was just plain creepy. Why were the Mandalorians that great? They just seemed like a bunch of bounty hunters, wrecking havoc for money and then retreating into their own sense of self-superiority. “Well at least we aren’t Jedi.” Excuse me, mister, but at least the Jedi aren’t constantly trying to wage war against the rest of the galaxy. At least the Jedi haven’t canonically had to be told, “no disintegrations”, like it’s some sort of bad habit. Cool your heels.

Eventually I realized a lot of my dislike of them was a result of being a disabled teen faced with something that by default ran off of “might makes right”, and that those fears weren’t universal. A lot of people enjoyed the idea of a martial and self-sufficient people with a dedication to their culture, living communally as families and governing themselves. This is understandable, it’s a comforting concept. The idea of being so awesome no one can touch you and living like some sort of space samurai is highly attractive. But no culture or system of governance is perfect and the rampant Mandalorian apologism I came up against was still concerning. Weirdly insular,  tradition bound, war-happy planets are going to be complicated. Everytime I tried to research Mandalorians I came across phrases like, “committing genocide” and “forcibly inducted“. Still, we got quotes like this one,

“You can’t rule Mandalorians. You just make sensible suggestions they want to follow. And since when have Mandalorians needed to be told what makes sense?”

This coming from a Boba Fett, who did work for an Empire which committed even more, unrelated to the above, genocide.

That’s not to say people aren’t allowed to enjoy Mandalorians. Even the super monastic, detached Jedi had fundamental flaws, and they did everything in their power to avoid being vulnerable to emotions. The ultra-attached, clannish Mandalorians never stood a chance. Flaws are what makes us human, horrible mistakes are a part of every history, and no group is above scrutiny. It was when I started seeing that reflected that I finally began to get invested in Mandalore.