At cinemas nationwide now.
Billed as a darker, grittier spin off from the central thread of the Star Wars franchise, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story came loaded with promise. A talented young director, fresh off the back of making a decent fist of rebooting another beloved property; a hugely impressive cast, perhaps the best yet assembled of all the films to date; the assurance of a fresh, spiky, unruly take on George Lucas’ iconic universe, after the cosy, safe return to basics that was The Force Awakens.
The additional influences are there to see. There are snatches of the intensity of war films like Saving Private Ryan and Apocalypse Now. The spectre of real-life political strife hovers over scenes in the Jedi ‘Holy Land’ of Jeddha, featuring Forest Whitaker’s guerilla band of space-Mujahideen. Lucas’ original love of Far-Eastern cinema is acknowledged in the form of Donnie Yen’s blind Jedi, Chirrut; a direct reference to the classic Samurai tales of Zatoichi.
Sadly, Rogue One is as boiled in nostalgia and fan-service as Episode VII. So much so in fact, that all the extra spice that was promised utterly fails to materialise. What is left is the product of a committee of cooks keeping the product as wholesome as possible to the most deadened of palates. The links to the original film are highlighted at every turn, not least through the same leaden dialogue that plagued it, and a new nod and wink cameo showing up every two minutes. This is far from what was promised.
The worst desecration proves to be that of the grave of poor Peter Cushing, reanimated in hideously cynical, disrespectful fashion. Any good will that the shambling first act may have garnered is instantly defenestrated the second that Grand Moff Tarkin lurches out of the Uncanny Valley. Not only is the technology not yet enough advanced, leaving a beleaguered Ben Mendelsohn acting alongside a character from a PS4 game, but it’s staggeringly distasteful, and symptomatic of the poor decision-making throughout.
The cast are game enough, but are hampered by the dialogue and poor writing. For all the safety of The Force Awakens, Rey and Finn are memorable characters. Felicity Jones’ Jyn Erso and Diego Luna’s Cassian Andor are sacrificial fodder at the mercy of a story that only exists to explain away A New Hope‘s biggest plot hole. Much has been made of the fact that Rogue One is devoid of the opening text scrawl that the previous seven films feature, but that’s because the entire endeavour is essentially the text from the original.
The third act heroics claw back some goodwill. Hints of Kurosawa, Coppolla, Kubrick and Peckinpah litter the screen like the corpses of Storm Troopers and Rebels alike, and Edwards is adept at robust and exciting action. It is undeniable that compared to previous entries in the series, it is admirably full on, but aims for an emotional swell that it hasn’t come close to earning.
How compromised the original vision has been by the Disney committee is impossible to say, but it feels increasingly like future entries are going to be as safe and generic as the Marvel universe is threatening to be. Rogue One is a sound idea undercut by compromise and poor choices.