Its plot is muddled-it’s a heist movie in which the rebels steal the plans to destroy the Death Star-its characterizations are forced and truncated, and its battle sequences are more impressive than thrilling. The movie is stultifyingly serious, as leaden and dead on its feet as the infamous prequels-both provided us with endless council meetings, charisma-free leads, and distracting technological “innovations.” The movie is so caught up in the mythology of the Star Wars universe that it never establishes itself as its own animal. One of the many problems with Rogue One: A Star Wars Story is that so much of that joy is gone. I, for one, can’t wait to hang out with those characters again. (Boyega actually says “Droid, please! ” at some point.) The Force Awakens was comfortable in its own skin, celebrating both the franchise itself and the audience’s experience watching it over the years. This was a Star Wars movie that remembered that Star Wars movies were supposed to be a blast. Daisy Ridley and John Boyega were the perfect antidotes to the stolid, oppressively self-serious Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman of the George Lucas prequels. Everyone involved could not believe they were getting to make a Star Wars movie: Pure dumb joy leapt off the screen in every scene, and it was infectious. There’s a good reason that last year’s return to the Star Wars universe, The Force Awakens, was a success at the box office, as well as among critics and fans: In addition to a well-fed nostalgia and a cast of new characters that felt both original and familiar, the movie was overwhelmingly cheerful.
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