Eric Geller's Blog

Star Wars Rebels review: "Twilight of the Apprentice"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 30 Mar 2016 22:00:00 -0400

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Every season finale is supposed to be epic. This is a given in serialized television. But "Twilight of the Apprentice" redefined epic in the context of Star Wars. The Rebels season 2 finale brought back and dramatically enhanced the stature of a villain once discarded as a broken tool; delivered on the promise and angst of a long-awaited fight while opening a new door for one of the combatants; and placed a promising but troubled young man in spiritual and philosophical peril, possibly setting the stage for him to clash with his master in the style of the finale's other main event.

Even before Maul appeared, the episode hinted at Ezra brushing a little too closely to the dark side. The fact that Malachor was the subject of warnings told to padawans at the Jedi Temple made it a "forbidden fruit" of sorts: there was knowledge waiting for them on the planet, but it had been placed off-limits by the Masters for a reason. Of course, this didn't faze Ezra. If anything, it might have piqued his curiosity more. Then Ahsoka, Kanan, and Ezra arrived at the pillar on the planet's surface, and the first real clue about Ezra's inner darkness emerged. As Ahsoka explained that the writing on the pillar was in "in the Old Tongue," he heard it calling out to him, and when he touched it, the ground fell away beneath them. The meaning of the fact that neither Kanan nor Ahsoka felt compelled to touch the pillar was unmistakable—and foreboding.

Interestingly, Ahsoka did her small part to set Ezra on the path he traveled in this episode, when she told the Jedi that, to beat your enemy, you have to understand them. What she didn't say was that this entails dancing close to your enemy in your mind and perhaps in your deeds. Any time you put yourself in your enemy's mindset, you risk being corrupted by their way of thinking. This was a theme in the Expanded Universe, with Jedi as powerful as Luke Skywalker himself brushing up against the dark side in misguided attempts to bring down the Empire from within, and I loved seeing the same thing play out in the season finale.

The catalyst for Ezra's near-fall to the dark side was the return of a character whose development and appeal is a testament to the power of non-film media. Maul, the former Darth, had somehow survived being hunted by the Empire and the Sith since the events of the Son of Dathomir comic. I really want to know what he's been up to recently. The fact that the Eighth Brother—the new Inquisitor we met in the finale—was tracking Maul meant that he was at least on Palpatine and Vader's radar. This, again, made me wonder about the extent to which he had been making his presence felt throughout the galaxy.

It was really interesting and even disturbing to see Maul interact with Ezra in a non-threatening, almost kindly way, because, of course, we knew that that wasn't who he was. His voice was different in this persona, his mannerisms gentle. When he said that he was too old to get into the temple alone, he even laughed at his supposed frailty. The fact that he could adopt this radically different personality showed how adept he was on putting on disguises to achieve his ends. And on the subject of Maul's voice, Sam Witwer's performance was phenomenal. I never felt as close to Maul's emotions as I did when he said, "The Sith...the Sith took everything from me." His anger and pain were crystal clear in that sentence.

Unsurprisingly, Maul was nothing like the frail "Old Master" that he presented to Ezra. The ease with which he defeated two Inquisitors showed that, despite everything he'd been through, he remained an especially lethal fighting force. And his revelation that the temple was a battle station completed the rollout of his masterful plan in a way that drove home his Palpatine-like ability to deceive others. Not only was he still a formidable fighter, but he had developed sophisticated skills of manipulation, to the point where he could cloud a young Jedi's mind and get him to ignore the warning signs leading up to him activating a Sith battle station. I didn't find Maul all that interesting in the movies, but The Clone Wars and now Rebels have transformed him into something utterly different—and endlessly fascinating.

Ezra and Maul in this episode walked almost the exact same path that Anakin and Palpatine walked in the prequel trilogy. The parallels were so obvious, in both simple fact and careful presentation, that it was clear that Dave Filoni and his team wanted to show that history repeats itself—and raise the possibility of that happening with Ezra at some point. While Ezra has dealt with anger in the past, this brush with the dark side was more potent and alarming than any previous incident. And by the end of the season finale, after everything that Ezra had done and seen, there was a new reason to think that he would, ultimately, fall.

Maul, like Palpatine, endeavored to bring Ezra's raw emotions to the surface. He asked Ezra if he wanted revenge for his parents' death, to which Ezra responded that he wants justice. Like Anakin, Ezra filtered his initial responses to Palpatine's probing remarks through the prism of his Jedi training. He remembered what Yoda had said about vengeance and justice, and how the former was a gateway to the dark side. Even so, he remained susceptible to Maul's influence as long as Maul phrased things the right way. There was a superficial nature to the resistance that Ezra offered to the notion of revenge, as if he thought that, as long as he said "justice," he'd be on the right path.

It might seem surprising to some viewers that Ezra was so quick to trust Maul, but ultimately, the reason lay in Maul pushing the right buttons. We like to think that we'd be fully aware of any attempts to manipulate us if we ever found ourselves in a similar situation, but the truth is, if we were Ezra's age, our emotions and memories would screw with our judgement even in what seems to audiences like a black-and-white situation. Maul's quick and easy success with Ezra showed how vulnerable to manipulation the young Jedi still was.

Almost immediately, Maul began poisoning Ezra's mind with Sith whispers about the impotence of the Jedi ways. He said that Kanan was "doomed to fail" because he scorned the idea of dabbling in Sith ways to better understand the Sith. This prompted Ezra to begin considering whether Kanan's way was too limiting, just as Palpatine's whispers to Anakin prompted him to re-evaluate the man he considered a brother. Having planted doubts about the competence of the one person urging Ezra to suppress his anger, Maul honed in on that trait and urged him to let it out. "Your anger is a wellspring," he said. "You must use it." It was early in their relationship, and Ezra was nervous about drawing on his anger, but he eventually relented because he perceived the mission to be too important.

"You must break your chains," Maul told Ezra, framing the issue so as to paint the Jedi in a bad light. It was the Jedi ways, he suggested, that were binding or limiting Ezra, not Ezra's own susceptibility to misdirection or false hope. Ezra, of course, didn't want to be chained or held back—no one does—so he embraced Maul's way. Like Anakin, for all of his power and potential, he remained dangerously impulsive.

It's worth dwelling for a moment on just how much like Palpatine Maul has become. Like his former master, he knew exactly how to word his seduction to achieve the maximum impact with minimal psychological resistance from his target. And he didn't just push Ezra's buttons; he empowered him, to the point where Ezra began to feel gratitude for what Maul had unlocked. Ezra's success opening the temple's doors by harnessing his anger convinced him that Maul might be right about the value of anger. But he had to experience that success before the thought took hold. This was a textbook Palpatine-style seduction, planting the chess pieces and causing the right ones to fall in just the right way to clear a path for the chosen pawn to advance.

The more Maul's whisperings bore fruit, the more likely Ezra was to accept more aggressive reinterpretations of what he already believed. "Unless you take risks—do what must be done—there will always be limits to your abilities," Maul told him. This was, quite simply, classic Palpatine. For Anakin, it was the ability to stop death itself. For Ezra, it was the ability to learn enough to beat Inquisitors in battle. But both of them wanted these skills, this knowledge, to save people they cared about, whether it be a secret wife or an adopted family. Maul, like Palpatine, was easing his victim into a position of being comfortable pushing accepted limits. You had to take this process slowly, like boiling a frog without it jumping out of the pot. But Maul could sense that Ezra hated the idea of being limited—especially with so many friends' lives on the line—and he seized that intuition for his advantage.

When Maul and Ezra reached the chamber that contained the holocron, they saw that it was separated from their ledge by a vast chasm. Maul told Ezra, "Only someone with the courage to risk oblivion is worthy to claim it." Obviously, there was the risk of physical oblivion here, but it seemed to me that Maul's statement could also be read metaphorically: drawing on anger and dabbling in Sith philosophies creates the risk of succumbing to moral and spiritual oblivion. As Anakin learned, becoming a Sith really means losing yourself.

In response to this warning, Ezra doubled down on his trust in Maul, attempting a Force-powered feat—the Force-leapfrog technique—that he had previously only tried with Kanan. The fact that he believed in Maul enough to put his fate directly and acutely in the other man's hands spoke volumes about how perfectly Maul's gambit was working.

The animators and writers couldn't resist playing with us, though. After Ezra retrieved the holocron, Maul convinced him to leap back with the understanding that he would snatch Ezra out of the air and levitate him to safety. As Ezra dangled in the air after making that leap, he extended his holocron-holding hand toward Maul. In the moment that followed, you were led to believe that Maul might just grab the holocron and let Ezra fall to his death. Maul's gleeful face certainly suggested it, and even Ezra looked nervous for a second. But then Maul saved Ezra, solidifying their rapport and seeming to banish all doubt from Ezra's mind. "You were wise to trust me," Maul purred.

As the second half of the finale opened, Maul and Ezra's relationship faced its first exterior test: Kanan. Unsurprisingly, Ezra's master was openly suspicious of Maul's intentions, and even if you put aside what we as viewers know about Maul's history, it was hard to blame Kanan for his doubts. But Kanan's misgivings—"I'm not convinced we're all on the same side anyway"—only annoyed Ezra, because he saw Maul as an unambiguous ally who had just saved his life.

Just as Obi-Wan raising doubts about Palpatine frayed his relationship with Anakin, Kanan's resistance to Maul led Ezra to doubt Kanan's commitment to their ultimate mission. Ezra even admonished Kanan for doubting Maul by reminding him their goal was knowledge. If we want to beat the Inquisitors, he seemed to be telling Kanan, then we should accept all the help we can get. For Ezra, the ends were already beginning to blur the means.

Palpatine knew that poisoning Anakin's mind would only draw out resistance from Obi-Wan that would cement Anakin's anger at his former teacher. Maul played the same exact game. When you combine Kanan's reaction to Maul with what Maul said about Kanan's limitations—which, he said, stemmed from his strict adherence to Jedi principles—it made sense that Ezra would start to turn on Kanan. After all, what Maul said now seemed to be true.

As if doubting the firmness of his grip on Ezra, Maul redoubled his pressure on the boy by reminding him that Vader had slaughtered his friends. I'm not a staunch defender of the Old Republic-era Jedi Order by any means, but one thing they preached seemed to be true: The emotional appeal is the way of the Sith, and that's the reason why the Jedi frowned upon serious attachments. As much as love can embolden someone to do brave, selfless things, it can also be a liability when manipulated.

Thanks to Maul's corruption, Kanan and Ezra's relationship only deteriorated farther as they began working with him. Kanan's protective instincts snapped into place the moment he saw Ezra trusting Maul, but when he warned Ezra that Maul was just using him, Ezra's response was to angrily accuse Kanan of not trusting him. This theme—"When will you trust me to stand on my own?"—had been built up over previous episodes, but now, finally, the two of them could put it into practice. By suggesting that Ezra was falling prey to someone else's tricks, Kanan was casting doubt on his ability to discern lies. He was essentially impugning Ezra's maturity and perceptiveness. To Ezra, this probably sounded like, "You need me to take care of you because you're too naive to navigate the galaxy on your own."

It was easy to see where this was going, but actually seeing it play out was still painful. "Maul sees what I could be," Ezra told Kanan. "You don't." This was the most vicious line in the entire episode. It was the worst wound Ezra could deal to Kanan. Maul had twisted him quite a bit by this point. And again, it was very similar to how Anakin defend Palpatine to Obi-Wan and turned on his old master in favor of a new one.

The closer Maul drew Ezra, the less work he needed to do to solidify his hold on the boy—and the more effective every act of deception was. When he saved Ezra from the Eighth Brother while Kanan lay wounded on the ground, it was both a setback for Kanan's image in Ezra's eyes and a win for Maul. Ezra's Jedi master couldn't help him; his new ally Maul had to step in. This only drove Ezra closer to Maul out of gratitude, and perhaps it exacerbated his frustration with Kanan for both failing to save him and doubting Maul's intentions.

When Maul suggested that the four of them split up, with Ahsoka and Kanan diverging from Ezra and Maul, Kanan faced a test. Ezra, by this point a true believer in Maul's every word, urged Kanan to trust him. Kanan had to decide whether to keep him close by or trust his judgement so as to win back his favor. In the end, like Obi-Wan, he decided that he was more concerned Ezra would fall if he thought his master didn't trust him than if someone else corrupted him.

The scene with Maul and Ezra on the rising platform was the closest equivalent to Revenge of the Sith's opera scene that the finale had to offer. In careful terms, calibrated to best appeal to Ezra's goals and methodology, Maul described the dark side's lack of mercy or remorse as a position of strength, implying that the light side—with its contemptuous mercy—was the side of weakness. When Maul asked Ezra, "Can I count on you?" I immediately thought back to Palpatine telling Anakin, "I need your help, son." Maul was corrupting the conversation, making Ezra's choice of sides seem like a test of his loyalty and integrity. If he didn't do what Maul wanted, he would feel like he was letting his new ally down. How could he say no?

By now we were getting close to the moment when Ezra discovered the truth about Maul, but the former Sith warrior had one more twist of the knife to deliver. When the two of them encountered the Seventh Sister, Maul urged Ezra to kill her, but he couldn't do it. So Maul did it for him, and he barely paused to regard her crumpled body before returning to his new student. What followed was an absolutely perfect—and perfectly Sidious-like—sequence of Maul guilt-tripping Ezra for failing to kill the Seventh Sister. With wide eyes full of false concern, Maul remarked that the next time Ezra failed to kill, it could cost "the lives of your friends." Immediately, we heard Kanan's concerned shout as he and Ahsoka fought the other Inquisitors. The message to Ezra was clear: the stakes are real, and some day your reluctance to kill might get Kanan killed.

Fortunately, Ezra wasn't Anakin, at least not yet. Whereas Anakin followed Palpatine's command to execute Dooku, Ezra was still tethered, albeit perhaps faintly, to the light side. And his experience inside the heart of the temple-turned-battle-station revealed that he wasn't ready to follow the Sith way. When a embodied voice that sounded like Asajj Ventress declared, "Knowledge is power," she was basically summing up the secret behind Maul's plan: Ezra wanted knowledge, but what he was unknowingly working toward was giving Maul more power. To Ezra's credit, he backed away from this as soon as it became clear to him. And when "Asajj" gave Ezra control of the battle station, he refused the chance, the temptation, to wield that massive power.

It was a relief to see how Ezra reacted when Kanan appeared. Just as Ezra had to help Maul enact his plan, Ezra and Kanan had to work together to undo it. The apprentice solidified his bond with his master as they jointly stopped what he and Maul had started. When Ezra realized that something was wrong with Kanan's eyes, you could see the regret and anguish well up inside him for a moment. He was realizing not just that he had messed up, but also that he had practically blinded Kanan himself by being so blind with Maul and letting the ex-Sith get so close to them all.

There's one more major element of this episode to discuss, but first, I want to touch on a few miscellaneous observations of the finale. I loved the design of the Sith chamber's interior, with the frozen, mummified bodies of Force-wielding combatants littering the ground; it was beautifully haunting, as were the star-scape of the ceiling and the thin shafts of light piercing it. I loved that Ezra found a crossguard lightsaber, in a nod to Kylo Ren's weapon in The Force Awakens—the design for which dated back to Malachor's earlier days. I was really impressed by the depiction of the temple; it felt alive as Ezra and Maul walked through it. It sounded angry, oppressive, and menacing, as if the doors and walls were snarling at the two of them.

I thought the twist moment, in which Maul revealed his true intentions, was beautifully executed, with the mood darkening as he slashed at Kanan's eyes. There was even a clear hint of Duel of the Fates as Ahsoka stepped in to hold off Maul. I was surprised to hear Asajj Ventress's voice coming out of the holocron, and I was disappointed that we didn't learn more about what "The Presence"—as Nika Futterman's voice is listed in the credits—was doing in the temple. But then again, it was a jam-packed episode. I just hope we learn more about that voice's role in all of this.

I also wish we'd learned more about the Eighth Brother. At first, I thought it was a woman, and I briefly wondered whether Dave Filoni would introduce another twist by revealing it to be Barriss Offee. After all, Ahsoka was right there, and that would certainly make things more painful. But alas, he apparently died without even unmasking himself. At least we got to see the Inquisitors doing something new, hovering on their spinning lightsabers like a twisted version of witches on broomsticks.

Speaking of visuals, the shot of Vader standing on his descending TIE fighter, framed from Ezra's perspective, was just fantastic. In terms of both animation and viewpoint, it was the perfect way to portray Vader as an inscrutable monster. But when Vader said that the temple/battle station's power "will soon serve the Emperor," I realized that something didn't make sense: If the Emperor wanted that power, why didn't he and Vader go and seize it for themselves? Why did the Emperor have to wait for someone else to unlock it? I'd still like to know the answer to this, but as I watched the episode, I didn't have much time to dwell on the question.

Darth Vader versus Ahsoka Tano. It's the confrontation that Star Wars fans have been waiting to see since we first met Ahsoka in 2008 and learned that Anakin Skywalker had had an apprentice. This fight was inevitable. It was unavoidable. It was, as Palpatine might say, their destiny. When Vader declared that their "long-awaited meeting has come at last," he was nudging the fourth wall, speaking for the thousands of people who have been either dreading or eagerly anticipating that very moment. And the confrontation did not disappoint.

The lightsaber sparring itself was relatively uninteresting. Ahsoka held her own against her former master, showing that she had become nearly as formidable a warrior as him. Ezra offered the rare laugh line when he observed, "I need a lot more training." But the heart of Vader and Ahsoka's showdown was the verbal sparring. Vader brushed aside the very notion of Anakin Skywalker by saying that he was weak and "I destroyed him." (Side note: There was Vader endorsing Obi-Wan's "true, from a certain point of view" description of Luke's father's death.) While Ahsoka must have known that this was just a metaphorical statement, she clearly stood ready to avenge her master's demise.

Ahsoka's willingness to seek revenge surprised Vader and led to the best exchange of dialog in the episode: "Revenge is not the Jedi way." "I am no Jedi." I briefly wondered, at this point, if Ahsoka had that kind of anger in her. It was true, she was no longer a Jedi, but revenge is a dark thing. What did it mean for her that she was ready to embrace it to sustain herself in a fight? Regardless, it soon became clear that she had meant what she'd said: she was angry and willing to draw on that anger to defeat Vader. When Vader Forced-pulled Ezra and the holocron toward him, Ahsoka snarled as she lashed out at him to distract him. I realized, then, that even if her allegiance to Anakin hadn't brought out anger before, her desperation to save her friends had done so eventually.

Then came the bitter twist. When Vader, wounded by Ahsoka's strike, called out her name, her eyes went wide—because the monster's voice suddenly sounded less distorted and more human. It was more recognizable. She could hear Anakin's voice in there, somewhere. We then saw that Vader's mask was partially missing, revealing a sliver of his face and one angry yellow eye. This amazing look appeared a few times in the Expanded Universe, but we'd never before seen it in authoritative, canon media, and it was fantastic and devastatingly effective here.

Once she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Anakin was Vader, Ahsoka refused to abandon him. As bitterly as they had just fought, she still retained that vulnerability, that level of caring for her long-gone master. But Vader didn't care about her. He used her attachment as a springboard for a renewed attack. And that was the point at which the temple door slammed and Ezra, Kanan, and the audience left that epic confrontation behind.

A season finale of this scale wasn't about to end with a whimper. The closing montage was beautiful, haunting, epic, and cinematic: Hera reuniting with Kanan, Ezra looking guiltily at a distraught Rex, Maul flying away, Vader staggering out of the temple, and Ahsoka—in some form—descending into the darkness. It's my understanding that Dave Filoni is remaining coy about whether Ahsoka lived or died, and what, exactly, we saw walking into darkness on Malachor. I'm not a huge fan of that ambiguity, but if Filoni has bigger things in store for Ahsoka in the future, I can live with it. With Ahsoka's fate unknown and Maul once again a player in galactic events, there are certain many story threads to pull on in season 3 and beyond.

But even that emotionally devastating montage wasn't the true end of the episode. The last thing we saw before the closing title card was Ezra levitating the Sith holocron in his hand, his eyes burning with a hint of red as he unlocked a device that no Jedi was supposed to be able to unlock. This is the big question lingering over Star Wars Rebels as it embarks on its second hiatus: What happens to Ezra going forward? Season 1 established his immense promise, and season 2 introduced a series of hurdles and dangers. Where will season 3 take him?

Like Anakin, Ezra fell prey to a desire for knowledge that seemed off-limits to someone following a traditional Jedi path. It remains to be seen how his experience on Malachor—including supposedly losing Ahsoka—will shape his future. All we know is that he opened a holocron meant for Force-wielders with a dramatically different philosophy on life, justice, knowledge, and power. It is a testament to how exquisitely this season finale depicted Maul's manipulations that we can foresee real jeopardy for Ezra on the horizon. "Twilight of the Apprentice" expertly wove in echoes of Palpatine's corruption of Anakin, bringing Ezra to the precipice and then yanking him back, but leaving it uncertain just what he learned—and how he will apply those lessons in the future.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Mystery of Chopper Base"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 26 Mar 2016 14:39:00 -0400

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Given what we know is coming in the highly anticipated finale of Star Wars Rebels Season Two, the penultimate episode of the season was refreshingly unique. Our rebels simply had to deal with a spider infestation at their secret base, and despite Zeb's amusing jitters, this proved to be a relatively straightforward task. The real story in "The Mystery of Chopper Base" wasn't the action on the surface, as the rebels dealt with these creatures; it was the tension beneath the surface, as they dealt with each other and confronted the possibility of everything changing. "The Mystery of Chopper Base" dealt with this tension beautifully, saying so much in so few words.

In a series where the Empire or the dark side is usually each episode's big threat, it was nice to see an episode in which the threat was simpler and more primal. It was smart to use spiders for this threat, because their appearance and the rebels' reactions to them played on real-world fear and anxiety about spiders. (I thought I was going to have nightmares after watching this episode.) The creatures' movements were perfect—slow, steady, and uber-creepy—and their glittering eyes, chittering steps, and inhuman shrieks made them feel authentically scary. I particularly liked the way the spider that had been holding Rex dropped out of its hole in the ceiling; it was really unsettling. I also enjoyed the fact that Ezra couldn't connect with the spider, and the fact that this surprised him. As executive producer Dave Filoni observed in Rebels Recon, Ezra was used to bonding with more familiar creatures, and the spider, out on the edge of the known galaxy, was so foreign to him that he couldn't make the connection.

The spider confrontation sewn throughout "The Mystery of Chopper Base" seemed almost like filler A-plot to space out the scenes of the B-plot: Kanan and Ezra preparing to depart, and the other rebels' reactions to their imminent departure. That was fine, by the way; we've had so many fast-paced episodes recently that it was nice to slow things down a bit and give the subtext room to rise to the surface. And man, was there a lot of subtext to boil up.

As the episode began, Kanan and Ezra were in the middle of an intense, prolonged bout of training, and even through my TV screen, the air on the Ghost seemed heavy with trepidation and anticipation about what they were about to do: leave with Ahsoka to confront an Inquisitor and venture to the dreaded planet Malachor. With the stakes so high, it made sense that Kanan would press Ezra harder than he'd ever pressed him. It was crunch time—the culmination, in some ways, of all of their hard work—and Kanan knew that there was no room for error. He wanted Ezra to be ready. He needed him to be ready.

Ezra didn't seem to grasp the stakes. When the ended their last round in mutually assured death, Ezra called it a tie, and Kanan sharply rebuked him: "There's no such thing as a tie. You lose, you die." It was clear that he wanted to drive home the urgency of their mission to Ezra, but this seemed to catch his apprentice off guard more than anything else. Ezra erred again by saying that killing an Inquisitor would be a win, to which Kanan—perhaps fearing that a focus on killing would lead Ezra to the dark side—responded, "You win by surviving." Recall that Kanan recently encountered a Force vision warning him about Ezra's growing power and potential for darkness. Even errant comments like Ezra's remark about killing an Inquisitor must set Kanan's teeth on edge.

It occurred to me, rewatching this episode, that Kanan had to walk a fine line in preparing Ezra for their mission with Ahsoka. He had to drill Ezra until the younger man's combat instincts were up to par—like when he lunged at Ezra when he turned his back, to remind him not to get overconfident—but on the other hand, he had to urge Ezra to calm his mind and focus on the right goals. In the old days, when the Jedi were at the height of their power, there was an entire temple on Coruscant full of people who could coach padawans through the balancing act of being a warrior-monk. Now, there was just Kanan, struggling to instill the right lessons without tipping the vulnerable young man too far in one direction.

Watching all of this from the overhead railing on the Ghost, Hera conveyed a mixture of sadness and resignation. She knew that she might lose them on this mission, and that scared her. She was used to being in charge, having the intel, and setting her sights on a concrete end-game. This Jedi stuff didn't sit well with her because there were too many inscrutable variables and unknown unknowns.

Hera was also losing two valued team members, and that worried her, as the team's leader, for both logistical and interpersonal reasons. "We've got to get used to not having them around," Hera told Zeb when the Jedi split from the rest of the group to locate Rex in the spiders' den. I really liked this moment, because it showed Hera, ever the tactician, already preparing the team for the Jedi's absence. She clearly didn't like it, but she had to put that aside, step up, and be the leader she'd always been.

But one team member was more than just a team member. When Kanan observed that the rebels' new base had "everything you need," she replied, with no small degree of anguish, "Except you and Ezra." It has been obvious for a while to every adult Rebels fan—and probably some younger audience members too—that Kanan and Hera, for the sake of the rebellion, are suppressing their feelings for each other. In most episodes, that's in the background, seen in the way Hera calls Kanan affection names or the way they hug after an episode-long separation. In this episode, though, the stakes were higher. The air was taut with things unsaid, possibly forever. Hera didn't want Kanan to go, but she also knew that she couldn't stop him—and that, as he pointed out, his mission was critically important to the broader rebellion.

Hera might have seen the situation for what it was, but Kanan didn't fully grasp how much his and Ezra's impending departure was affecting Hera. Sabine had to spell it out for him: Hera was rattled. When Kanan tried to soothe Hera with his trademark cockiness, she countered, "You realize I know when you're lying, right?" This wasn't just a flippant rejoinder. It was a reminder that Hera and Kanan have worked together for so long that she recognizes signs in him that others miss.

"Whatever you're facing," Hera said, "I wanted us to face it together." She prioritized teamwork and for that reason worried about the Jedi's departure, but Kanan looked at the mission on a mystical, "this is our path alone" level. This wasn't something that Hera and the others could help them with, even if he'd wanted to bring them.

Hera and Kanan's closing hug wasn't just perfect fodder for the shippers; it also captured their differing personalities: Kanan's confidence and need to reassure juxtaposed with Hera's wariness and insatiable habit of imagining outcomes, Kanan's restlessness—particularly where the Force was concerned—juxtaposed with Hera's thoughtfulness. Maybe Kanan didn't actually feel as confident as he seemed, but even if that were the case, it only further emphasized that he felt the need to play that role for Hera. I loved this final scene between the two of them because of how starkly it drew out their essential character traits.

With the season finale just around the corner, "The Mystery of Chopper Base" took some time to emphasize how much our heroes have progressed over the last two years. This began with Kanan, who told Hera that he now understood the need for them to be part of a larger movement. When you recall Kanan's adamant opposition to joining Sato's fleet in the season premiere, this admission seems remarkable. It represents significant progress for him as a person. Working with Sato's fleet has taught him the value of organizational support.

Then there was Zeb and Ezra watching the sunset together. This was another remarkable departure from the past. Zeb didn't even want Ezra on the team at first, and the two sparred incessantly for several episodes before settling into a big brother/little brother routine of light-hearted pranks with an edge of antagonism. But Zeb has grown to respect Ezra over the last two seasons' worth of missions. Not only does he appreciate Ezra's presence on a personal level, but by virtue of trusting Ezra, he acknowledges that he's a moderately proficient Force-user. Again, recall the early episodes: Zeb mocked the very idea of Ezra mastering any Force abilities during his initial training sessions with Kanan. Zeb's line "We can swap war stories" is a profound comment on their kinship. It's something a Lasat honor guardsman would say to a comrade, not to a pipsqueak.

"The Mystery of Chopper Base" presented a scary but relatively simple challenge for the rebels, but now Ezra and Kanan were about to take on a much bigger, much more dangerous task. As Ezra sat watching the spiders walk around the edge of the base, he seemed like a kid relishing his last few hours of free time before the school year began. When Ahsoka appeared, the episode subtly emphasized that Ezra was about to embark on a fateful mission: as he told her that he couldn't connect with the spiders, they abruptly turned away from the base and departed, as if to mark the end of this whole encounter. At that same moment—and perhaps for the same reason—we heard a light portion of Vader's Theme in the background, presaging a marquee faceoff. In the episode's final moments, as the camera panned up to an eerily calm bird, the music darkened to the more recognizable theme to kick us into the season 2 finale.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Forgotten Droid"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 16 Mar 2016 21:34:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

If C1-10P is the cat to R2-D2's dog, then "The Forgotten Droid" was about that cat meeting a stray and guiding it home. But what happens when the cat remembers that it's a loner for a reason? That's the question I was left with at the end of this episode. Yes, Chopper made a friend. But nothing that happened in "The Forgotten Droid" changed his essential nature: grumpy, selfish, and lazy. His encounter with AP-5 offered a few laughs and a study in contrasts, but it didn't produce any character growth—because, for reasons of series structure, Chopper must remain trapped in his stereotypically cantankerous role.

Just like in every previous episode, Chopper demonstrated no interest in the mission at hand. Forced to stay behind on the ship because he wasn't needed, he bristled at the need to play a supporting role. Perhaps he craved the excitement of direct engagement with the Imperials; perhaps he'd just rather be getting an oil bath back on the fleet command ship. Either way, as soon as he spotted a replacement leg for his chassis sitting in a junk shop on Horizon Base, everything changed. Suddenly, he had a personal goal. He wanted to replace his ugly leg with a better-fitting one. But of course, the other rebels didn't care. They were on a mission and had bigger things to worry about. His servile position, combined with the lack of respect from his friends, led Chopper to abandon his post.

Despite rendering crucial assistance to his team in the past, the beginning of this episode emphasized a key fact that is often overlooked in discussions of how adorably cantankerous Chopper is: He really isn't a good team member. He doesn't take missions seriously and lets personal interests distract him despite the stakes. This was the first time we saw Chopper abandon a mission for a personal goal, but it wasn't the first time he let his team down. On many past missions, he did his job only reluctantly or half-heartedly, usually out of fear or annoyance. Despite this episode's resolution, it became clear at the beginning that, when the chips are on the line, Chopper only cares about himself.

It's not as if I don't understand the plight of droids in the Star Wars galaxy. Several interactions between organics and droids in this episode reinforced that they are mistreated, misjudged, and undervalued. The Ugnaught salesman from whom Chopper stole the leg asked him where his owner was, assuming that he belonged to someone rather than forming part of a team. (The juxtaposition between that line and the Ghost taking off in the background was hilarious, by the way.) This was a reminder of the fact that, in Star Wars, most people wouldn't believe that a droid could be independent. We're so used to knowing independent droids in Star Wars stories that we often forget how they usually fit into society: as servants. "The Forgotten Droid" was rife with demeaning remarks about droids and assumptions about their servile nature.

One of the great contrasts in this episode was between organics' treatment of droids as servile automatons and Chopper's own humanlike behavior. The sound team seemed to go out of their way to make Chopper's vocalizations understandable—every time AP-5 repeated a line back to him, you could retroactively make out the human words in his sounds—and the animators threw in hilariously anthropomorphic gestures, like when he kicked the replacement leg up into his grasping arms the way a human might do.

We also learned something new about Chopper in this episode that further humanized him: He served in the Clone Wars and his Y-wing was shot down during the Ryloth campaign, whereupon Hera rescued him. AP-5, who was clearly more perceptive than his menial job indicated, had to remind Chopper of what this meant: "You're fortunate to have someone who cares." AP-5's own plight, combined with the reminder of Hera saving him, prodded Chopper o consider what should really matter in life: his family. Whether or not he recognized the lesson here—that he didn't treat them well enough—was unclear. And the reminder of his rebel family clashed with the fact that Chopper never seemed to respect them the way a family member should.

One-off characters are a gamble: The episode depends on them, but they're probably not going to stick around, so you have to know just how much to give the audience and just how much to hold back. Spend too much time developing them and you frustrate the audience by never paying off that development. Sketch them out only halfway and they aren't substantial enough to do their job in the episode. AP-5 was the perfect secondary character. We learned just enough about him to make him interesting, but not so much that, if he never appeared again, it would feel like a waste.

AP-5's relationship with the captain of his freighter—a fat, slovenly, abusive man who treated droids like dirt—formed the backbone of the droid's character development. The captain was the perfect contrast to the rigid, monotonous, by-the-book inventory droid, and the tension between their demeanors was brilliantly apparent, as AP-5 displayed exasperation with the captain's carelessness. Even more important to the story, though, was the fact that the captain enjoyed tormenting AP-5. The Imperial didn't think of AP-5 as a sentient being; he just a thing to be toyed with, a way to let off some steam during a boring workday. His cruelty would prove to be his undoing.

Even though no one respected him—with a stormtrooper not even bothering to acknowledge him when they bumped into each other—AP-5 remained a robot with clear programming, bound to his job and determined to execute it efficiently. He took pride in having logged everything on the ship; despite the lowly task, he enjoyed knowing that he had done it to the best of his ability. But this fastidiousness was partly the result of his restraining bolt, which enslaved him and limited his ability to think or act independently. His encounter with Chopper changed everything for him in a way that was a treat to watch.

Chopper and AP-5 couldn't have been more different. Whereas Chopper was a free droid with people who cared about him and no desire to help them, AP-5 was a servant to a careless master and couldn't refuse orders even if he'd wanted to. Voice actor Stephen Stanton accentuated the differences between the two robots by giving AP-5 a bored, contemptuous voice—it sounded, to me, exactly like Alan Rickman's Severus Snape—to contrast with Chopper's excitable, vivacious personality.

Were it not for the captain of the freighter, things would have gone terribly for the rebel fleet in "The Forgotten Droid." Whatever interest he had in Chopper, AP-5 was bound to his "tedious occupation" and knew he had to obey orders. Thus, he checked in when the captain called him. But when faced with the obligation to report Chopper's presence—which would have ensured the droid's capture and prevented the rebels from learning about the Yost trap—AP-5 broke with his programming because of the captain's abuse. He chose the droid that was treating him somewhat nicely over the human who was treating him like scrap. Ironically, the captain's foul behavior had cost him the loyalty of a droid whose loyalty he took for granted for mechanical (restraining bolt) reasons.

AP-5 soon fell in even deeper with Chopper, despite his initial misgivings. As he helped Chopper carry away the captain's inert form, one could tell that it was because he starting to like the squat, rambunctious droid. In fact, AP-5 seemed to take on the C-3PO role to Chopper's R2-D2, scolding the rebel droid about the long odds of his plan succeeding and continuing to critique it even as it worked.

Chopper stunned AP-5 on the bridge of the freighter by calling him a friend. AP-5 was clearly taken aback because he had never considered the possibility of a droid having friends. (Again, remember: Probably 90 percent of the droids in the galaxy experience nothing close to independence or voluntary relationships.) Indeed, this was a new thing for Chopper, too. And because Chopper was still, ultimately, Chopper, part of me wondered if he was just using AP-5 to get home. AP-5 didn't seem to feel this way—he respected Chopper enough to save his friends by warning them that the Yost system was a trap—and Chopper seemed to demonstrate his sincerity when he mourned his friend's temporary deactivation after the captain shot him.

Despite her background role, Hera played an important part in the episode by representing the rest of their rebels in their relationship with Chopper. As the rebels departed for their mission, she urged Chopper to focus on the mission, displaying exasperation as his dome drifted away from her and toward the replacement leg while she was still talking to him. Chopper was the classic petulant child in that moment. And that impression stuck with Hera as she scrambled to get the fleet to safety. "I know that droid," she said. "He's always thinking about himself." The thing is, she was right. Chopper has never prioritized the greater good when he could help himself instead.

Hera had a hard time accepting that Chopper—whom she called by his formal designation in a moment of anger—had made a friend, because she had spent so much time with him that she knew what he was like. "Chopper doesn't have any friends," she told AP-5. The inventory droid tried to convince her otherwise, easing her anger by reminding her that she'd saved Chopper's life during the Clone Wars. But Chopper clearly has not repaid his debt to Hera with anything approaching loyalty, and it was hard to imagine that his friendship with AP-5 would go any better.

Before I conclude this review, I want to note a few other things that stood out to me. First of all, where did Ketsu come from? It was never established that she'd begun working with the rebels. The last time we saw her, it was in a "maybe I'll see you again sometime" context. Her sudden reappearance deserved an explanation. But more important to this episode was the series of puns directed at Chopper, who, like many of my own friends, could not have been more annoyed at them. Zeb got things started by mocking Chopper's interest in the leg with a "Shopper" joke. Ezra followed up by telling him to "get a leg up on the Empire." And the Ugnaught salesman completed the trifecta by saying, "I won't charge you an arm and a leg for it." As a lover of puns, I was gratified to see Rebels include several and even more thrilled that they were aimed at Chopper.

So, will Chopper change his ways now that he's made a friend? Color me skeptical. Yes, he sacrificed the very thing that had led him on his adventure in order to save AP-5's life—giving him what appeared to be more of an attitude in the process—but there's a big difference between foregoing a limb replacement and proactively risking your neck. I doubt Chopper will be rushing into danger the way the rest of Hera's crew does any time soon. The series set him up as the sadistic, cantankerous rust bucket who plays pranks on Ezra and grumbles about the tasks Hera gives him, and the writers don't seem intent on changing course with him. In any event, I doubt many fans would even want that. Chopper seems to be stuck in his ways, and that partially undercut the feel-good nature of this episode's ending.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Shroud of Darkness"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 2 Mar 2016 22:32:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

Two of my favorite things about Star Wars are the political conflict and the spiritual conflict. The political conflict was Zeb and Agent Kallus sparring over competing ideologies, with one perhaps convincing the other to reconsider his allegiance. But the deeper conflict, the spiritual one, is a war for the "soul" of the Force itself. The spirit of the galaxy has always been contested between the forces of darkness and light. In "Shroud of Darkness," viewers and characters alike received another masterfully choreographed warning about the outcome of the latest phase of this spiritual war.

Having seen the focus on Ezra in the mid-season trailer, I didn't expect Kanan's journey to be as important as it was in this episode. But Kanan's fear was as crucial to the temple's revelations as everything that Ahsoka and Ezra saw. It began with an offhand remark aboard the Ghost, one that Ezra bristled at and that showed Kanan's still-imperfect understanding of what it meant to be a Jedi Master.

"I can barely protect you," Kanan told Ezra. For all of Ezra's growth, for all of his maturity, part of Kanan still saw his apprentice as just a kid in need of shielding. But Ezra is much more than that at this point, and it was time for Kanan to acknowledge this. Kanan's overprotectiveness emerged as his greatest anxiety once the three Jedi arrived at the Lothal temple. The mystical dwelling sent each Jedi off on his or her own path, and Kanan was the first to go. At first, I didn't understand the location of the lesson: a training room at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Kanan craved the purpose and guidance that the Jedi Order used to provide, and that, without it, he felt uncertain of his role.

The Temple Guard who first appeared to Kanan offered sobering guidance: that the Jedi's effort in the nascent Rebellion was doomed to fail, that Ezra's power was growing too quickly for him to control, and that Kanan would fail him as a teacher. "Try to fight," the masked guardsman said, "and you will fail." Given that Ezra later received a similar warning from Yoda, I was left wondering if this would really turn out to be true. On the one hand, always in motion is the future. On the other hand, these warnings about failure clearly portend a serious struggle at some point in the future. Either way, it isn't going to be pretty.

Later in the fight, as the Temple Guard advanced on him, Kanan snatched up a second lightsaber, a red one, from the wall behind him. At first glance, this might not seem significant. But consider the context in which Kanan was trying to defeat the guard. Through the persona of this Temple protector, the Force was trying to warn Kanan that Ezra had to make his own choices, and that a teacher's ability to protect his student was limited. Kanan's resistance to the guard signified his resistance to the truth that the vision conveyed. In a frustrated bid to protect Ezra, Kanan literally drew on a weapon associated with the dark side—a fact he seemed to acknowledge with a tiny glance of concern at the color of the blade as it sprang out. The message was clear: resist the necessity of letting Ezra go in the "real world" and you risk falling to the dark side in your desperation.

The Temple Guard continued to goad Kanan to test the limits of his control. Verbalizing the lost Jedi's greatest fear, the guard intoned, "You will never be strong enough to protect your pupil." But Kanan was eventually strong enough to accept the truth. He ceased fighting and realize that he couldn't "protect Ezra forever," as he put it. All he could do, he admitted to himself in that moment, was make Ezra the best padawan he could be, so that, someday, he was ready to step into his own as a Jedi.

After Kanan admitted his limited ability to prepare and protect Ezra, the main Temple Guard fighting him suddenly ceased his attack and transitioned into a knighting ritual. Having admitted his limits and accepted the fact of Ezra's growing independence, Kanan had passed yet another crucial test. And while the Jedi Order was gone, the Force itself had seemingly bestowed upon Kanan an honor that the Order's fall had precluded: the promotion to full Jedi Knight.

But there was a surprise in store for Kanan—and viewers. The Temple Guard removed his mask to reveal the Grand Inquisitor, who admitted that he had once been a Jedi Knight. Kanan's shock mirrored my own. Out-of-universe, it was an excellent way to add depth to a previously two-dimensional character. In-universe, Kanan's former nemesis was now more complex to him. He could no longer write off the Grand Inquisitor as a simple tool of evil. The man had undergone a conversion; there was a history there, a path he had taken away from the Jedi Order and toward the Sith. Kanan, like the viewer, saw this "bad guy" in a whole new light. Thus, even after his death, the Inquisitor's past became more interesting and mysterious.

If the lesson for Kanan was that he had to accept the limits of his abilities, the lesson for Ezra was that he had to accept the dangers of his. At the beginning of the episode, in an effort to escape the Inquisitors, Ezra used the Force to call to the flying creatures on the planet they were scouting. He did it almost effortlessly, reflecting his growing power; his frustration at struggling to connect to a Loth-cat many episodes ago seemed like a distant memory. But this benign reflection of Ezra’s increasing mastery of the Force underscored the danger that lay ahead.

Inside the Lothal temple, after hearing Ahsoka wistfully describe Jedi Master Yoda, Ezra suddenly vanished from her sight and appeared in a star field that he recognized, where Yoda appeared to him. In another reflection of his increasing Force abilities, he could now see Yoda instead of just hearing him. But the Jedi Master echoed the Temple Guard's warning to Kanan about the perils of Ezra's strength. He told Ezra that his new strength meant new danger. But Ezra didn't seem to appreciate how important this warning was. Because while Kanan's fear was his inability to protect Ezra, Ezra's fear was his inability to make a difference in the brewing conflict.

Like Luke Skywalker a decade later, Ezra wanted to fight the Empire and seemed to bristle at Yoda's cryptic warnings against violence. Yoda, having seen so much in just the last two decades, laughed at Ezra's simplistic notion of winning, explaining how the Jedi had been blinded by the shroud of the dark side and how their choices had doomed them. Ezra didn't see the relevance of this to his own struggle. Like many other Jedi—and many Star Wars fans—Ezra sought guidance for using violence in a noble way without succumbing to the lure of the dark side. He couldn't just sit around and let the Empire's yoke settle onto the galaxy's shoulders.

Yoda reminded Ezra that winning wasn't a simple notion; instead, it was about how one chose to win. Recognizing that Ezra—as much an Empire-hating street-rat-turned-resistance-fighter as a Jedi-in-training—felt compelled to fight, Yoda offered him a morsel of guidance with immense resonance in the broader story of Star Wars: "find Malachor." Anyone who read The Force Awakens Visual Dictionary will know that the design of Kylo Ren's crossguard lightsaber dates back to the Great Scourge of Malachor, which occurred thousands of years prior to the events of that movie. The midseason trailer showed Ezra wielding a similar weapon, making Malachor a major touchstone of this real-world era of Star Wars storytelling. I have no clue where this is all going, but I'm thrilled to see it happening.

Rebels didn't just peer forward with this brief mention of Malachor. It also peered backward. And if Ezra's upcoming literal journey to Malachor already feels portentous, Ahsoka's figurative journey into her past life felt tragic. As much as Rebels is really about Ezra, Kanan, and their crew, Ahsoka has always occupied a larger-than-life presence on the show since her arrival, and it's gratifying to see the writers continue to pay that off with new hints about what she knows and what she feels.

Anakin Skywalker occupied Ahsoka's mind during the events of this episode, from the Ghost to the temple. Hearing Matt Lanter reprising his role as Anakin was an enormously powerful thing, both as a fan of The Clone Wars and as someone invested in Ahsoka's continuing journey. In the former context, the hologram of Lanter's focused, confident Anakin recalled memories of Jedi heroics and quieter moments between master and apprentice in the previous series. In the latter context, every second that we were hearing Anakin's voice was also a moment in which Ahsoka was forced to dwell on what had happened to him.

As Ahsoka meditated to the sound of Anakin's training holo and described her former master to Ezra, angelic music and unspoken tension filled the air. The music made the scene feel eerily tranquil, but the dark events known only to one of the room's occupants also made it feel emotionally fraught. The way Ahsoka reflected on Anakin's life and service to the Order—and to her, personally—was so beautiful, enhanced by voice actress Ashley Eckstein's masterful delivery. Yes, Ahsoka said, Anakin was as powerful as the legends held, but he was also kind in a way that those legends couldn't capture. As Ahsoka reflected on his compassionate side, it was impossible to miss the sadness in her voice. She knew that all of that was gone.

But if I'm reading this episode correctly, Ahsoka had also known for some time—as many fans suspected—that Anakin had become Darth Vader. The first clue came in that initial scene between her and Ezra. When he asked what happened to Anakin, she didn't really answer him. All she said was that she remembered seeing him run off to rescue Chancellor Palpatine from the Separatists—a nod to the opening of Revenge of the Sith that will no doubt stoke speculation about where Ahsoka was at the time—before "everything changed." Her response never directly addressed Anakin's fate.

Ahsoka's experience in the Lothal temple seemed to add enormous weight to the idea that she has known Anakin's fate for a while. Like Ezra and Kanan, she confronted her deepest fears, doubts, and anxieties. Her greatest fear was her former master's disapproval. Her deepest agony was his disappointment. And while she didn't regret leaving the Order, she did wonder whether her departure had contributed to Anakin's fall. And in the most powerful moment in the episode, Ahsoka was forced to confront the reality of what Anakin had become: the mask, armored Sith Lord pursuing her and her new friends.

Ahsoka reacted with visceral anger and despair at the stark realization that this was undeniably true. She couldn't lie to herself about Anakin or couch her mental image of him in outdated memories of his kindness. For all her strength and wisdom, she was still deeply troubled by Anakin's fall. Her need for reassurance after this troubling vision prompted her to turn around as the Jedi fled the temple and glimpse Yoda sitting on a branch, smiling at her and waving.

That brief moment was full to bursting with important subtext. As far as Yoda and Ahsoka knew, they were two of the three Order 66 survivors with a personal connection to Anakin. Their brief exchange of warm feelings was like a mutual effort to buoy each other's spirits. Yoda was bidding her good luck on her journey to help these newly emerged Jedi right the wrongs of the past generation. She was affirming her commitment to the task at hand, trying to push away thoughts about what that might entail. It was a beautiful moment, and I couldn't help but think about the fact that, like so many Jedi who grew up around Yoda, Ahsoka simply loved seeing him. His presence reminded her of simpler times—safer times.

Let's talk a little bit more about Yoda. Many lines in this episode recalled the wizened Jedi Master's journeys at the end of The Clone Wars, in the final story arc of the "season 6" bonus content. "When I was young," Ahsoka told Ezra, "he seemed happier." That changed as the war progressed, she said, "as if he knew before anyone else that one time was ending and another beginning." Listening to that last part, I remembered Yoda's acceptance, in the very last episode of The Clone Wars, of the need to accept the futility of the war and prepare for a new reality. Yoda saw things that no other Jedi glimpsed, and those lessons informed his changing demeanor. We saw all of this happen from his perspective, and now we were hearing about it from Ahsoka's perspective.

Yoda's conversation with Ezra offered more chances to delve into the past, especially when he literally played clips of The Clone Wars—and even a shot from Attack of the Clones, in an unexpectedly direct connection between the TV and movie worlds—for Ezra. This was obviously his way of illustrating the dangers of war, a chance to link the darkness of the present to the unseen warnings of the past. In a bonus-content episode rich with allegory, Yoda confronted his fears and emerged more confident about his own mental and emotional discipline. In an attempt to impress upon Ezra the importance of discipline, he obliquely referenced this particular journey. His point was that dangers are often invisible until it is too late, and that Ezra should avoid pressing his powers to the limit in the service of what he might believe is a good cause.

In an episode brimming with lessons for characters, there was also a nice reminder of the elusive nature of the Force. The Lothal Jedi temple seemed to have its own conscious, protective spirit. Kanan commented that the new doorway paired with their new set of problems, but while he might have meant this flippantly, it seemed very true. The mountain, at the behest of the Force, had allowed them access to a new area of the temple so they could learn new lessons. Combine this with Ahsoka's decision not to help open the temple owing to her ex-Jedi status, and one really got the sense that the mountain contained a living energy.

Access to the temple also provided a contrast between the Jedi and the Sith approaches. Whereas the Jedi used the Force to ask the temple to open up, the Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother used technology to scan the mountain and then forced their way in. It was against the temple's will, which is why the temple fought back. The red lines and circles that appeared on the ground as they forced the mountain upward reflected the fact that the temple feels violated, and it made the Sith acolytes pay for their trespass by fighting back once they were inside.

I love visits to Jedi temples, because so little of what happens within them can be explained by logical means. To Ahsoka and Ezra, Kanan simply vanished when he began his lesson. Ezra, too, later vanished while Ahsoka was describing Yoda to him. She looked up and he was gone. Ezra opened his eyes and he was somewhere completely different. All of this defied rational explanation. Yet that is perfectly in keeping with how the Force, as a supreme presence in the galaxy, works. Characters often comment on it, and both The Clone Wars and Rebels have portrayed it with impressive consistency: the Force works in mysterious ways.

"Shroud of Darkness" will no doubt resonate for years to come based on the things that it set in motion. Darth Vader may have only been in one short scene at the end, but one of his two lines conveyed the gravity of the path facing the Jedi. When the Fifth Brother commented that Ahsoka, Kanan, and Ezra were getting stronger, Vader replied, "It will be their undoing." Did Vader's remark reflect what the temple guard warned Kanan about—that Ezra's growing strength would prove to be a liability? Will Ezra, as the guard predicted, be "consumed by it"? That remains to be seen. What we can say at this point is that "Shroud of Darkness" was an immensely fun, fascinating, and thought-provoking episode, thanks to a combination of beautiful and sobering imagery; precise, faithful dialog; and mystical, incomprehensible, and vital lessons imparted by the Force.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Honorable Ones"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 24 Feb 2016 22:33:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

"The Honorable Ones" will be remembered as one of Star Wars Rebels's greatest achievements of character development. It took an underexplored but fascinating relationship between two mortal enemies and transformed them, both in each other's eyes and in the viewers', by forcing them to work together. Freezing temperatures, a serious injury, and a pair of hungry, sharp-toothed creatures tested their temporary bond, and both emerged with feelings that would have been unimaginable just a day earlier. Most importantly, Agent Kallus came out of the whole ordeal with what appeared to be a fresh perspective on his place in the Empire, which means there's no telling where his character will go next.

The moment Zeb saw Kallus aboard the Imperial station orbiting Geonosis, he leapt for the ISB agent without bothering to contain his fury. The two instantly sunk into their familiar close-quarters combat routine. They were playing their comfortable roles. Zeb was so immersed in that fight that he lost the chance to regroup with the Ghost; he couldn't retreat because he had fully committed himself to the duel, which is as good a metaphor as any for the perils of dogma over pragmatism. Kallus, too, couldn't let Zeb go. When the Lasat ran for an escape pod, he followed, and ultimately it was their continued struggle in the pod's close confines—an unwise brawl, but one that neither could resist—that damaged the pod and changed its trajectory, stranding them in the dangerous arctic wasteland of one of Geonosis's moons.

The episode took a smart turn early on by having Kallus break his leg in the crash. This both made the normally confident ISB agent unusually vulnerable and forced Zeb to make the honorable choice by letting him live. You could clearly see Zeb's facial expression change, once he saw Kallus's injury, from glee at the chance to avenge his people to resignation at the need to keep Kallus alive. Sure, Zeb tried to pretend that his choice was about personal satisfaction—"I'd rather wait for you to heal..."—but it was obvious that this was just his way of rationalizing his honor, of trying to avoid seeming weak in Kallus's eyes. In reality, he didn't just prefer a fair fight; he needed one. He refused to take advantage of an unfair fight, no matter how much better he might feel after killing the scourge of his people.

"The Honorable Ones" suffused tension through the two unlikely allies' struggle for survival on the desolate moon. Moments of humor—Kallus: "How is it that you have bested me even once?" Zeb: "Oh get a sense of humor, agent."—alternated with moments of foreboding—the "Chekhov's gun" moment when Zeb stuck Kallus's rifle in the snow and walked away, leaving Kallus to eye it cautiously—to produce a fantastic interplay between the two characters' ideological stubbornness and their pragmatic need to cooperate. There were also several moments left viewers to dwell on what the characters were really thinking, such as the exchange of glances when Zeb gave Kallus the glowing rock. Kallus regarded Zeb's generosity with suspicion, while Zeb returned the glance with a look that said, "Don't think this means I like you."

Kallus's panicky side also emerged in this episode, in one serious moment and one lighter one. In the serious moment, Kallus called out after Zeb as he walked over to the glowing object he spotted and picked it up. That moment—with his broken leg agonizing him and the cold settling in—was, in my opinion, when Kallus truly began to lose his composure. The other moment might have been more of a gag than a sign of Kallus panicking, but I have to mention it anyway, because David Oyelowo's delivery was fantastic in the scene. When Zeb swore as he climbed the stalactite, Kallus responded anxiously, "Karabast! Karabast! What does the even mean?" This was probably just a bit of meta-humor, given that "Karabast!" has become almost a Zeb trope at this point, but I loved it all the same.

Importantly, both Zeb and Kallus had a moment in which they saved the other person's life despite it not being necessary for their own survival. Zeb didn't have to keep holding onto Kallus as the two swung from the stalactite with the carnivorous creatures lashing at them below. He could have dropped the Imperial and it wouldn't have been a killing, per se. But Zeb knew he'd never be able to sleep at night if he did that. In that moment, he was responsible for Kallus's life, and he accepted that he had to protect him. Kallus returned the favor soon after, as Zeb scrambled over the edge of the cavern roof with the creatures on his heels. When Zeb saw Kallus pointing his weapon at him, he briefly thought that the agent had reverted to his "normal" self, and he appeared to curse himself for ever trusting Kallus. But then Kallus fired at the creature menacing Zeb; he, too, had forced himself to make the moral choice despite his allegiance.

Zeb and Kallus's time together taught both of them important lessons—about themselves, their enemy, and, in Kallus's case, maybe even his faith in the Empire. Let's start with Kallus's view of Imperial rule. Early on in their time together, Kallus remained supremely confident that he was on the right side and that claims to the contrary were based on lies. "You don't know much," he told Zeb when the latter impugned the Empire's respectability. It was a reminder that the ISB agent genuinely didn't see the Empire the way Zeb did—not just that they disagreed about the morality of its actions, but that Kallus thought Zeb was misinformed as to the facts, too. Kallus and Zeb also had the expected propaganda argument, with the Imperial talking about winning informants and double agents based on the supposed futility of the Rebellion and Zeb bragging about the rebels winning converts repulsed by Imperial brutality. Neither side seemed willing to budge.

But Zeb seeded some doubts in Kallus's mind as the two discussed Geonosis. Zeb asked Kallus what had wiped out all life there. Instead of refusing to explain or saying he didn't know, Kallus said something different and very important: He didn't ask questions. Zeb, of course, seized on this deeply important admission to urge him to do just that. "Afraid you'll learn the Geonosians were wiped out by your precious Empire?" he taunted. This seemed to embolden Kallus, who replied that he didn't see a point in doing that. As a good Imperial, he operated on the assumption that the Empire didn't engage in casual brutality, although later we would learn that he had already begun to consider otherwise.

Zeb again urged Kallus to chase the truth, and it was here that the episode reached its allegorical height. Deliberate ignorance is a common theme among servants of repressive regimes. If you suspected that your superiors were doing terrible things, but you didn't need to know the details to do your job, would you look into it? Many of the people who do so become whistleblowers and converts—the very people Zeb bragged about to Kallus. But many, many others simply don't know what their Empire is up to, primarily because they don't want to know. The obvious question now becomes, will Kallus remain one of them?

The first real breakthrough that led to Kallus and Zeb's rapport was their discussion of Kallus's modified Lasat Bo-rifle. Zeb begrudgingly acknowledged Kallus's "impressive" close-quarters combat modifications to the weapon but scolded him for having it at all, saying, "It's not a trophy." I really liked the way this initial discussion of Lasan unfolded. Zeb didn't say, "Ah yes, the rifle that you stole after you helped massacre my people." He simply commented on the weapon, and both characters and viewers understood that he was nodding at the dark past that bonded them—the painful connection that Kallus's weapon created between them.

But Kallus surprised Zeb, and viewers, by revealing the weapon's true past. He had received it from a Lasat guardsman he slew, who gave it to him as part of a Lasat tradition. In this way, Kallus had participated in one of the most honorable traditions of Zeb's people—and as the Lasat rebel took this in, he seemed to realize that part of his reason for hating Kallus had just evaporated. He could no longer believe that Kallus had besmirched his people's traditions by stealing a revered weapon. Instead, with his dying breath, one of Zeb's own fellow guardsmen had brought Kallus into a treasured Lasat tradition.

And Kallus had another surprise for everyone: A brush with a brutal, dishonorable Lasat mercenary working for the Onderon resistance leader Saw Gerrera. In a nice nod to The Clone Wars, in which we saw Gerrera clash with the Jedi over the nature of honorable combat, Kallus revealed that his first mission had been to Onderon, and that the mercenary had cemented his impression of Lasat by slaying his entire unit—even the injured, defenseless ones.

Two things happened in this moment, one within the episode and one on the meta level. Within the episode, Zeb took in Kallus's story with a combination of despair and recognition, and he tried to cling to his people's honorable reputation by saying, "You can't judge all Lasats as the same." Kallus asked if that also applied to Imperials, which was a lopsided analogy, but it did raise a question that neither of them wanted to answer: to what extent did one's membership in a species or government automatically mark them based on one's past experiences.

On a meta level, Kallus's story of a dishonorable Lasat informed his previous fear that Zeb was about to kill him as he lay defenseless on the floor of the escape pod. After all, the last time he was in that predicament, he only survived because Saw Gerrera's mercenary sadistically wanted a survivor to retell the story of his ruthlessness; Kallus's similarly injured comrades weren't so lucky. When Zeb let him live, then, Kallus realized a central lesson of this episode, with its contrast between Zeb and the Onderon mercenary: That Zeb was one of "the honorable ones."

After the two escaped the cavern, the Imperial officer opened up even further to the rebel fighter. "It wasn't supposed to be a massacre," he revealed, looking shaken as he recounted what happened on Lasan. "But I realized the Empire wanted to make an example." He then offered something like an apology for pretending to be gleeful about the massacre, realizing that in doing so he had only inflicted more unnecessary suffering in a manner that ran contrary to his idea of Imperial honor. Kallus's intent here was unmistakable: by unburdening himself to Zeb, was trying to offer the Lasat some comfort, to the meager degree he could. Even more importantly, he seemed to want to change Zeb's perception of him, which is a startling thought to consider.

Zeb returned Kallus's admission by telling him his name, and Kallus revealed that he already knew it, as well as what it was short for, which suggested that he didn't view Zeb as a mindless relict of a supposedly dead race after all. This admission—that he cared enough about Zeb to learn about him—also seems deeply consequential. Kallus is not like any other Imperial we have ever met, especially on Rebels. He genuinely didn't want Zeb, his putative enemy, to think of him as someone who delighted in mass murder. Zeb's opinion of him seemed to matter to him, at least in that moment.

In the course of their first conversation about Lasan, Kallus delivered what was perhaps the episode's most consequential line: "I was only doing my duty." One does not have to be a shrewd political observer to recognize the obvious allegory here, but in case your metaphor senses aren't tingling, I'll give you a one-word hint: waterboarding. As someone who loves to see these deeper issues of political and military conduct explored on Rebels—a show set against the backdrop of desperation and insurgency, with both sides facing internal pressures not unlike those facing our own government—I desperately hope that the series follows up on this introspective moment by advancing Kallus's character in a novel way.

When the Ghost arrived to rescue Zeb, the Lasat departed with a customary gesture of honor—and Kallus returned it. This deeply significant moment underscored the fact that, despite their status as enemies, Kallus and Zeb shared a lifelong connection to Lasan, albeit for grim reasons, and the Imperial officer didn't try to shy away from that.

When Kallus returned to his own ship, he greeted Admiral Konstantine, but his fellow Imperial didn't even seem to notice that Kallus was injured or care that he was safe. The symbolism here was clear: in contrast to the warm reunion that Zeb received—and that Kallus clearly overheard—the Empire didn't care about its ISB agent at all. In that moment, Kallus seemed suddenly forlorn, lost, unsure of himself. He seemed to want the feeling of belonging and importance that Zeb's friends gave him. Back in his stark quarters, Kallus set the glowing rock that bonded him to Zeb—and that he had uncharacteristically held onto—on a shelf. The episode ended with Kallus sitting on his bunk, digesting recent events with what could be despair—or perhaps the faintest glimmering of a fateful decision.

"The Honorable Ones" was a phenomenal episode. By forcing two mortal enemies to work together to survive, it changed how these two major characters viewed each other, produced revelations from the less sympathetic one that made him more likable, touched on the biggest issue of the galactic conflict, and opened the door to a dramatic character change. Depending on what happens next, that last accomplishment could become the episode's defining feature. Because in addition to the exciting appearance of Geonosis and the nod to the Death Star's construction, plus the strange and fascinating revelation that there was no longer any life on the planet—that could be an entire episode on its own—"The Honorable Ones" raised what I consider the very real possibility that Agent Kallus will have a change of heart.

There are many twists still to come in season 2 of Rebels. But what if one of them isn't in that tantalizing mid-season trailer? What if Kallus, inspired by his conversations with Zeb, takes the Lasat's advice and starts asking questions? What if the answers disturb him and, combined with his reflections on the Lasan massacre, prompt him to defect to the rebels or sacrifice himself to aid them? That would be a fantastic way to send off our heroes' perennial nemesis. It would create a unique opportunity to explore the concept of redemption, giving a run-of-the-mill Imperial officer the same fate that his superior, Darth Vader, would eventually receive.

The very fact that this is now possible speaks to how powerful and transformative an episode "The Honorable Ones" was, and I commend the episode's creators for putting together such a compelling story.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Homecoming"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 17 Feb 2016 22:35:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

"Homecoming" pulled off an incredible feat in the way it introduced Hera's father, the fanatical Twi'lek freedom fighter Cham Syndulla. On the one hand, Cham threw Hera off-balance and showed us a new side of the Ghost's confident captain, deepening our understanding of who she was before she was "Captain Syndulla." On the other hand, his approach to fighting Empire prompted the Hera we all know to assert herself in a way that reinforced her reputation as a natural leader. Cham's arrival exposed a new aspect of Hera's past and forced her to grapple with it, but with brilliant execution, "Homecoming" showed her emerging from the other side of that crisis stronger than before.

The way Hera's rebels behaved when they met Cham offered us our first impressions of him. Kanan's response was the most obvious. Cham was a legend to him, and so, despite being leagues more powerful than the Twi'lek, the ex-Jedi strove to impress the cell leader. He treated their encounter like a formal diplomatic affair; since Ezra was his apprentice and thus his responsibility, he endeavored to get Ezra to straighten up and make a good impression. (Kanan's defensive insistence that he wasn't acting unusual prompted the exchange, "Nothing. Just calm down!" "You calm down.") As soon as Cham appeared, Kanan adopted a formal posture and demeanor. He was so nervous that he bungled the introduction of his team mates, prompting an exasperated look from Sabine.

Sabine, in turn, seemed thrill to meet Cham because she had studied his tactics at the Imperial academy. Viewers of The Clone Wars would remember Cham as the fiercely patriotic guerilla fighter who begged for Republic intervention when the Separatists invaded Ryloth and venerated the Jedi for interceding when it seemed like no one else would. But for everyone who hadn't seen those episodes, it was important to establish that, in the interim, Cham had become a Big Deal. So his haughty response to Sabine's comment—"The Empire is still trying to figure out how to beat me"—was an excellent way to establish his fame and tactical brilliance.

As Cham began to interact with his daughter, however, it became clear that there was a gulf between them, a philosophical and pragmatic divide made worse by years of separation and a tense family history. This was a fantastic wrinkle to introduce into Rebels, which had not yet dealt with an obvious fact: that in this time period—prior to the creation of the Rebel Alliance that united many cells into formal fleets—the groups fighting the Empire operated largely on their own and often had clashing motives and priorities. (Another incident later would reinforce this theme.) Cham's priority was his own planet; he wanted to destroy the Imperial carrier over Ryloth to improve his people's morale. Hera, meanwhile, was thinking bigger, acting on behalf of forces larger than herself and putting aside homeworld loyalty.

Cham Syndulla's fanaticism produced interesting tension with the Ghost crew, reflected continuity with his appearances in The Clone Wars, and demonstrated how much value can be added to Rebels by introducing characters from the previous series. From the moment we first met him, Cham prioritized Ryloth; by the time of this episode, he had spent decades putting his planet first. In The Clone Wars, he expressed disdain for the Republic bureaucrats who abandoned him, suggesting contempt for anyone who forgot Ryloth. His love for the Jedi came from the same place: They had helped him free his people from the Separatists. On the way to the carrier, Cham recounted his and Mace Windu's exploits during The Clone Wars's Ryloth story arc. This wistfulness about working with the Jedi reflected the fact that they had stood up for his planet when no one else had.

Given all of his struggles—and given the fact that Ryloth remained oppressed after the Republic became the Empire, thus eroding all of his and Windu's hard-won gains—there was something understandable about the way Cham said, "I don't care about everyone. I care only about Ryloth." That, of course, leads us to his betrayal, another fantastic reminder of the tensions between rebel cells and the reality of tensions between freedom fighters with conflicting goals.

We knew that Cham didn't like Hera's plan to capture the carrier. We knew that he was disappointed with her for joining what he considered to be a quixotic movement. But I don't know how many people expected him to betray her or the mission. Particularly on a show like this, we're accustomed to the good guys just acting like the good guys together. Both Cham's and Hera's cells fight the Empire, and so we viewed them as one unit for the purpose of this mission. But Cham's loyalty to his people outweighed any need to be diplomatic with another cell. He took advantage of Hera and her people because that was the best way to strike a blow against the Empire that would embolden his people. His betrayal was an important reminder that not everyone who calls himself a rebel sees the fight the same way.

From a macro perspective, Cham's clash with Hera's team was the best part about his appearance on Rebels. But from a micro perspective, his relationship with his daughter—and the way this relationship made us reconsider Hera—brought the most to the story. Hera is the leader of the Ghost team. She is the pilot of the ship, the captain of the crew, and the most strategic operator among the main cast of rebels. She sometimes goes toe-to-toe with Commander Sato himself. She is never subservient and rarely uncomfortable. But Cham's arrival changed all of that.

Cham talked to Hera like, well, a child—because that's what she was to him. He was fighting threats to Ryloth well before she was born, and he continued to do so after his wife's death created a rift between them, one that eventually led Hera to leave Ryloth. With the benefit of far more warfighting experience, plus a broader perspective on galactic affairs, Cham thought Hera's fight against the Empire was unwinnable. As a result, her faith in that fight—which was stronger than her loyalty to her family and her homeworld—wounded him. In their first private conversation, it seemed like Cham viewed Hera as a rebellious (no pun intended) child, one who was acting out because she didn't know enough about her situation. This way of looking at Hera was unprecedented; before Cham, no one could have framed her life that way.

"Homecoming" capitalized well on the fact that Cham occupied this unique role as the only person who could talk down to Hera. The normally stoic captain's unusual anxiety around reuniting with her father was the clear emotional heart of the episode, and it played well in both characters' dialog and mannerisms.

Two things became clear at the beginning of this episode. First, Hera didn't want to deal with Cham. Second, she recognized that the importance of mission demanded it. When we later learned that her departure from Ryloth had created the strain between them, a third fact became clear: Hera was firmly loyal to the Rebellion and would do anything for it. Not only did she leave Ryloth's fight behind to join the bigger war, but she accepted the need to reunite with her father—and reopen those old wounds—if it meant securing resources for her new "people."

As those old wounds reopened, a new Hera appeared. The animators showed this by having Hera fidget absent-mindedly while she told Ezra about her father. Voice actress Vanessa Marshall showed this in Hera's initial private conversation with Cham. When Cham asked Hera about Chopper, she answered in a steady, emotionless tone, revealing the droid's name and using a male pronoun to emphasize that she cared about the droid. The subtext was clear: Hera had a new family and didn't need Cham in her life. She didn't seem to mind at all that her new family ties annoyed her father—quite the opposite, in fact.

Marshall also showed us another side of Hera by adopting the typical Twi'lek pseudo-French accent as Hera defended her participation in the Rebellion to her father. The meaning was clear: Hera was getting so angry that she was slipping back into her original ways. Perhaps fighting with her father recalled old times—a time before she abandoned her accent in an attempt to shrug off her bonds to Ryloth. The sound of her fierce words in Marshall's unmistakable tone, but conveyed with a different accent, emphasized that Hera had lived an entire life before joining the Rebellion—and that part of it was still with her.

While Cham was regaling Kanan with tales of the Old Republic, Hera was in the other TIE bomber pod trying not to listen. She actually seemed annoyed with Kanan for buying into Cham's mystique. Her exasperation was understandable: her familiarity with her father, from their family life together, let her pierce his legendary aura. Just as Barack Obama's daughters will never view him as the president of the United States, Hera stood outside the circle of worship directed toward Cham and grumbled as the worship occurred. When Kanan said that he saw a lot of Cham in Hera, she gave him a hard-to-decipher look, as if she wasn't sure whether to be angry or honored. In all likelihood, she didn't even know how she felt about the remark.

Cham may have temporarily thrown Hera off-balance, but throughout the episode, her tenacity shone through. Not even her father could undermine her in that respect. This was apparent when she dismissed her father's plan to destroy the Imperial carrier by pointing out that, if his people could have destroyed it, they would have done so already. She could see that he was there because he needed her help with any mission to the carrier, and she used that as leverage to win the argument (albeit only temporarily, as it turned out.) By standing up to her father, Hera proved that, when it came to the strength of her personality, she was easily his equal.

Later, when Cham betrayed her, Hera also demonstrated the strength of her commitment to the rebel movement. Even her love for her father didn't dissuade her from planning to take him down. Not for a moment did she contemplate letting him disrupt her mission. Her steadfast refusal to let attachments interfere with the bigger picture reminded viewers of her iron-clad priorities—and perhaps echoed the mindset that drove her to leave Ryloth in the first place.

Hera reinforced a third personality trait in "Homecoming": her leadership ability. To convince her father to give up his effort to destroy the carrier, she gave a speech in which she appealed to his desire to throw off the Empire's yoke. "This battle can't be won on Ryloth alone," she said. As she made the case that all rebels needed to think big, regardless of their personal grievances, and that the rebellion was something Cham should back, she ended up swaying Gobi and Numa. Perhaps because he was then clearly outnumbered, Cham stood down. Whether or not Hera had intended to persuade her father by winning over his compatriots, that ended up working. The incident showed that Hera was both eloquent and thoughtful, capable of convincing even her fanatical father's most trusted fighters. It was easy to see why people followed her into battle.

In addition to the clash between Cham and Hera, "Homecoming" episode offered other, smaller gifts to the audience. For one thing, Numa was back. Twenty years after her debut as a small child in The Clone Wars, Numa was fighting at Cham's side, offering yet another link between the two animated series. We also learned a bit more about Chopper's origin story with the rebels when Cham revealed that Hera had found him during the Clone Wars.

And then there were two great scenes with Kanan and Ezra. Their Force-powered teamwork to get through the closing blast doors and take out the stormtroopers was just fantastic. It was like something you'd see at the height of the Jedi's power or during a fabled battle of the Clone Wars. Aside from looking cool to the audience, the coordination involved also indicated that the bond between the two Jedi was deepening. The second scene, in which Kanan had Ezra mind-trick the carrier's captain into giving the abandon-ship order, was both a light moment and a reflection of Kanan's insistence on field training. And as I rewatched the scene—Ezra psyching himself up for his first mind trick and failing his initial attempt—I couldn't help but wonder if it was a tiny nod to Rey in The Force Awakens.

"Homecoming" depicted a fascinating and essential clash between Hera and someone who occupied a unique role in her life. By the end of the episode, they were on better terms. The moment when Cham helped Hera hold the carrier steady visually symbolized their mutual recognition that they "were always stronger together," as Cham put it. And perhaps Cham had grown to appreciate Hera's new family. He didn't know what to make of Sabine's plan to destroy the light cruiser, but maybe that plan's success prompted a reevaluation of her team. Either way, the episode concluded on a bright note. Cham remarked that Hera got her idealism from her mother, to which she responded, lovingly, that she got her leadership skills from him. In response, as they parted ways, Cham called Hera "captain," conveying his respect for her—a marker of the fact that their dynamic had changed, and their relationship had improved.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Call"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Wed, 10 Feb 2016 22:34:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

Right off the bat, I will admit that I am a sucker for space whales. The Voyage Home is my favorite Star Trek movie. But a cool-looking interstellar cetacean is nothing without a well-developed story surrounding it, and "The Call" ably met that challenge as well. The clash between Hera's pragmatic priorities and Ezra's more sensitive instincts, plus the purrgil's own role in resolving the final conflict, reflected some of the Star Wars saga's most enduring lessons. Character development, high-level takeaways, witty banter, and an acknowledgement of an underexplored meta-level reality for the rebels—this episode had it all.

Ezra learned a lot in this episode. When he first encountered the purrgil, they were a mystery. He was the only Ghost crewmember who picked up the noise they made—likely because the sound carried through the Force and only Ezra was sufficiently attuned to the behavior of the animal world. We've seen him calm and redirect loth-cats, so this was nothing new. In fact, it was a great way to build on the portrayal of that subspecialty of his Force powers. Even Kanan, a more powerful and experienced Jedi, didn't "hear" the purrgil, because he wasn't as good at fostering connections with animals.

Ezra's first reaction to the purrgil was child-like amazement. He didn't understand them very well, but he was very interested in them—and, importantly, not scared of them, unlike Hera, who, for reasons that will be discussed later, reacted with a closed, rather than open, mind. Kanan, reacting like a supportive Jedi Master, endorsed Ezra's friendly approach to the purrgil, urging Hera not to shoot them. I enjoyed seeing Ezra refine his ability to sense the feelings and intentions of other animals; it paid off for the Ghost crew when he sensed the purrgil calming down. Kanan seemed proud of Ezra in that moment, while the younger Jedi, analyzing his instinct for compassion, said that it "just seemed like the right thing to do."

It's worth noting that the entire episode turned on Ezra's ability to decipher the creatures' behavior. It was his sense that they were rerouting and that the Ghost should follow that brought the rebels to the fuel refining station. When Sabine's calculations confirmed Ezra's hunch, Kanan made sure to point it out to Hera. His exaggerated line—"That's so interesting!"—wasn't just an excuse for comedy, although this episode was rife with funny moments. Instead, Kanan was making a serious point: that the Force worked in mysterious ways, and that Hera should be more trusting of Ezra's instincts, despite her own misgivings about the purrgil.

Even in the midst of preparations for a high-stakes fuel theft, Ezra remained distracted by the purrgil. He was the only one who paid attention to their behavior as the Ghost surveyed the fuel depot from above. He noticed them dipping in and out of the gas while the other rebels planned the attack. Naturally, this observation became significant later in the episode, when Ezra's interest in the creatures' behavior led to them saving the rebels from capture.

Importantly, though, Ezra also saw—and became angered by—the station workers shooting at the purrgil. To someone with his Force-fueled instinct for compassion, the idea of shooting at the purrgil was unconscionable. But Ezra didn't see it as equivalent to stepping on a bug. He seemed to recognize that the purrgil were deeply intelligent creatures, with agency and intent beyond that of most non-sentient species. Hera thought of them as mindless monsters. Ezra recognized that they had reasons for behaving in certain ways, and he wanted to decipher those reasons.

Yet Ezra continued to struggle to make his voice—and his advice—heard. No one, not even Kanan, paid attention to his interest in the miners shooting at the purrgil. He correctly hit on a major connection between the purrgil and the fuel, but everyone discounted his intuition—even Hera, who usually nurtured his creativity. I initially read this as out of character for the two senior rebels, who typically worked in tandem to encourage Ezra to think creatively. But in this case, it made sense that everyone would be preoccupied with the practical concern of refueling, while Ezra basically daydreamed about animals. Ezra was the only one who saw past the urgency of the moment to develop an affinity for creatures beyond his immediate zone of concern—and that fits nicely with how he is being developed on Rebels.

Ezra's bond with the purrgil only deepened once he left the Ghost. When several of the creatures came up alongside the descending rebels, Ezra marveled at being so close to them, at their size and beauty and majesty. He clearly respected them—and they seemed to be calm around him. It was this concern for their wellbeing that led Ezra to stop Sabine from detonating the gas, which he had begun to suspect was vital to the purrgil's survival. Kanan placed a lot of trust in Ezra's instincts and priorities by letting him reconfigure their plan. In other circumstances, the rebels wouldn't hesitate to protect innocent animal life from oppressive sentient beings, but here, everyone besides Ezra was more interested in protecting themselves than in more secondary issues like animal welfare.

The payoff to this extended development of a bond between Ezra and the purrgil came when he found himself suffocating in the gas cloud and one of the creatures offered him his helmet. Ezra and the purrgil shared a deep, Force-fueled connection inside the gas, visually signified by the strange hyperspace effect that appeared in both beings' eyes. This was how Ezra learned that the creatures needed the gas to recharge on their long journeys—journeys that, as the audience soon learned, involved an amazing technique.

Only Ezra could have bonded with the purrgil in the way that he did. It wasn't just that, as a Jedi, he was unusually attuned to their "wavelength" of thought and communication; it was also that he, Ezra Bridger, possessed a unique interest in animals and their behavior. The purrgil on which Ezra had landed recognized that he was different; it sensed his good intentions, and in return, it saved his life. Rebels was teaching us the benefits of compassion and keeping an open mind.

Hera most certainly did not maintain an open mind during this episode, and to an extent, I can understand her anxieties and frustrations. As the captain of the Ghost, its fuel level and operational status were primarily her responsibility—as were the survival of its oxygen- and heat-dependent crew. Whereas Ezra could dip into the Force and indulge in momentary connections with strange beings at moments of relative quiet, Hera was always on alert during this episode, constantly trying to figure out how to reroute subsystems and jury-rig additional power for the next minute adjustment on their course to hopeful salvation.

None of that excused Hera's closed-mindedness, of course. While Ezra was amazed by the purrgil, Hera scolded him and Kanan for being naively fascinated by them. Kanan angrily retorted that maybe she should explain herself, so she did. And her explanation offered further context for her wary reaction to the purrgil. Her spacefaring experience had taught her that the creatures were just menaces, that they disrupted hyperspace travel and got people killed, despite legends about them inspiring the development of interstellar travel.

Despite Ezra's attempts to convince her that the purrgil didn't mean any harm, her travels had hardened her, had taught her not to take any chances—and now she had a crew, not just herself, to worry about. She wasn't interested in giving the purrgil the benefit of the doubt. When she heard that Ezra's concern for the purrgil had changed their plan, she grumbled, "Not the purrgil again," as if they were the subject of a child-like obsession on Ezra's part that had gone from a cute diversion to a dangerous distraction. She clearly thought of them as pests: She had carefully planned an operation, and now these mindless creatures were interfering with it. By the end of the episode, though, even Hera was forced to admit that the purrgil had saved them. The purrgil's role in the Ghost's survival and escape were a reminder to Hera—and to the audience—that things are not always as they seem.

Ezra's connection to the purrgil was the focus of "The Call," but this episode also managed to pack in a few other great elements. I enjoyed the basic premise—that the Ghost was running low on fuel, and that Hera had to ration it to the point that even the cockpit door had to be pried open manually—because it reminded the audience of the difference between the rebels and the Empire. Imperial ships have everything they need and ample secure locations to restock in case they run out of something. Rebel ships aren't just older and less powerful than the Empire's war machines; they're also much more vulnerable to disruptions due to the loss of basic components like fuel. When an Imperial ship is running low, it simply travels to a nearby depot. When a rebel ship runs low, it might have to undertake a complex and risky side mission just to top up again.

I also thoroughly enjoyed the humor in this episode, which I found to be more refined than the often over-the-top, in-your-face shtick that defines children's cartoons. Sometimes it was a throwaway line, like Ezra saying, "Well, I'm getting nothing on the ol' visual scanners," or Kanan complaining, "I can't believe we're going to lose to this guy." Other times it was a quick-witted back-and-forth, like when Kanan commented on the tactic of following the purrgil by saying, "It's not the strangest thing we've ever done," and Hera shot back, "Yeah, that doesn't make me feel better." (Another funny back-and-forth was when Hera said, "I thought you said the landing platform was secure," and Sabine replied hurriedly, "Temporarily! I said temporarily secure.") Other times the humor was more nuanced, such as when Kanan began to crow about the wisdom of not shooting the purrgil (because it would have wasted needed laser energy) and Hera switched off the comm system. When Kanan came into the cockpit to finish his sentence, recognizing that he was annoying Hera but not caring, it reminded me of the dynamic between a smarmy Han Solo and an exasperated Princess Leia in The Empire Strikes Back.

And then there was the moment when Kanan discovered that Sabine had painted his helmet in a riotous design that was anything but intimidating. "You said you just wanted to look at it!" Kanan exclaimed. "I did look at it," Sabine deadpanned," and it looked bad." It was like she couldn't help but be artistically expressive when she saw a canvass—or an offensively bland piece of armor. One imagined Kanan grimacing under his helmet as he prepares to go into a mission with Sabine's unique artwork covering his face. It's small moments like these that help weave strong threads of character development through episodes that are focused elsewhere.

"The Call" is a master class in the judicious use of episode time to serve core story and world-building goals. Most obviously, it built on Ezra's affinity for animals and strength in the Living Force. But it also used its exotic, almost regal space whales to convey two important themes that pervade the Star Wars galaxy.

On a basic level, purrgil expanded the portrayal of alien life in the galaxy, making it feel more like a strange, unexplored place, especially out on the fringes. As we learned in the episode's final moments, the purrgil weren't just unusually perceptive, able to detect incoming TIE fighters; they could also travel through hyperspace on their own, validating the old legends that Hera had heard. This was the perfect way to show that the galaxy was a bizarre but wonderful place, full of majestic, hard-to-comprehend things. The purrgil's very existence emphasized the notion that you never know what you'll find out in the far reaches of space. And, frankly, the idea of lightspeed-equipped space whales was just really, really cool and fun.

But on a subtler level, the purrgil's role in the rebels' victory over the Imperial-serving fuel miners also echoed one of the most consistent themes in Star Wars: the triumph of simple, sometimes strange goodness over sophisticated evil. From Gungans holding their own against battle droids to Ewoks defeating stormtroopers, George Lucas regularly imbued this type of conflict into the six films, and Rebels did the same with the purrgil. The mining boss considered the purrgil to be disgusting, just as the Imperials on Endor considered the Ewoks to be loathsome pests. The message—one that fit perfectly into the saga's underdog narrative—was clear: You underestimate and abuse seeming simple life at your own peril.

By conveying all of these important themes in between snappy dialog and revealing exchanges between Hera and Ezra, "The Call" solidified its place as a standout episode of Star Wars Rebels season 2.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Legends of the Lasat"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 6 Feb 2016 15:20:00 -0400

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I have never found Zeb, the loyal muscle on Star Wars Rebels, to be particularly interesting, so I never expected "Legends of the Lasat" to be one of the best episodes to date. But here we are. This episode didn't just advance Zeb's story by providing closure for his biggest regret; it also connected the resolution of this guilt to the most sweeping Star Wars story of all: the essential nature of the Force and the way it shapes the future of the galaxy. I have never been so impressed by the portrayal of the Force in an episode of Rebels. Simply put, it has never been so profoundly important to a story, nor has it manifested itself so directly and visibly in the events of the narrative. It is a testament to the talent of the Rebels crew that, from music to dialog to plot to animation, they wedged this sweeping exploration of the Force into a story about a former honor guardsman coming to terms with his past failure and future potential.

As Ezra observed at one point, Zeb was profoundly uncomfortable around Chava and Gron, the two Lasat refugees, for most of the episode. This was understandable. Zeb's identity up to that point was built around the notion that he was the last survivor of the Imperial massacre on Lasan. The fact that there were other Lasat still alive gave him cause to reevaluate everything, but he dared not hope for much. He had been trained as a warrior, as a stoic individual not given to flights of imagination, and he tried to shut out what the other Lasat were telling him because even thinking about his people was too painful.

But the other Lasat persisted, and in doing so, they revealed something about Zeb that even his fellow rebels didn't know: that he was a captain in the Lasan honor guard. It was easy to understand why Zeb hadn't told them: it wasn't a particularly bright moment. He blamed himself for his failure to protect the Lasan royal family from the Empire. "They call me captain," Zeb told Ezra later. "I don't deserve to be called that." Zeb's sensitive, reserved, and uncomfortable side was a welcome dimension to his character. He is always confident and strong in battle, but in this episode we learned about the part of himself that he kept hidden. His eagerness to fight the Empire has been concealing his immense regret at failing to stop them on Lasan; he has been pushing aside thoughts of his people ever since his failure.

What really set Zeb off, though, was the other Lasat's insistence on fulfilling their people's ancient prophecy: the discovery of the long-lost world Lirasan, with the fool, the child, and the warrior working in concert to lead the way. Zeb hated talk of Lirasan, and it was easy to see why. There were two basic reasons. For one thing, the Lasan massacre had sapped all of his hope for his people's survival, and he wasn't ready to believe in prophecies or other hopeful ideas. Even when he listened to the others describe the fool, the warrior, and the child, Zeb refused to accept that he was anything other than the warrior. It was the only life he knew. He didn't want to play some other role in the prophecy, because the whole thing seemed too disconnected from his reality. He thought he was singlehandedly carrying forward the torch of the Lasat, and he had oriented his life around being that fragile avatar of a dead race; the idea that things weren't so fragile must have seemed too good to be true.

The other reason for Zeb's discomfort with the prophecy was his warrior spirit. Zeb is firmly grounded in the here and now. He's not a spiritual person. There's a reason why the writers of Rebels gave him an exaggerated version of Han Solo's role as the naysayer of the Force in A New Hope. When Zeb interfered with Ezra's Jedi training, it was like Han dismissing the idea of an all-powerful energy field while Luke trained with Ben Kenobi. Zeb's warrior spirit, like Han's scoundrel personality, made him want to fight, not pray. He actually seemed angry that Chava and Gron were perpetuating what he considered to be a myth by discussing Lirasan. Not only, he thought, were they misleading the other rebels, but they were getting his own hopes up—and hope is a dangerous thing for someone who has built mental walls around hopeful ideas.

Zeb's frustration with the other Lasat was understandable. You don't maintain your warrior instincts by indulging in fantasies. Zeb had scrupulously built up the narrative, the self-image, of himself as the last Lasat, the keeper of the flame, the living memory of his race. Anything that threatened to undermine that narrative—such as two hopeful, mystical Lasat—was a danger to his understanding of the galaxy and his place in it. So he rejected what the others were saying, even as it sounded like a wonderful thing. "Everything is gone," Zeb angrily told Chava at one point. "We are not gone!" she indignantly replied. What she said was true: As long as any Lasat lived, the spirit of their people lived, too. But Zeb was too demoralized by the destruction of his society to think like that. It had become easier for him to wallow in despair.

After Zeb explained his failure to protect the Lasan royal family—and revealed that he had been "as good as dead" until Kanan found him, thus teasing a story that many Rebels fans will want explored—Ezra encouraged him to open his mind to new approaches, to seek redemption for his perceived failures by pursuing something that could build a better future. It was a sign of how close the two had grown that Ezra was able to convince Zeb—who had previously said that "chanting isn't going to help save anybody"—to give the Lasat mysticism another chance.

At that point, Zeb seemed to become a totally different for the remainder of the episode. The writers represented this physically by having him transform his bo-rifle into its original form and purpose, as a sort of divining rod for prophetic knowledge—"as the ancients used it," in Chava's words. Zeb's friends watched as he transformed his weapon into something they had never seen before. You could see, on their faces, a fascination with Zeb's culture, a part of which had been hidden in front of their eyes the whole time, concealed in a more militaristic form.

Zeb's inner conflict was interesting enough, but the prophecy itself, and the way this deeper dimension of the galaxy played out amid the practical conflict of Rebels, was immensely more engaging. The music during the chanting scene did a great job of bringing this larger-than-life element to life, showing the audience that the Lasat were tapping into something bigger than themselves, bigger than their immediate predicament. They were trying to draw on the Ashla itself.

One of the most amazing things about the Force is its universality—the fact that, while it presents itself to different spiritual cultures in different ways, it is essentially always one thing, uniting everyone. We're mostly familiar with it as the Jedi and the Sith experience and manipulate it. But in other parts of the galaxy, in other stories and legends, it has a different name, a different form. The witches of Dathomir drew on it to perform primitive, arcane magic. The Lasat, meanwhile, recognize it in the form of the Ashla.

Ben Kenobi and Yoda were right that the Force binds the galaxy together. But the Force doesn't just bind things on a mystical level, in the sense that it creates one universal destiny for everyone. The Force also binds things on an experiential level: it connects people, because all of their different forms of spirituality come from the same source, even if they don't know it. It truly is, in Chava's words, "the spirit of the galaxy."

The grand scale of "Legends of the Lasat" is what made it such a great episode. While the rebels were ostensibly on a refugee rescue mission, they were really participating in something much bigger than that—and a force much bigger than all of them was guiding events, in ways they couldn't fully understand.

I am in the middle of re-watching Battlestar Galactica with some friends, and one of the best things about that show is the fact that all of the characters' actions and decisions play into something bigger than all of them. Some of them are more aware of the prophecies and religious undertones than others, but all of them participate in foretold events and play fateful roles. There is an invisible hand guiding all of the story arcs, pushing things forward. And at times, event happening on the mortal plane brush up against forces beyond the characters' comprehension. There are high-tech ships and advanced weapons, but ultimately all of that sophistication pales in comparison to the scale of destiny itself. I was constantly awed by how Battlestar combined those two planes of existence to tell a sweeping story of humanity's struggle for survival.

I felt a similar sense of awe watching the more spiritual scenes in "Legends of the Lasat." When Zeb brought his transformed bo-rifle into the holographic map's projection field, he wasn't consciously doing anything specific. But the energy from his weapon combined with the light from the map to highlight a single floating world: Lirasan. The best way I can describe the power of that scene is to say the following: Despite all the Force powers and Jedi wisdom in Rebels so far, Zeb's unconscious discovery of Lirasan was the first time I felt like something bigger than the characters was interceding in their affairs. The Force itself seemed to be directing the energy charge from Zeb's rifle, and that was fascinating to watch and consider.

But that scene was nothing compared to the rebels' arrival at the space anomaly on their way to Lirasan. I've praised Kevin Kiner's music before, but the difference between the anomaly music and all of his previous scores is night and day. I have never heard anything that powerful, that haunting, and that mysteriously important on either Rebels or The Clone Wars. With one piece of music, Kiner perfectly conveyed the stakes of discovering the anomaly: the rebels were dipping their toes into something far, far bigger than themselves—they, like the characters on Battlestar, were brushing up against fate itself.

The prophecy came more fully into focus in that scene, as the mundane came into contact with the eternal and the epic. Zeb learned that he was both the fool for denying his destiny and the warrior for charting his own path forward. Kallus unwittingly became part of the story, playing the role of the warrior, a role foretold ages ago, without even realizing it. Zeb instinctively began guiding the Ghost into the anomaly with his bo-rifle, using it to shield the ship from the damaging effects of the anomaly while Kallus's TIE fighters were torn to shreds. Kanan and Ezra placed their hands on Zeb's back, as if to steady him not just physically but also spiritually—to buck him up so he could meet the weight of the prophecy bearing down on him in that moment.

A brief moment at the end of the Imperial pursuit helped convey the clash of the mundane and the eternal, as even Kallus's Star Destroyer was force to pull back from the anomaly. The greatest machines, this episode seemed to be saying, are no match for something bigger than all mortal beings and material things. The Force itself was protecting the people who were furthering one of its teachings, interlopers were denied that protection.

Without his conscious direction, Zeb's bo-rifle activated the Ghost's hyperdrive and guided the rebels to Lirasan. Watching this beautifully designed sequence of lights, colors, and music, I was struck by how much it reminded me of Kara Thrace guiding the Galactica through a FTL jump to humanity's new home, escaping a Cylon onslaught and fulfilling her destiny. What these two scenes shared, beyond the use of unforgettable music, was the intercession of something unknowable but instantly recognizable. Zeb's weapon wasn't magical, and he didn't input the coordinates manually. Instead, it was the Force itself that pulled the Ghost where it needed to go. Just like on Battlestar, a higher power was at work here.

Having said all of this about the spirituality of "Legends of Lasat," I would be remiss if I didn't also praise the inclusion of Hondo Ohnaka as B-plot. Hondo is one of the greatest inventions of the last ten years of Star Wars storytelling. He makes every episode in which he appears significantly better. Every writer seems to know how to write him, and Jim Cummings's performance is consistently perfect. I loved seeing him continue to work with Ezra, subtly training him to be a different kind of rebel/Jedi hybrid than Kanan by encouraging Ezra to adopt his own roguish tendencies.

After Ezra refused to pay him for leading the rebels to the Lasat, he said, "Perfect answer. I am so proud of you right now," which was just textbook Hondo. (Also textbook Hondo was the fact that, by selling out the Lasat to the Empire and tipping off Ezra, he was (1) playing both sides against each other, (2) counting on others to do his dirty work, and (3) correctly estimating everyone's interests and abilities.) In every scene, Hondo was just solid gold, such as when he tried to schmooze with his Imperial captors by patting a stormtrooper on the back and asking him his name.

Where does this episode leave Zeb? In a much better place. Even though he failed the royal family and the rest of his society on Lasan, he didn't fail his species. Arriving on Lirasan, he learned that it was the original home of the Lasat and that millions of his people were still living there. Zeb was clearly buoyed by this news; he wasn't the last of his kind, or even one of a surviving few. He had helped rediscover his people—and now, he could be a guiding force (no pun intended) if others emerged. "Legends of the Lasat" may not have directly served the meta-plot of Rebels, but it certainly served Zeb, by giving him a character-defining story, and viewers, by showing them another aspect of the spirituality and power of the Force.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Protector of Concord Dawn"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 30 Jan 2016 15:32:00 -0400

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In an unusual twist, neither Hera's wise leadership nor Kanan's faith in the Jedi philosophy carried the rebels to victory in "The Protector of Concord Dawn." Instead, the continued safe movement of Commander Sato's rebel fleet depended on Sabine ignoring her doubters and fighting an enemy she knew all too well—an enemy was as much a part of her past as her rebel family was a part of her present. It's been a while since Sabine has carried an episode, but "The Protector of Concord Dawn" reminded us that, when the chips are down, Star Wars Rebels can always count on her for an explosive resolution.

This episode did not go well for Hera, and I'm not talking about her injuries. When she and Kanan learned that the Mandalorian forces of Fenn Rau, the "protector of Concord Dawn," stood between them and a safe route for their fleet, they displayed an alarming naivety about the Mandalorians. Given how worldly both of them are—and given that they have an ex-Mandalorian on their team—I was pretty surprised that neither of the Ghost crew's leaders understood Rau's people well enough to know that diplomacy wouldn't work.

Sato trusted Hera, and by misjudging the situation, she let his entire battle group down. In an unexpected turn of events—given how tactically savvy she has been in the past—Hera's ignorance got two of her pilots killed and almost cost her her own life. Sabine later said that Hera's near-death experience was her fault, but that wasn't fair to her. It was Hera's fault for underestimating Fenn Rau and his people. Hera's failure allowed Star Wars Rebels to convey an unexpected lesson for a children's animated series: that sometimes you have to be aggressive in order to survive. You can't always befriend everyone who stands in your way.

If Hera was naive almost to the point of her own demise, Kanan wasn't much better. While he told Sato that his trip to Concord Dawn was about sabotaging Rau's ships so they couldn't intercept the rebels again, in reality, he was still pursuing Hera's dangerously naive diplomatic strategy. Luckily for the entire rebellion, Sabine—the only member of the team who could see reason, due to her familiarity with Mandalorians—stowed away on his ship.

As mistaken as his approach was, I did find Kanan's role in this episode fascinating. With Hera barely surviving their last encounter with Rau's forces, I could completely understand Kanan planning a revenge mission, even if it just involved grounding Rau's ships. Yet Kanan still found the strength to shove aside his anger and try to make peace with Rau. That's impressive, given how much he cares for Hera. (Sabine noted that he was too distracted to sense her presence on the Phantom, and that was clearly because he was thinking about Hera.) While it almost led to the rebel fleet's ruination, Kanan's fidelity to the Jedi code showed the strength of his character.

Even so, part of me wondered if Kanan was pursuing diplomacy out of respect for Hera's intentions or out of personal conviction. When Sabine stated her willingness to crack some heads and Kanan said, "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I wondered for the first time if Kanan weren't just going through the motions of non-violence. How could he really believe that there remained a chance to negotiate with Rau's people?

I suspect that part of Kanan—the cowboy part of "cowboy Jedi"—was screaming at him to abandon his pretensions and accept the necessity of violence. Yet his belief system told him to cling to peace at all costs, so that's what he did. After Sabine engaged her plan, and the two of them had to escape Rau's base, Kanan told her, "We are still not killing anyone." Sabine astutely noted, "You love making this hard for me." This exchange offered the clearest contrast between their approaches to fighting. Kanan, to Sabine's astonishment and dismay, would almost rather lose the battle than kill enemies who had no compunctions about killing him first.

In an episode with so much incompetence, the star of the show was the only person who seemed to know what she was doing. I loved the opportunity to explore Sabine's Mandalorian heritage, especially through a mission that pitted her against opposing members of her own people. As much as Hera and Kanan's naivety galled me, I did enjoy watching Sabine play the exasperated voice of reason. In scene after scene, she drew on her past to point out flaws in everyone else's arguments. "My people don't need a reason to pick a fight," she warned presciently.

Sabine didn't start the fight that resulted from Hera's poorly thought-out strategy, but she certainly had a reason to continue to it—and after watching Rau's forces destroy two of the rebels who followed Hera to Concord Dawn, I was right there with Sabine as she expressed her anger at Fenn Rau for hurting her friends. She wanted revenge, and we haven't seen that side of her before. I liked it quite a bit. Sabine has been on the sidelines in nearly every previous episode. Finally, she got to do things her way.

Before she could carry out her plan, however, she had to maneuver around Kanan as he tried his own approach. I liked that she made no secret of her disdain for that approach. "What's the plan?" she asked as they neared Rau's base. "I mean, if diplomacy doesn't work." That last line, delivered with unmistakable sarcasm, perfectly conveyed that she wasn't holding her breath for a kumbaya moment. No, she knew what had to happen, and while her motivation—"Rau has to pay for what he did to Hera"—wasn't the most virtuous, the outcome would serve the rebels well all the same.

Sabine's extreme competence was on full display on Concord Dawn. We have already seen that she's proficient with explosives, but in this episode, we also saw her demonstrate great stealthiness and athleticism as she snuck around planting charges and evading detection. She also deftly manipulated her enemies using their shared heritage. When she demanded a duel to the death, one Mandalorian observed, "No one has invoked the code since the Empire took over," to which she cannily shot back, "Well, who's in charge here: the Empire or Mandalore?" It was the perfect thing to say, and she got what she wanted.

Kanan's ignorance proved an impediment until the second Sabine put her plan into action. As she and Rau prepared to draw their weapons, Kanan urged her not to make new enemies—to which Sabine accurately replied, "He's already the enemy." While Kanan was right that Hera wouldn't want the rebels making enemies, Sabine was right that that ship had already sailed. Kanan, frustrated with Sabine for seemingly ignoring the principles of their movement, failed to see Sabine's true plan.

The next sequence unfolded brilliantly. Sabine proved herself to be a better shot than Rau—a stand-up-out-of-your-seat moment for many young Sabine fans, I'm sure—and she also demonstrated superior tactical skills, outwitting both him and Kanan. "There are alternatives to killing," she said, echoing Ben Kenobi aboard the ensnared Millennium Falcon in A New Hope. In that moment, Sabine showed that she knew both what to do and how to do it. She was the clear winner of this episode.

One of the coolest things about "The Protector of Concord Dawn" was Fenn Rau. Well, not Rau himself—he was a pretty two-dimensional character. But Rau's appearance on Rebels represented exceptionally well-timed synergy. The day this episode aired, Marvel released an issue of its Star Wars: Kanan comic book that featured Rau saving Kanan, his master, and their clone troopers from Separatist forces, in the battle that Kanan referenced in this episode.

"I was younger and more reckless then," Rau told Kanan of his heroics on Mygeeto. He either didn't see his current self as an extension of who he was back then, or, if he did, he was uncomfortable with how much he had changed, and he didn't want to admit it. Perhaps Imperial credits had turned him into someone without the scruples that led him to save Kanan's life during the Clone Wars, and he was cloaking this corruption in the guise of maturity. Or perhaps he was never cut out to work with others. "Alone," he said of the Mandalorian people, "is who we are." Yet that clearly wasn't an absolute truth, as Sabine could attest.

The tension between Kanan and Sabine's strategies was the heart of this episode, but the Rebels crew sprinkled in other notable as well. The premise of the story—that the Empire was squeezing the rebels' movements and forcing them to turn to unreliable hyperspace routes—gave us a sense of the larger dynamics of the brewing conflict. The fact that the Empire was paying Rau's Mandalorians to keep their system rebel-free also helped show how Imperial tactics extended beyond their own fleet's movements.

Sabine's membership in House Vizsla linked Rebels to The Clone Wars and opened up new storytelling possibilities, given that Pre Vizsla's Death Watch society is evidently anathema to mainstream Mandalorians, and given that Sabine seemed to distance herself personally from the house when challenged about it. On a different note, Rex's mention of Mandalorians training clone commandos offered what I believe is the first canon reference to that Expanded Universe concept, so that was nice, too.

Strong voice acting, animation, and music also enhanced "The Protector of Concord Dawn." The opening dogfight featured excellent camerawork, with the focus switching seamlessly between various rebel ships and their pursuers. The decision to play a Western-style musical cue when Kanan revealed his lightsaber to Rau helped emphasize that Kanan's people were more of a rumor than a reality at that point. And Freddie Prinze Jr. and Tiya Sircar's performances, which were strong throughout the episode, were particularly impressive at conveying the emotional tension as Kanan and Sabine watched Hera's battered A-wing emerge from hyperspace.

If there was a moment that encapsulated the central conflict of this thoroughly exciting episode, it was this telling exchange between Sabine and Kanan: "This Jedi philosophy stuff doesn't work for everyone." "That's why we're at war." It's true, as Kanan observed, that the New Order was the result of the forces of darkness eschewing peace in favor of order. And Kanan was right that, on a higher level, the forces of good relied on the Jedi approach to fight the Empire. But even the people who want peace sometimes have to fight, and Sabine seemed to be the only one willing to admit this in "The Protector of Concord Dawn."

"I hear we're taking prisoners now," Hera said at the end of the episode. "It was better than the alternative," Sabine replied. It should surprise no one that Star Wars Rebels, which is essentially a children's program, tried to spin the outcome of the episode as Sabine learning a lesson about the wisdom of not killing people. But that was only a small concession in Sabine's combat-centric philosophy. No matter what the tone of that last scene, her strategy of confrontation proved to be the correct one.

Kidnapping Rau—which resulted in him granting the rebels safe passage through his system, albeit under duress—might have been Kanan's idea, but Sabine's strategy made it possible. Indeed, it was her insight into Mandalorian culture, and not some Jedi theorizing, that laid the foundation for Kanan's gambit. Grabbing the leader of the interfering forces should have been the plan all along, but Hera and Kanan misjudged Rau and cost the rebels time and manpower. Diplomacy is a noble approach, but ultimately, what Sato and Sabine said at the very beginning of the episode proved correct: Mandalorians only understood strength, and showing strength was how the rebels won the day.

Dave Filoni has said that Sabine will prove to be as important to Star Wars Rebels as Ezra, and I'm glad that's true. If "The Protector of Concord Dawn" proved anything, it's that Sabine is the right kind of fighter for the fight ahead. Despite her age and the misgivings of her diplomatically minded friends, she knows how to handle herself, how to size up her enemies, and—perhaps most importantly for the rebels—how to blow a lot of things up at precisely the right moment.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "A Princess on Lothal"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 23 Jan 2016 15:57:00 -0400

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It's never easy to bring a famous face into a TV show about less famous faces, especially while that show is still finding its footing. Star Wars Rebels avoided showing Yoda on screen in his debut episode, it gave Obi-Wan Kenobi only a brief holographic role, and it has largely kept Darth Vader in the shadows. But at the beginning of the second half of season 2, Rebels is ready to start introducing bigger players in more commanding roles, even if it's only for a single episode. That's what happened with Princess Leia Organa in "A Princess on Lothal." Yes, she stole the show, but she charitably lent some of the show back to its main characters—especially the presently troubled Ezra, on whom she seemed to have a profound, and welcome, impact.

So let's talk about Leia. To be honest, I didn't care for Julie Dolan's voice acting. Her voice was too deep to credibly portray a 15-year-old. It also didn't have the right edge to it. Casting young Leia was always going to be a challenge for the Rebels team, and maybe there was no one who could do it. Regardless, whatever Carrie Fisher had that made her performance an iconic part of the original trilogy, Dolan doesn't have it. (At least Disney doesn't plan on making a movie about a young Han Solo or something like that. Talk about foolhardy.)

Leia's voice was the only thing I didn't like about her. Everything else worked so wonderfully well. Steven Melching's writing gave her wit and charm a chance to shine. Her interactions with her fellow rebels and the Imperials who were ostensibly on her side were both great. She was mature for her age, but not too mature; she didn't get everything right, but one got the sense that missions such as the one to Lothal were routine enough for her that she'd picked up a few tricks. Indeed, Lieutenant Lyste described her ships as "another meddling delegation from Alderaan," a line that offered a world of insight into Leia and Bail's covert activities. The fact that Alderaan was known as a planet of bleeding-heart liberals also adds context to the events of A New Hope. One imagines that Tarkin and Vader were only too happy to rid the galaxy of those meddlesome peaceniks.

With nearly every line she spoke, Leia revealed something about herself as a 15-year-old. From the line "There's no turning back now," we learned that Leia seemed to relish these kinds of risky mercy missions, where she would be charging into danger with only her planet of origin as a cover story. When she told Kanan, "I know who you are," she revealed the extent to which she was briefed on Lothal sector activities—and given Lothal's backwater status, this could suggest that she was fully briefed on all the disparate rebel movements, which would suggest that Bail trusted her greatly. Expanded Universe sources hinted at Leia's deep involvement in the early years of the movement. In the space of a few bits of dialog, Rebels confirmed this.

If Leia routinely went on these mercy missions, she would naturally have grown familiar with the ambitious, low-level Imperial bureaucrats watching her every move. "A Princess on Lothal" did an excellent job of showing this to us. After so many missions, Leia knew the routine, and she knew what part she had to play. When she said, "First I have to deal with the lieutenant," she conveyed both her irritation with meddling Imperials and her eagerness to begin the familiar diplomatic dance. As one might expect from her royal upbringing, she was easily capable of adopting a condescending attitude to throw Lieutenant Lyste off his game.

But this time was different for Leia. The Lothal Imperials brought magnetic locks for her cruisers and two AT-ATs to guard them. Leia was the one caught off-guard, and Rebels did a nice job of showing it. Kanan underestimated her when he told her not to feel bad because someone else's plan had failed; she half-proudly, half-sadly replied that it had been her plan. Even Kanan, who knew enough to recognize her as Bail Organa's agent, had doubted her seniority in her father's ranks.

The Leia we met in Rebels was already starting to become A New Hope's savvy planner and big-picture thinker, the tactician who tired of small thinking. "You don't understand," she told Ezra when he asked why they couldn't hand off the ships in space. "It's not that simple." This was a nice reminder that, while Ezra's experiences had taught him much, there was a world of higher-level planning that his team hadn't really engaged in yet. They were one small part of a big puzzle, a puzzle that Bail and Leia had to organize.

Rebels gave us both this hard-nosed tactician and a softer, more compassionate side of Leia. This made perfect sense. She wasn't just a senior rebel; she was also a 15-year-old royal diplomat. She had to know how to perceive what people were going through and help put them on the path that she needed them to travel. We saw her do this with Ezra. After overhearing the Ghost crew consoling him over the deaths of his parents, she demonstrated her empathy by inquiring after him and trying to raise his spirits. I suspect that the scene that followed will get short shrift in reviews of "A Princess on Lothal." But Leia's warmth and empathy are just as important to her shifting leadership roles—princess, princess-ambassador, and eventually general—as her stubbornness and political and military savvy.

Leia was well positioned to console Ezra. The best exchange of dialog in the episode was when Kanan said, "It's a challenge being his age with so much responsibility," and Leia responded, "I know that feeling." She might be much more powerful than Ezra, both on Alderaan and in the growing Rebellion, but they did share their youth and the weight of some unusual degree of responsibility. And Ezra's responsibility was considerable. He had to learn to navigate the power of the Force itself—and without the comforting presence of his parents.

The progression of the scene between Ezra and Leia in the Ghost's gun turret was very interesting. Leia tried to make Ezra feel important by telling him that she'd heard his famous transmission. But he didn't want to think about that message, because that's what had gotten his parents killed. It almost seemed as if he were growing disillusioned with the rebel fight; he certainly expressed his doubts about its chances of success. Losing someone close to you tends to plant those doubts. Leia saw the problem, and she knew she couldn't let Ezra succumb to his grief and doubt. She tried to convey to him the urgency of fighting.

Ultimately, it was Leia's peculiar situation—a person with wealth and privilege jeopardizing it to alleviate the suffering of others—that drove her point home for Ezra. She fought, she told him, because others couldn't, and by carrying on despite the loss of his parents, Ezra would be doing the same thing. She urged him to see that what they were doing mattered no matter how many people they lost along the way—not an easy argument for someone with few life choices to hear from someone with money and power. But it worked. Ezra gained the resolve to help finish the mission. And viewers gained a new appreciation for Leia's motivational ability.

But the princess wasn't done yet. She then gave the Ghost crew a pep talk by telling them that they had earned the challenge the Empire had placed in front of them. Just as the walkers and magnetic locks and extra stormtroopers were worthy of the rebel threat that the Ghost crew posed, so too was the crew worthy of meeting that challenge. Leia demonstrated her inspirational ability by convincing them that the impossible was possible—that they could free her ships. One by one, team members piped up to contribute their expertise to the mission. Even Ryder, who had sworn that he wouldn't risk going back to an Imperial prison, got involved again.

As fun as it was to see Leia do and say all of these things, my favorite part of her presence in the episode was her giving Lieutenant Lyste a hard time. She was clearly enjoying it, too. She was a skilled planner and liar, and Lyste was clearly neither. Her encounters with him suggested that toying with less perceptive Imperials was a fun bonus to saving the galaxy. The whole bit at the end with her grilling him over her lost ships was very fun. Imperials like Lyste, who command overwhelming resources, pride themselves on control, and here, with Leia, young Lyste was not in control. He was positively flustered. "Lieutenant," she asked coyly after demanding that Lyste lend her his shuttle, "did you lose your ship too?"

I think it's fair to say that Leia overshadowed the Ghost crew in "A Princess on Lothal." But that was fine by me. It was a treat to see her appear on the show. As a result, however, the rest of the crew didn't really have much to do except follow her lead. The one person who got close to sharing the stage with her was Ezra, whose naivety and impulsiveness contrasted nicely with Leia's worldliness and regal composure.

Ezra initially seemed reluctant to accompany Kanan on the cruiser-retrieval mission. This was understandable. He had just learned that his parents had died trying to break out of prison after hearing his transmission. Whether it was partly guilt or purely sorrow, Ezra, who despite his accomplishments was barely a teenager, seemed overcome with sadness. One can imagine how the loss of his parents might cause him to question the viability of the rebels' goals. (One can also imagine that defusing such potentially crippling demoralization had become a regular part of Leia's mercy-mission routine.) Understandably, Ezra seemed different at the start of this mission. Unlike Kanan, who recognized that Leia was in charge as soon as she descended her cruiser's boarding ramp, Ezra didn't understand why he should trust or follow her. After all, they were the same age, and here she was bossing him around from the moment her feet hit the soil of his home world.

Ezra being the same age as Leia made this episode very interesting for various reasons. For one thing, there was the contrast between their personalities and demeanors. For another, her ability to motivate him showed how much more mature she was, which played into our evolving understanding of who Leia was—and what she had seen and done—at the time of her capture in A New Hope. But there was also the simple fact that they were both essentially children trying to navigate a hostile and complex galaxy. It was believable, therefore, that Ezra would try to impress Leia by Force-grabbing two stormtroopers' blasters—just as it was believable that, in his enthusiasm, he would overcompensate and smack himself in the head with one of them. Of course, Ezra and Kanan's Force powers were a genuine surprise to Leia, and you could see that Ezra enjoyed being the one in the know while Leia gaped at Kanan's impressive takedown of an AT-AT walker.

Ezra grew to like Leia by the end of the episode. He enjoyed "making it look real," as she put it just before the rebels escaped. This, too, made perfect sense: Leia was in the same game as him, even if she carried herself with a level of grace and tenacity that surprised and intimidated him. As a 15-year-old Force-sensitive freedom fighter, Ezra is probably more mature, powerful, and savvy than most of the other young teenagers he's likely to encounter. That's why Leia's appearance was so important to his character development—she wasn't like other 15-year-olds. She was better than him at pretty much everything. She knew more, had done more, and operated a large stage than him. The fact that he eventually developed a respect for her aims and her methods spoke well of him.

Before I wrap up, I have to once again commend Steven Melching, who wrote "A Princess on Lothal." In addition to the great storytelling with Leia and Ezra, this episode was seasoned with high-quality, A New Hope-esque humor. Think of exchanges like "Do you ever listen to yourself?" "Yes, and I happen to be very interesting," or "More friends of yours?" "Yeah, I'm a likeable guy." Think of Zeb relishing the chance to beat up Kanan and Ezra and use the excuse that it was part of the mission. Think of the stormtrooper blasting away at the fleeing rebels and telling his partner, "They're taking prisoners? They do that now?"

Oh, and one final note: After Kanan took down the AT-AT with his lightsaber, there was absolutely a hint of Rey's Theme in the music. Who knows what that says about Kanan, or Rey, or both of them. Maybe it was just a subtle nod to The Force Awakens. Or maybe it really was something more. Ordinarily I'd dismiss the idea of a connection there, but after seeing the trailer for the second half of Rebels season 2, I'm not willing to rule it out.

With superb writing and excellent exposition of both its young hero and a famous face, "A Princess on Lothal" brought Rebels back onto TV screens in a solid way. It expanded our understanding of Leia Organa, one of the saga's most important and most beloved characters. Voice issues aside, Star Wars Rebels acquitted itself well with the tough task of believably establishing a younger Leia. Her appearance also moved Ezra forward on his path, meaning that, instead of displacing the core Rebels storyline, her scene-stealing presence amplified it. The Rebels team should be proud of "A Princess on Lothal," and I hope it serves as the template for future famous-face-cameo episodes.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Legacy"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 12 Dec 2015 15:15:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

"Legacy" stands out as one of Star Wars Rebels' best episodes yet. Not only did it answer one of the show's first questions in a compelling way, testing Ezra Bridger's maturity, but it also raised bigger questions about the nature and will of the Force. On a practical level, I enjoyed watching Ezra's journey through confusion, frustration, optimism, sorrow, and hope. On a metaphysical level, I was thrilled to get to grapple once more with the idea of the Force as a living entity, a character in a story. As fun as it is to watch space battles and cantina shootouts, it's equally fun to wrestle with how our favorite characters are connected to that all-encompassing energy field.

I appreciated the mixture of stubbornness and maturity that Ezra showed in this episode. It was, I thought, a realistic portrayal of how someone like him would respond in this situation. Yes, had developed tremendous talents and learned important lessons—including the temperamental nature of Force visions—but when the situation played to an instinctual need, like the need for closure and connection to family, he reverted to the more headstrong person he was in the past.

In the first act of the story, Ezra was insisted on finding his parents, ignoring Kanan's reminder about his last experience following a vision. When, during his rescue of Chopper and Zeb, stormtroopers and Kallus hold up their escape, Ezra's anger at being delayed propels him into a confident, masterful lightsaber performance that sends Kallus flying into a wall. Even Kanan, who no doubt saw the potential for darkness in Ezra's reflexive behavior, couldn't help being impressed. When the Inquisitors showed up, though, Kanan understood that it was time to yield—but Ezra didn't. They were blocking the path he had chosen—although, as we saw, they had another way out—and Ezra was furious that they were doing so at such a critical moment. "You are not going to get in my way," he said, sounding more like late Episode III Anakin Skywalker than anything else. When the Seventh Sister taunted him, there was real anger in his eyes.

When Kanan cut off the fight by blasting the door between them closed, it led to another important moment. Ezra looked angry at first. He wanted to return to the Ghost through those doors, and Kanan was responsible for preventing that. In his anger, he didn't consider the fact that there was another route back to the ship. Or perhaps he did know that but he was actually looking forward to confronting the Inquisitors. That would certainly be the more disturbing explanation. But either way, his anger at Kanan dissipated as soon as the older Jedi pointed out that he never even knew his parents. For all of Ezra's fixation on finding an important piece of his old life, his reaction to Kanan's comment showed that he hadn't lost sight of the importance of his new life.

Earlier in the episode, two moments showed Ezra flitting between a fixation on finding the vision and an acknowledgment of his gratitude for what he already had. Ezra thanked Hera when she shared Tseebo's fragments of information about his parents' whereabouts. He didn't learn anything significant, but he recognized that it was important to convey his appreciation. That alone was a sign of maturity, as was Ezra's insistence, despite the time crunch he obviously felt, on rescuing Zeb and Chopper before heading to Lothal. He understood his responsibility as a young rebel and he was mature enough not to let his personal quest interfere with his job.

Ezra continued to impress me with his maturity throughout the rest of the episode. When the Imperial fleet began targeting rebel ships, Ezra defied Hera's suggestion to blast into hyperspace, saying, "We're not leaving until the fleet is safe." Again, he made it clear that he understood the big picture and wasn't willing to jeopardize it to accomplish his own goals. That could not have been easy for him. By delaying his attempt to gain closure, he might have been squandering a time-limited opportunity to attain it. Whether it was due to his Jedi training or simply his immersion in a supportive, mission-driven environment, Ezra had learned how to make tough decisions for the greater good. In this respect, he had already grown wise beyond his years.

"Legacy" offered no shortage of rewards for fans who love the relationship between Kanan and Ezra. As soon as the master and apprentice arrived in Lothal's orbit, Ezra again expressed his gratitude—this time to the person who was the closest thing he had to a father. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," he told Kanan, in a heartfelt tone of voice. "You're always there when I need you most." As Kanan observed, he was trying to give Ezra something that had mostly been missing from his own childhood: someone who would stand by him when things got tough. Kanan had Jedi Master Depa Billaba as a teenager, and her loss had shaken him to his core. He wanted to give Ezra a different young adulthood—a better young adulthood. This was a really great emotional beat.

As we have seen, Jedi more seasoned than Ezra sometimes struggle to open themselves up to the Force and yield to its will. That was a major theme in "Legacy," as it has been in many Rebels episodes in years past. When Ezra was scanning the Imperial prisoner records with the Force, Kanan warned him, "Don't try to see what you want to see. Let the Force be your guide." Ezra faced the same challenge when he arrived at the ruins of his childhood home and Kanan urged him to be patient. "The Force is trying to tell you something," he said. "Listen to it." There are moments in Rebels when Ezra gets ahead of himself and tries to push the Force to answer him rather than letting it guide him of its own accord. But each time, when he finally just listens to it, he gets what he needs—as he did in "Legacy," when the white Loth-cat appeared.

What Ezra faced in these scenes is the paramount challenge of being a Jedi: training yourself to subsume your will, your goals, your priorities, to whatever flows through the currents of the Force—no matter how dire the circumstances are for you or people close to you. Ezra was barely a teenager. It must have been incredibly difficult for him to resist trying to direct the Force to give him his answers—an act associated with the dark side. Kanan urged him to truly let go and accept whatever the Force showed him in the prisoner records, and that's exactly what he did.

The confluence of events in "Legacy"—the Imperial fleet locating the rebels on Garel due to Ezra's slip-up, and Ezra's quest driven by the Force vision֫—made me consider the role of the Force in Star Wars. Although there are no canon sources that give evidence of the Force's sentience, I favor the interpretation that arises from the novel Darth Plagueis: that the Force does have some degree of agency, that it can poke and prod things in certain directions to maintain balance. In that book, Plagueis' dark actions sparked a backlash that led to the pregnancy of Shmi Skywalker. In "Legacy," Ezra suggests that the Imperial fleet's movement from Lothal to Garel was "a sign" that he was "supposed to go." The way I see it, this is correct. The Force was at work, prompting Ezra’s slip-up so that the Imperials' discovery of the Garel hideout could facilitate Ezra's journey to learn the ultimate fate of his parents.

When you're dealing with something as fundamentally inscrutable as the Force, there are many unknowns. It's hard enough for the Jedi to grasp the workings of the Force with any degree of certainty, and they can actually sense it. It's much harder for us, as viewers of Rebels, to know how the creators of those stories want us to see the Force. Along those lines, Ezra's vision in "Legacy" initially confused me. Unlike the one involving Gall Trayvis, which occurred literally as Ezra saw it albeit with a different context, he didn't actually experience many of the moments in the new vision. He was never standing in Imperial prison cell. He never looked down to see his parents sitting in their cell. Why, I wondered at first, did the last vision happen literally, whereas this one had some metaphorical qualities to it?

The white Loth-cat was key to understanding this. Ezra did literally encounter it (though that happened on Lothal and not in a prison cell), and it led him to the final answer. The animal was a metaphor, a symbol of both Ezra's life on Lothal and his previously shown affinity for communing with nature. Once we learned that Ezra's parents had led a prison break after hearing their son's transmission, it made sense that parts of Ezra's vision were metaphorical. The emotional rush from his parents taking action triggered the vision, and their experiences in the prison merged with his experiences to form the vision. They thought of him as they acted, and thus, metaphorically, he was there with them. There was a depth to this metaphor that thoroughly impressed me.

Another part of "Legacy" that impressed me was the amount of character development that Hera received despite not being on screen for very long. There was an expository quality to nearly all of her scenes, further developing her skills and role as a leader. Her insistence to Kanan, despite his impatience, that she had to be picky when looking for bases emphasized the responsibility she felt to avoid deadly mistakes. As the Imperials' treatment of Garel showed, the rebels in the original trilogy had good reason to select remote, uninhabited planets for their bases; they didn't want civilians to get caught in the crossfire, and this no doubt weighed heavily on Hera.

Later, during the escape from Garel, we saw Hera give Ezra an order to flee, then ignore Sato's exact same order to her. Yes, it was a little insubordinate, but in that moment, Hera knew what she had to do, and she was willing to flex her muscle to do it. It was a nice capstone to that scene when she took out the tractor beam—thus saving Sato's command ship—with a death-defying stunt, right after Kanan told Ezra, "She was looking after everyone long before you and I came along."

The end of this episode has proved controversial among Rebels fans. Ezra finally learned the fate of his parents: They died in an escape attempt inspired by his transmission, and dozens of rebel sympathizers are free because of his parents' heroism and his inspirational message. But now there is no chance of the happy reunion that some fans were expecting. Personally, I thought this was the best way to wrap up one of Rebels' longest-running mysteries. The revelation might have been heartbreaking to Ezra, but it also contained a glimmer of light: His words—"Telling Lothal to stand up," as Ryder Azadi put it—had made a difference. He had made a difference.

Ezra had another Force vision at the end of the episode, but this one was different. It was accompanied by Rebels' signature Force audio cue, which is heard whenever Ezra taps into the Force. The cityscape of Lothal changed before his eyes, to the way it used to be, and his parents appeared to tell him that they were proud and that he needed to "stay strong." "Remember Ezra," his mother said, "without hope, we have nothing." Ezra had given his parents hope, and now he needed to grasp a measure of that hope for the dark times ahead. Ezra's hopes had been dashed; he would never see his parents again. But instead of succumbing to sorrow, he sounded confident that he could do what his parents urged him to do. "Legacy" did a fantastic job of bringing Ezra to that transformative moment in his life and showing how mature he had become along the way. It was a tightly packed, deftly written, beautifully scored, and carefully thought-out episode, worthy of its status as a midseason finale. Now we wait to see what events will test Ezra's hope.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "The Future of the Force"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Fri, 4 Dec 2015 19:26:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

Even the commanding presence of Ahsoka Tano couldn't save "Future of the Force" from being a generally lackluster Star Wars Rebels episode. The story was thin, the characters received scant development, and one plot point in particular defied all logic and proper characterization. It felt like most of the characters spent most of the time running, and as a result, the episode never had the chance to settle down and take on any coherent form. There might have been a way to rework the baby-snatching plot, which first appeared in The Clone Wars, to fit in the Rebels context. But this episode's story was so thin and empty that it's a wonder it took 22 minutes to tell.

In a sign of just how little happened in this episode, there aren't many genuinely good scenes to highlight. One was when Kanan anticipated Ezra eavesdropping on his and Ahsoka's conversation and said, "He's already briefed on the mission," as he opened the door to reveal Ezra. His apprentice responded with a characteristically witty line: "Heyyy. She did say this was Jedi business!" In an episode with few standout moments, I appreciated this one, because even though it was included for comedic effect, it showed that Kanan knew Ezra well enough to anticipate his snooping. (If he had sensed Ezra through the Force, then Ahsoka would have, too, and she wouldn't have told Kanan to brief him.)

I really appreciate this episode's continued focus on one of Ezra's Force talents: the "talent to connect," as Kanan put it. We previously saw Kanan trying to teach Ezra how to soothe a loth-cat. It was a clever way to instill discipline in a rowdy young man. As we've seen, true discipline mostly eludes Ezra. He can only summon it when the chips are really own. Throughout most of his time with the Ithorian baby Pipey, Ezra was too antsy and distracted to be calm enough to soothe him. When it was a matter of life and death, he figured it out. Those scenes represented welcome consistency in terms of Ezra's Force abilities.

The only really, truly good part of this otherwise tedious episode was Ahsoka. The writing for her in this episode was so economical; practically every word invited new questions, or at least new thought. I loved, for example, when Kanan said that he qualified for "Jedi business" and she replied, "You qualify more than I do." It was a nice reminder that, while there's no more Jedi Order, Kanan was at least a member of it until the end. Ahsoka left early to pursue her own path. While she was disillusioned, he remained committed to the Jedi until Order 66.

Another provocative moment was when Ahsoka mentioned that she had been monitoring information from Mustafar. Given what we know happened there, it would be fantastic if we got to see her visit the planet. I also wonder what resources she has brought to bear to monitor the planet, and whether viewers would be able to put together any of the snippets that she, as a character, might not understand.

Ahsoka's last-minute arrival on Takobo was the best part of the episode. With Kanan overmatched fighting two Inquisitors alone, her appearance was practically a deus ex machina moment—and she got the angelic music to match. One of the things that makes Ahsoka so valuable to Rebels is that she largely stands above the conflicts, stepping in only when absolutely necessary to ensure the survival of the rebel movement (or of her favorite rebels). There's a certain dignity and power in that approach: when Ahsoka arrives on the scene, you know things have escalated to a new level.

And things really did escalated. Ahsoka wiped the floor with the Fifth Brother and the Seventh Sister, demonstrating a mastery of the Force far beyond what they possessed and easily batting back all of their attacks without so much as breaking a sweat. In a sign that this older, stronger, more composed Ahsoka was fully confident in her abilities, she accompanied her stern warning to Ezra that he should flee with a reassuring wink, as if to say, "Don't worry, I've got this."

When Ahsoka deactivated her lightsabers and bowed, in a gesture reminiscent of Qui-Gon Jinn, the Seventh Sister couldn't resist lunging. It showed how fundamentally undisciplined she was. Sure, compared to Ezra, she was the model of malevolent composure. But compared to genuine, serious Force-wielders like Ahsoka, the Seventh Sister is nothing. Ahsoka knew exactly what she was doing when she deactivated her blades, and the Seventh Sister never saw her perfectly timed move coming. Ahsoka grabbing the other woman's deadly spinning weapon was a true mic-drop moment, a sign of how monumentally superior she was to the Inquisitors.

Having praised the heck out of Ahsoka's role in "The Future of the Force," I now have to tear down another aspect of the story. The central problem with this episode, as I see it, is that Kanan failed to immediately recognize the Inquisitors' baby-snatching plan. That's just completely unbelievable to me. Agents of the Empire tasked to hunt down Jedi are apprehending children; what possible motive could they have other than to prevent Force-sensitive babies from becoming Jedi? At first, I assumed that Kanan was lying when he told Ezra that he didn't understand what was happening. But when he later revealed the truth to Ezra, I changed my mind. His reaction in that latter scene was so amazed, so alarmed, that it would have been an odd bit of overacting if he had known all along. Furthermore, if he did figure it out right away, why didn't he tell Ezra then? After everything that kid has seen, there's no reason to keep this truth from him.

Kanan's out-of-character ignorance with respect to the Inquisitors' plan was, frankly, troubling. There was no need to keep him in the dark for that long; he and the other rebels wouldn't have saved the day any sooner if he had immediately perceived the truth. Had there been a story-development reason to do it this way, I would have at least understood that. But there wasn't. The creative team did it because...well, I'm honestly not sure. Having Kanan fail to immediately realize what was going on is as nonsensical a decision as any I've seen on Rebels so far. Sure, he never completed his Jedi training, but it doesn't take Yoda to put two and two together here—particularly when Ahsoka initially briefed him by describing the mission as "Jedi business," which is to say, having to do with the Force.

Sprinkled in between these high and low-lights were a few other fun, but largely forgettable moments. Since this episode was so light, I'll briefly run through them. Zeb and Chopper acting as babysitters was positively perfect, because one would assume that they're the two worst rebels to take care of children. Indeed, Chopper suggested blowing up the Inquisitors' TIE fighters with Alora, the human baby, still onboard, prompting Zeb to act as audience stand-in and ask, "What is wrong with you?" Yet we discovered that Chopper was actually good at babysitting; Alora was quiet in his mechanical arms. And Zeb managed to quiet down Pipey, the other baby, at least until Ezra arrived.

There was also a moment between the Inquisitors that continued to show the contrast between them. The Fifth Brother acted more instinctively, rushing to the sound of a crying baby instead of stopping to seek out the baby in the Force. When the Seventh Sister doubted his instincts, he angrily said, "You would question me, Seventh Sister?" Not only do they not get along, but the Fifth Brother never seems to learn that the Seventh Sister is smarter and more perceptive. He did seem chastened when he fell for Kanan's ruse, though. His partner, meanwhile, simply laughed when her doubts were validated.

The conclusion of "The Future of the Force" seemed to set up three important developments. First, Ezra slipped up and mentioned the rebels' location, and the Seventh Sister's reaction strongly hints at an impending Imperial raid. Second, after defeating the Seventh Sister, Ahsoka heard her old master's new name for the first time—though she obviously didn't recognize it as such. "Tell your master he'll have to wait," she replied, in obvious and tantalizing bit of foreshadowing. Third, Kanan recognized that it was now the rebels' job to protect Force-sensitive babies from the Empire, suggesting that he, Ezra, and Ahsoka might step more fully into the role of keepers of the Jedi flame. "Future of the Force" wasn't that great of an episode on its own, but it might have set the stage for more interesting stories in the months ahead.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Stealth Strike"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sun, 29 Nov 2015 15:12:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

"Stealth Strike" might be as close to a perfect episode of Star Wars Rebels as we've seen in a long time. It ties with "Wings of the Master" as the best of season 2. Not only did it blend moments of humor with moments of gravity (pun intended), but it resolved some tension between two main characters, taught another character an important lesson about the past, and put a formerly background character in a central role in a way that hinted at the struggles of the growing Rebellion. "Stealth Strike" balanced a story full of homages with a raft of meaningful dialog and still managed to tell a fascinating story that equally leveraged the strengths and weaknesses of several fan-favorite characters.

The most important dynamic in this episode was the one between Kanan and Rex. The series has worked hard to establish that the two men aren't just separated by their fates after Order 66—one of them a discarded hero, the other an escaped fugitive—but also by their personalities and approaches to the continuing war. Kanan is an easy-going, fast-talking, roguish ex-Jedi. His distaste for the strictures of their new place in the broader rebellion was apparent as early as the season 2 premiere film, in which he complained to Hera about feeling uncomfortable among soldiers. In "Stealth Strike," Kanan saw Rex's complicated Clone Wars-era codes as "protocol nonsense," refusing to admit that they were instrumental in allowing the rebels access to the gravity-well cruiser. Kanan lives in the moment and flies by the seat of his pants; he has no time for protocol.

Rex, on the other hand, is a more regimented person. Despite leaving the Clone Wars behind, he remains every bit the soldier we saw on Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Protocol remained an important part of how he lived his life, because he was raised—bred—to respect protocol and the discipline it created. That's part of what made Kanan uncomfortable around him—his obedience to protocol made it easier to lump him in with the faceless troopers who have pursued Kanan and Hera's rebels for so long. But there was a purpose to Rex's protocol. Discipline isn't just for stormtroopers. It's essential for every army. Rex seemed to be trying to convey that to Kanan when he told his reluctant partner to "act like a professional" on their mission. The line was more than just a nod to the clone work ethic; Rex was genuinely concerned that Kanan's usual posture and attitude would get them into trouble. (Of course, there was no shortage of references to the clone/stormtrooper divide, such as Rex's haughty proclamation that the Empire's supposedly upgraded armor was in fact "junk.")

Despite both men's unease, Rex clearly respected Kanan, but for a long time, that respect was mostly deference to Kanan's old Order rather than appreciation for the man he was in the present day. The episode repeatedly emphasized that Rex fondly remembered his service with Jedi Knights like Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. When Kanan mind-tricked his way past two stormtroopers, Rex remarked, "I've seen better." It was clearly a reference to the adventures that The Clone Wars partially chronicled, but it also seemed to represent Rex's begrudging respect for Kanan's way of doing things. The mission didn't always have to be about protocol; sometimes, Kanan's more impromptu approach paid off. Rex might not have wanted to say as much directly, but he knew a successful tactic when he saw it.

One of the highlights of "Stealth Strike" was watching both Kanan and Rex sink back into the Clone Wars dynamic of fighting side by side and building off of each other's strengths. That took a while to emerge in the episode—and rightly so, owing to the tension that had heretofore prevented such cooperation—but when it happened, it was like something profound clicking into place. "I'll pull. You fire," Kanan said, preparing to use the Force to line up some easy shots for Rex. "Just like old times," Rex said, with an equal mix of determination and nostalgia. "Settle down, captain," Kanan replied.

You could do an entire half-hour podcast segment on that interaction, as layered and nuanced as it was. Kanan recognized that their predicament called for Jedi-clone teamwork. He knew that he had to use his unique ability to give Rex an opening to use his blaster skills. But Rex got a little too excited—the teamwork was stirring old, fond memories—and Kanan needed him to focus. But of course, that wasn't the only reason for Kanan's "Great kid, don't get cocky"-style admonition. He wanted to avoid the memory of his teamwork with clones during the war as much as Rex seemed to crave the same memory. The two men's partnership was, at this stage, still uneasy, even if it excited loyal viewers of The Clone Wars.

One of the tragedies of a 22-minute format is the preponderance of weighty themes that only get a few minutes of screen time each week. One such theme in this episode was the contrast between the old, decaying, and honorable Republic and the ascendant, gleaming, and wicked Empire. "Relics of the Old Republic" gave us a taste of this dynamic, and "Stealth Strike" brought it back, when Rex, having been captured delaying Imperial pursuit of his friends, came face to face with Imperial Admiral Brom Titus.

Admiral Titus was a Palpatine loyalist through and through, fiercely proud of his command and his Empire. Rex was a disillusioned war veteran who had seen good times turn to bad—and who knew that he and his brothers had played a formative role in the death of liberty. Viewed in this context, Titus's attempts to appeal to Rex's honor must have been doubly insulting to the clone. Not only was Titus trying to instigate Rex's betrayal of the Rebellion, but he was also putting a heroic spin on what Rex saw as his shameful role in the rise of the New Order.

"You were a hero once," Titus said. "You and your kind brought peace to the galaxy. ... I serve the order you put into place, captain." This debate between old and new, catalyst and final product, emphasized that new was not always better—that new might be stronger, but it wasn't necessarily more just. The Empire may be slicker, but it's not morally superior. The Republic might have been falling apart, but it was built on a principled foundation, even if it failed to live up to it. When Titus mentioned Rex's contribution to the New Order, the clone's face conveyed his mix of disdain, frustration, and shame.

While Rex wrestled with the face of the era he had helped usher in, Kanan grappled with his changing attitude toward his partner. Rex's sacrifice had won him Kanan's respect, even if that hadn't been his goal. Kanan initially saw it as solely a grand gesture, but when Rex committed to the diversion, knowing that rescue would be unlikely, Kanan truly began to appreciate Rex's commitment to the cause. Having rescued Commander Sato and the other rebels, Kanan had completed his mission. (Hera had never instructed him to keep Rex alive and safe.) He could have headed for the ship with the others. But instead, Kanan—who had always played it safe and shunned opportunities to stick his neck out for others—doubled back, seemingly against his better judgment, and rescued Rex. I appreciated the fact that the writing and animation conveyed Kanan's mixed feelings. It was clear that he couldn't help himself—and it was equally clear that he hated that he couldn't help himself. But Rex, he decided, was a "friend."

Kanan and Rex's evolving relationship formed the core of the story and the character development, but there was also an interesting development in the way Commander Sato viewed Ezra. Sato started off annoyed by Ezra; Hera had said that the boy would be useful, but as their rescue mission proceeded, Sato wasn't seeing it. Sato, like Rex, was a soldier. He heeded protocol, respected rank, and followed procedures. Earlier episodes, particularly the season 2 premiere film, highlighted his annoyance with Ezra, who, even more so than Kanan, disrespected authority and flouted procedures. After their capture, Ezra tried to reassure Sato that he was a skilled jail-breaker. "I've been captured many times," he told the older man, to which Sato replied, "You're not putting my mind at ease." It was clear that, despite Hera's high praise, the rebel commander saw Ezra as an annoyance and a liability on this serious mission.

Things changed when Kanan informed Sato of Ezra's escape. The commander began to recognize that Ezra was a capable fighter. Sato initially couldn't believe that Ezra had escape "on his own," as he incredulously put it to Kanan. But Ezra's Jedi teacher knew his student's strengths. He nonchalantly told the commander, "He tends to do that." Later, when Kanan split off from the group and left Ezra at the vanguard of the rebels' retreat, Ezra urged Sato not to worry, saying, "I've got this." Even still, Sato wasn't sure how good Ezra was. "You've got this?" the older man said, no doubt concerned that he and his loyal crewmembers were in greater danger now that Kanan was gone. But Sato soon discovered that Ezra wasn't just bragging—he really did "have this."

Sato's role on Rebels has been to contrast the mysticism of the Jedi and the odds-defying improvisation of Hera's crew with the procedures and command structure of the burgeoning rebel movement. He clearly likes Hera, but he also doesn't know what to expect from her team. His skepticism is understandable: He's in charge of hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives and a cache of resources almost as precious to the Rebellion. He can't afford to take chances. Before he knew Ezra's capabilities, he was taking a chance on the boy. Who knows, maybe he'll still regard Ezra with unease. Either way, I hope we continue to see Sato front and center, personifying the rocky transition from ragtag groups like Hera's to more united flotillas like the one we see in Return of the Jedi.

It takes a lot of work to assemble and coordinate a fleet like the one that massed at Sullust. Even though it takes place many years before the Battle of Endor, Rebels—through Sato and, hopefully, other rebel leaders—can depict the tension that is the inevitable byproduct of mashing together diverse teams composed of irregulars and, shall we say, strong personalities like the ones found aboard the Ghost.

"Stealth Strike" gave ample attention to Ezra's continuing maturity. One noteworthy but perhaps overlooked moment was Ezra's warning to the stormtroopers escorting him to his cell. "When I escape," he said, "I won't hurt any of you." Some viewers might overlook this as a simple laugh line; to do so would be to miss the significance of the statement for Ezra's growth. In contrast to Zeb, Ezra didn't enjoy fighting for fighting's sake. He didn't get a thrill from bashing his enemies' heads together. He knew what he had to do, and he resolved himself to do it, but he seemed eager to convey the fact that he was neither ruthless nor bloodthirsty. Granted, he was a bit overconfident, warning his captors in that way. But by demonstrating a calm confidence and disavowing violence for violence's sake, he reminded me of Luke Skywalker in Jabba's palace, issuing his last warning to the vile gangster even as the Hutt and his guests prepared to watch the rancor go to work.

When Kanan and Rex fell into their typical bickering, Ezra once again revealed himself to be wise beyond his years. He betrayed a flash of anger at the older men's pettiness, then took command of the situation by telling his two mentors to follow his plan. Like a child outgrowing his parents' ability to impart lessons, Ezra wasn't dependent on Kanan and Rex for direction. They still had much to teach him, but he knew when following their lead wasn't likely to help. Some may characterize this approach as headstrong. I saw it more as a refined sort of confidence—knowing when to step out on one's own without worrying about what one's mentors will say. Remarking on the situation to Rex, Kanan said of Ezra, "He takes after Hera sometimes." Kanan, mollified by Ezra's clear-minded, Hera-like rebuke of their counterproductive bickering, could only have meant this as carefully concealed high praise.

Although ISB Agent Kallus only appeared in two short scenes, the few lines he had helped flesh out his place in the Empire and his relationship with the Ghost crew. Agent Kallus has learned by now not to underestimate Ezra Bridger. But as Admiral Titus proved, the Imperial admiralty hasn't learned that lesson—despite experiencing more than enough defeats to impart such wisdom to anyone paying attention. The Imperial Navy is full of arrogance; Admiral Titus, an excellent example of this supreme overconfidence, remained confident, despite Kallus' warnings, that his cruiser's superior forces were more than capable of handling a simple boy. This contrast made me wonder what Kallus thought of the admiralty. Did he, like many of his Expanded Universe counterparts, believe the dreaded ISB to be of superior character to the Navy? He certainly hinted as much when he came across Titus' escape pod at the end of the episode and said, with a smirk on his face, "Had some problems with the boy, I see." (As a side note, I appreciate that Kallus, despite being a villain, has a sense of humor.)

What I loved about "Stealth Strike"—what made it the second-best episode of the season so far, tied with "Wings of the Master"—was that it didn't excel solely at expounding upon these big themes and deep character moments. It also incorporated lighter moments, meta-humor, and a bevy of homages. Before Ezra asserted himself to Kanan and Rex, for example, he struck a lighter tone, making up a story to avoid admitting that he had stunned Kanan and Rex. I don't care what anyone else says—I love Ezra's awkward, embarrassed, teenage humor. The writers consistently give him dialog that is alternately witty and slapstick, and it's totally believable that he would make up a story to avoid taking the blame for stunning his friends. (It's equally believable that Chopper would debunk the story by playing back a recording of the embarrassing moment.)

The use of meta-humor is a tricky proposition, but "Stealth Strike" pulled it off with—what else?"—stormtrooper jokes. Upon seeing the Imperial shuttle that was to ferry them to the gravity-well cruiser, Kanan said, "How is it the Empire lets us keep stealing these things?" Given how convenient such shuttle thefts are to the story, as well as how much the repeated theft of high-value Imperial property strains credibility, I appreciated the wink and nod at this trope. Kanan and Rex also traded quips about stormtrooper armor, which each man must have loathed for different philosophical reasons. "This armor doesn't protect you from anything," Kanan said at one point. Later, he told Rex, "Wow, you really do shoot like a stormtrooper," to which the older man replied, "It's this helmet. I can't see."

The entire episode was a fun Death Star homage, down to the Imperial officer boarding the turbolift after Kanan and Rex—a reference to Luke and Han avoiding a similar encounter in A New Hope. When the two disguised rebels stumbled through stormtrooper talk to bluff their way along, it recalled Han and Luke doing the same thing en route to Leia's holding cell. ("Large leak...very dangerous.") There was another homage when Rex said, "So much for stealth," and Kanan replied, "It's not like they don't know we're here." ("It's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here.") Viewed in the context of these homages, even Kanan's last-second decision to rescue Rex could be seen as an homage to Han's change of heart at the end of the Battle of Yavin.)

"Stealth Strike" excelled on many other, smaller fronts as well. I loved both the gravity-well cruiser's pulled-out-of-hyperspace effect and the Expanded Universe concept of the "interdictor" itself becoming canon. On the animation front, the shot of the gravity-well cruiser crossing on top of Sato's ship made the Imperial vessel look like some deep-sea monster closing in on its prey—again, not unlike the similar shot in A New Hope. Sabine's Imperial knowledge came in handy again, as she explained the likely size of a testing zone for a new type of Imperial cruiser. Her art also returned, this time with a purpose: she spray-painted a picture of Kanan and Rex working together in the hope that it would foster cooperation. And even though Hera only appeared for a few seconds, her scene with Kanan spoke volumes about her. She wanted, even needed, Rex and Kanan to work together. It wasn't just that Rex's military experience would be invaluable, as Hera correctly predicted; it was also that she needed the two men to start trusting each other. That insistence on trust and cooperation is one of the hallmarks of a good leader.

What made "Stealth Strike" work so well can best be summed up in two moments. One was Ezra saying, "Jedi and clones. Now I get it." The other was Kanan saluting Rex. In the former case, Rex and Kanan's begrudging partnership gave Ezra a true sense of what the good parts of the Clone Wars were like. Through his two friends, Ezra got a glimpse of a nobler past—one that will hopefully inspire him to live up to the wisdom and bravery of the Jedi of old. In the latter case, the very act of saluting showed how profoundly Kanan's opinion of Rex had changed. A salute is a quintessential example of military protocol—the very thing that the easy-going Kanan despises. But he offered one to Rex anyway, as a sign of his respect—and it doubtless meant more to Rex coming from someone who didn't like relying on protocols to communicate. By imparting lessons to all three of these characters, "Stealth Strike" transformed how they saw each other—and their mission—in ways that will hopefully resonate across many future stories.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Blood Sisters"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sat, 21 Nov 2015 14:58:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

"Blood Sisters" was another uneven Star Wars Rebels episode. Chopper positively shined, Sabine's past started to come into the light, Ezra offered some welcome comic relief, and the walking, clanking, gonking MacGuffin brought some quintessentially Star Wars humor to the story. In short, most of the characters were great. But "Blood Sisters" turned on the involvement of a new character, brought in to highlight an unknown side of Sabine, and that newcomer was poorly written to the point of logical incoherence, casting a pall over the rest of the episode.

One of the strong points of this episode was the way it revealed more about Sabine's past. I didn't realize that she spent so much time alone on the Ghost—I'd assumed that she'd want to spend time with the only family she had. It never occurred to me that, for her, old habits might die hard. (By which I mean the solitary nature of Imperial service, as seen in the Servants of the Empire series and the novel Lost Stars.) Just as interesting as Sabine's current apparent loneliness was her suggestion, to Ezra, that she had "not always" been a loner.

Ketsu's arrival began to answer some of the unspoken questions. For one thing, we learned that it was Ketsu who instilled in Sabine a love of explosions—arguably her defining character trait up to this point. Learning where that part of Sabine's personality came from was a welcome part of this episode. It suggested, as did some later dialog, that Ketsu used to be Sabine's mentor—and given how worldly and experienced Sabine seems on Rebels, it's fascinating to ponder a time when she was the learner, not the master.

Sabine, it turned out, had been a bounty hunter. That's certainly a past that needs some exploring. I understand that there wasn't time for it in this episode; I wasn't looking for all the questions to be answered right away. But I found it interesting that Rebels would take a beloved main character—a role model, even, for young children—and give her such a dark past. Make no mistake, bounty hunting may technically be a "grey" activity in the traditional spectrum of Star Wars allegiances, but there's no moral ambiguity to kidnapping people and dragging them to their deaths, regardless of what they've done. That's a morally repugnant activity. The fact that Sabine left it behind speaks highly to her judgment, but the fact that she engaged in it in the first place raises questions about who she used to be.

Ketsu was clearly a highly competent bounty hunter. She took out an entire squad of stormtroopers on her own, which was very impressive to see. But as much as her role in this episode served to flesh out who Sabine used to be and why she was no longer that person, Ketsu herself was a disappointment. She underwent a dizzyingly fast change of heart, one that completely exceeded any notion of realism. Consider the following story beats. One of Ketsu's first lines was, "I've changed more than you realize." Yet in this episode, she seemed to change all the way back. Ketsu later criticized Sabine by saying, "She was always soft." Yet when Chopper refused to close the airlock and let her fly her ship away, she suddenly "went soft" by saving Sabine instead of closing the airlock herself and fleeing with her bounty. Ketsu also told Sabine, "You can't trust anyone." Yet, despite not having to do so (she could have overpowered Sabine and escaped), Ketsu simply began working with Sabine when the Imperials attacked. And at the end of the episode, when Hera thanked her, Ketsu replied, "It's only money." A bounty hunter would never speak those word.

Sabine was right, earlier in the episode: Ketsu was getting sentimental. A Black Sun bounty hunter would never revert to her old friendships so quickly and under such relatively light pressure. The fact that Ketsu did so made the episode feel rushed, which was disappointing. It was sad not just because the episode suffered in quality but also because Ketsu held such promise in Rebels. Here was someone with unique insight into Sabine's past, someone who could bring out that past in Sabine and more fully show us another side of this main character. At the end of the episode, Sabine hinted that we hadn't seen the last of Ketsu. If that's true, I hope the writers do better with her next time.

On the surface, "Blood Sisters" was about a human friendship: Sabine and Ketsu. But the best parts of the episode dealt with friendships between humans and droids. The Gonk droid EG-87, secret information courier for the Rebel Alliance, was a standout part of the episode. Star Wars has always been about humor and camp, and this episode did not disappoint in that regard. EG-87 was, to put it bluntly, cute and funny. Gonk droids have always been fairly adorable, but a Gonk droid on an urgent mission is a recipe for brilliance.

EG-87 proved to be a very personable droid. He was much closer to C-3PO than R2-D2—always jumpy, perhaps because of his clandestine activities—but perhaps because he was carrying secret information in an unassuming form, he inevitably drew comparisons to R2. (There was some payoff to that thematic connection at the end of the episode.) The Gonk droid clearly relished the chance to interact with another droid en route to the Rebellion. I loved the shot of him bouncing and gonking as Chopper approached the cargo hold of the Ghost on his rocket. EG-87 seemed to be saying, "You're back! Oh, thank god! Hurry! Almost there!"

We haven't seen much of Chopper early in season 2, which is why I was thrilled with his standout role in "Blood Sisters." Like R2 with 3PO, Chopper seemed exasperated by EG-87, as if here was this new droid that he had to look after, and why did these things always fall into his lap? The dynamic there was clear when Sabine told Chopper to get EG-87 onto the shuttle, and Chopper began poking and prodding EG-87 toward the ramp. I loved the idea of Chopper being thrust into the role of protector for this high-value target—and whether or not anyone else in the story saw it that way, that was clearly what Chopper thought his role was.

The episode also developed Chopper's relationship with Sabine, using it as a proxy for his broader place in the Ghost family and even the Rebellion at large. Chopper and Sabine are an interesting pair: Both of them have strong independent streaks, both of them are annoyed by incompetence and amateurism, and both of them have an edgy side that sits uneasily with their friends. Perhaps for this reason, Chopper seemed unusually attached to Sabine. When Ketsu shot out the door to their shuttle and the air began rushing out, it appeared that Chopper released his magnetic lock on the cockpit floor to try to rescue Sabine, who was pinned against the open doorway. This action, which resulted in him falling out of the ship, spoke volumes about his loyalty.

Chopper wasn't just loyal. He was also inventive. He could have rocketed back over to Sabine's shuttle when he found himself out in space. Instead, he rocketed over to Ketsu's freighter and immediately set to work disabling her laser turret. What's so great about Chopper is that, as much as he's cranky, deadly, and a quick thinker, he's also adorable. His mannerisms, many of which come from his spindly claw arms, are inevitably cute, even if they're combative, like his "fisticuffs" gesture from "Always Two There Are." One of the best moments in "Blood Sisters" was Chopper waving his little mechanical arm in the background of Ketsu's hologram, signaling to Sabine that he was fine and he had a plan.

The entire Ghost crew—including the ever-reassuring Hera—might find Chopper annoying, but, as we saw in "Blood Sisters," his crewmates see him as one of them, as a true friend. Sabine even vouched for his commitment to the cause, telling Ketsu firmly, "He's a rebel." Few droids develop that kind of bond to their tasks. In fact, one of the main thematic roles of robots in science-fiction is for their programming—their automatic obedience to a job, no matter what its morality—to serve as a contrast with the free will of organic beings. Chopper's allegiance to the Rebellion thus marks him as a very different kind of robot—closer to R2-D2 and C-3PO than any other droid we've met, and apparently just as well-regarded by his friends as those two, more famous droids.

Chopper rewarded Sabine's devotion when it counted, refusing to leave her behind as the Imperials closed in. It's worth noting how unusual droids like Chopper are in the galaxy. We're used to R2-D2 and C-3PO, so we don't really think about how starkly they stand apart from their fellow astromechs and protocol droids because of their independence. This episode reinforced that Chopper was every bit the loyal companion that they were. It's fun to see Chopper in his usual cantankerous role, but it's equally fun to see him stand up for his friends when the chips are down (and, it should be noted, when Ezra and Zeb aren't around to rib him for having a soft side to his chassis).

Chopper got a nice moment at the end of the episode when he handed off EG-87 to R2-D2. Setting aside the obvious link between iconic Star Wars and new Star Wars that Chopper and R2's interaction represented, there was something else exciting about the scene. The droids weren't alone on the landing platform—Sabine and two of Bail Organa's guards were there, too—but it felt like a transaction between droids. Chopper, who had risked everything to stand up for Sabine despite approaching Imperials, was handling the transfer, walking the Gonk droid over to his new protectors, completing his team's mission. R2, who had proven himself to be resourceful time and time again, was representing Bail on the landing platform, imbuing a boring clerical role often given to droids with a sense of purpose and pride. Chopper even seemed to flex his muscles in front of R2, as if to say, "Well, there you go. We got the job done once again. You probably couldn't run this little Rebellion without us—and especially me."

There were a number of other things I enjoyed about this episode. I loved the comedic scenes, all of which relied on Taylor Gray's brilliant performance as Ezra. There were some very funny moments with Ezra and Sabine trying to find the courier and essentially harassing people disembarking from the shuttle. (They even tag-teamed one woman, who just looked confused and a bit afraid.) Ezra's continuing pursuit of Sabine, largely explored through fleeting dialog, resurfaced in this episode, with Ezra alluding to times when "I've maybe followed you, and you're angry..." Then there was that hilarious exchange between the two friends at the end of the episode: "Ezra, can I get a moment here?" "Sure...oh, you mean you two." I'm not sure why, but Ezra's shtick never gets old. For all the things that are special about him—his parentage, his life on Lothal, his Jedi powers—in many ways he's just a typical oblivious teenager, and the show does a good job of grounding his at-times over-confident personality in that inescapable context.

When it was all said and done, I felt conflicted about this episode. I enjoyed learning new things about Sabine, but Ketsu's transformation from ruthless Black Sun killer to warm and friendly ally made absolutely no sense, and the strain on credulity was enough to tarnish the episode. Chopper and EG-87 were simply wonderful, as main-character droids almost always are in Star Wars. And Hera even got to teach the arrogant Ketsu a lesson at the end of the episode, when Ketsu said, "I'm not sure I'm really for a full-on fight with the Empire just yet," and Hera replied, "No one ever is." Hera was right: Ketsu might have thought that the Empire was invulnerable, but it was only going to get more powerful over time, and at least the rebels were trying. "Blood Sisters" was a mixed bag as far as characterization was concerned, but it did open the door to Sabine's past, and perhaps Ketsu's next appearance will bring even more revelations about our mysterious Mandalorian.

One last thing: R.I.P., chipper and dedicated RX-series shuttle pilot droid, who gave his life so that a courier could deliver vital information to the Rebellion. We will not forget your service, and hopefully, neither will Star Tours.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.

Star Wars Rebels review: "Wings of the Master"

noreply@blogger.com (Eric Geller) — Sun, 15 Nov 2015 14:28:00 -0400

Lucasfilm

In many ways, "Wings of the Master" mirrored the experimental blade-wing at the center of its story. It was the product of many moving pieces—writing, voice acting, animation, and music—and to really deliver on its promise, all of those pieces had to fit together perfectly. Thankfully, like the blade-wing itself, this episode came out firing on all cylinders. Everything just worked. We learned a little bit more about Hera's backstory, we met a new ally of the Rebellion (and his whiz-bang prototype ship), and we were treated to one of the most breathtaking sequences of animation and music that Star Wars Rebels has ever given us.

The episode began on a rough note for Hera. During the first attempt to break the blockade, she pushed the fleet to its limits, despite the obviously overwhelming odds. She told the lone Corellian corvette to stay on course for the planet, and the Imperials destroyed it because of her advice. She was so focused on getting through the blockade to help innocent people—for reasons that become clear later in the episode—that she didn't admit the possibility of defeat or, when it came time, retreat. She also lost Phoenix Leader. As the surviving rebels regrouped and fled, you could see the regret and dismay on her face. She wasn't used to such abject failure.

Yet Hera still seemed confident that a second attempt could succeed. Interestingly, it was never clear if she actually believed this or if she just thought that the consequences of not trying were unacceptable. Either way, Commander Sato had to remind her that the Imperial blockade had already demonstrated its ability to decisively block their approach. It was a rare moment in which someone else admonished Hera, rather than the other way around, and it showed that Hera wasn't at her best. The urgency of the mission had blinded her to the futility of the existing strategy.

After Rex mentioned his friend of Shantipole, Kanan had to be blunt with Hera: The fleet needed a blockade buster or they were doomed to fail. Hera couldn't bear to leave the fleet because she didn't see the utility of the mission to Shantipole, but that probably had less to do with her carefully considering it than with her restless desire to reattempt the supply run. All in all, I enjoyed this new dimension to Hera's personality. In past episode, she was either right all the time or out of the picture. To see her actually making a mistake, letting her frustration with a costly failure cloud her perspective, was to see a new side to her character.

I loved the excursion to Shantipole. I loved the idea of a planet with a volatile atmosphere that someone had turned into a testing ground for an experimental craft. It was a nice marriage of mission and environment. The animation team crafted a gorgeous landscape and peppered it with nice reminders of its treacherous conditions; I enjoyed the fleeting shots of crashed ships strewn among the spiky mountains.

Unlike other recent episodes with a strong character focus but barely any story, "Wings of the Master" soared on the strength of the Mon Calamari ship designer Quarrie. Anecdotal Twitter evidence last Thursday night suggested that critical acclaim and fan love for Quarrie was universal. There was something quintessentially Star Wars about him: gruff, blunt, and grumpy, but also smart, skilled, and compassionate. This episode also made a fantastic contribution to Star Wars lore by telling the origin story of the rebel B-wings. It made perfect sense that many of the rebels' less conventional ships would come from prototypes designed by quirky recluses like Quarrie.

The odd Mon Calamari reminded me of Yoda in the way that he tested Hera. He really made her work for the chance to fly his ship. It made sense, of course: Like Yoda with Luke, Quarrie needed to see if Hera possessed the grit, fearlessness, and determination necessary to take his craft for a spin. I loved that he was very possessive of his ship; it added just the right flair to his character, making us believe that he had spent years becoming protective of it as he tweaked its innards.

It was on Shantipole that Hera explained her love of pilot: she associated the skies with the arrival of Republic heroes on Ryloth during the Clone Wars, and she wanted to get up there not only to feel light and free but also to emulate her saviors, to fight a good fight. When Quarrie tested her convictions by noting her willingness to shoot and kill, she impressed him by citing the necessity of fighting for a worthy cause. But it was the last part of Hera's eloquent speech that seemed to impress Quarrie the most, as she talked about the wonders of being in the sky. "It's all rooted in something I can't explain," she said. "A need to be up there." With that, it seemed, she had passed Quarrie's test.

It's important to understand how Hera's love of flight is rooted in her experience as a young girl on Ryloth. Whether or not the Separatists ever actually enslaved her and her family, it must have felt that way as the Twi'leks retreated into caves and mountains to flee CIS forces. Those hiding spots, buried deep underground, became synonymous with fear, retreat, and confinement both physical and political. Living on occupied Ryloth, Hera must have come to associate the caves with the powerless and oppressed and the skies with the powerful and free. The sky became a place of agency and authority; it was where droid starfighters zoomed around and Trade Federation control ships hovered ominously farther above. When the Republic arrived to free Ryloth, its clones and Jedi again came from the sky, cementing, for Hera, the symbolic meaning of the sky as a place of freedom. Years later, when Hera got a ship, a crew, and a mission, the sky let her emulate her heroes and saviors by taking advantage of its limitless possibilities and advantages.

"Wings of the Master" brought Hera's passion for flying to the viewer on an emotional level with the sequence in which she tested the blade-wing. It began with a great shot of Zeb and Sabine looking over the edge of Quarrie's platform, followed by Hera soaring overhead in the ship, as the music soared along with her spirits. It immediately became clear that she relished the flight, the ability to reach the level of Shantipole's winged inhabitants and zip between its jagged peaks. She was back where she felt most comfortable—back where the clone gunships had appeared to free her and her family from Count Dooku's armies.

I cannot say enough about the music in this episode. Our first taste of composer Kevin Kiner's latest tour de force accompanied our first glimpse of Quarrie's blade-wing. There was an inspirational vibe to the notes, putting a charge in the air as Hera first saw the blade-wing, pilot meeting craft. When she finally took flight, Kiner gave us this amazing, soaring theme that, as I understand it, intentionally echoed the joy and exhileration of The Rocketeer. It was without a doubt the series' best music so far. The best way I can describe it is to quote Quarrie and say, "Masterful."

The rest of the episode unfolded rather quickly, the core of the story having run its course on Shantipole. The triumphant rebel fleet music from the end of season 1 played as Hera made her last-minute arrival to knock out an Imperial cruiser and let the Ghost deliver its supplies to beleaguered resistance fighters. Hera had redeemed herself for her earlier failure. Thanks to her, good people were going to live to fight another day.

Before I wrap up, a few miscellaneous thoughts. I enjoyed seeing the rebels helping the needy instead of carrying out another attack, because it reminded viewers that the Rebellion was a humanitarian operation as much as it was a military one. Kanan's insistence on making the second run in the Ghost was another reflection of this selflessness, which is a major distinguishing factor between the rebels and the Imperials that sometimes gets lost in the broader war. Trying to break the blockade in the Ghost might have been foolish, but it was also realistic: the people of Ibaar needed those supplies urgently, and the Rebellion owed it to them to try again.

I also liked seeing how Kallus reacted to the fact that the Ghost was carrying the supplies. Not only did he know its real name at this point, but he was familiar enough with the Ghost crew's relentless gallantry to find it deliciously appropriate that they were making themselves the target. I did find it a bit unlikely that he would just happen to be leading the blockade of the planet that Commander Sato's group decided to help, but perhaps he's somehow following them in an attempt to get revenge on Hera's team. This episode certainly showed that his frequent run-ins with them had created some sort of bond between them.

With "Wings of the Master," Star Wars Rebels reminded us of how it excels when all the pieces fall into place, with the perfect blend of characterization, stakes, writing, exposition, lore, and, of course, animation and music. As a longtime fan of the underappreciated B-wings, I loved seeing Rebels tackle their origins within the Alliance. And as one of many people who had bemoaned the lack of Hera in earlier episodes, I was thrilled not only with the episode's focus on her but also with the payoff to her heroism: a promotion to Phoenix Leader, which will hopefully result in more missions away from the Ghost with her fellow fighter pilots. "Wings of the Master" didn't just elevate Hera's status within this slice of the Rebellion. It also brought Rebels itself to soaring new heights.

You can read all of my Rebels reviews right here.