Let’s imagine a day thirty years in the future. The children currently sitting across from me are in their early forties, likely with children of their own. Their nostalgia for the heroes of their youth has become highly marketable, and Hollywood has taken notice. It’s time to reassemble the original Avengers.
Of course, these actors have all moved on. They’re way past their prime, but the fan clamor is intense, and they’ve all been good soldiers over the years of nerd conventions and interviews, so convincing them to return is no hard task. Robert Downey Jr. has several Oscars by now, and is eager to headline; likewise Chris Evans, always a serious, versatile actor of the Tom Hanks school is ready to don his shield, if for no other reason than his grandkids talk him into it. Others are a little trickier, but most are cheerleading for the project. They’re working but could still use the career boost.
The movie premieres and audiences cheer, and the magic is back for a new generation of Marvel fans. And even though we only get a glimpse of Steve Rogers near the end of the film, his presence is what catapults the movie from a fun sequel to a powerful new franchise, and everyone is clamoring for the next installment, centered around the beloved Captain America. Fathers tell their kids how awesome Cap is, and everyone is ready to explode when the first trailer of the new Avengers film is released.
And then they see it.
Everyone is confused as to why Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, who always held the moral compass for the group, who knew right from wrong and never wavered, even when he was the only one – a self-confident, encouraging model of a true leader—ends up being portrayed as a self-loathing, disenfranchised, calloused jerk.
And this is my problem with The Last Jedi.
Luke Skywalker is an amazing character with a complex arc, from whiny teenager seeking adventure to the load-bearing apprentice learning his past, to the calm, confident Jedi with determination and patience, surpassed only by the power he wields when motivated by love. A perfect character: flawed, but educated by failure and ultimately empowered by perseverance. This is real. I know men who have lived this out.
The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. – John 1:5
Most of the men I call friends will readily admit their imperfection, but though they wrestle with temptation from time to time, they don’t fear it. It doesn’t own them. They look it in the face and kick it in the teeth, and win. There are some rare exceptions even among those who carry the mantle of leadership, but the exception does not define the rule. Strong characters who do the right thing, who shirk passivity and engage their challenges are all around us.
Need some examples? Try the Team Never Quit podcast. Those men and women’s stories will knock your socks off, but it’s not just there. I’ve heard personal testimony from a man who practically crawled through miles of treacherous country just to go to church, and did so with joy in his heart. I’ve read history books full of great individuals who never wavered, never doubted themselves, and who changed the course of history – sometimes by victory, sometimes by failure, sometimes through death. And it should mean more to us than an extra four or five holidays off every year.
One of my friends is raising eight kids. He and his wife have been foster parents for as long as I’ve known them, and do you know what? Not once in fifteen years have I ever heard him brood about how hard it is to make right choices. He’s been through plenty of heartache, more than I have perhaps, but he carries on. He leads, and we’ve been winning this war together. He’s real. Heroes are real. We should be modeling our fictionalized ones as so.
One of the greatest characters in all of fiction, Aragorn of The Lord of the Rings, was always strong. He never doubted his ability, didn’t turn away from the woman he loved, held his mantle high and always spoke and acted with the authority of the king he was destined to be. But you would never have known that from the movies. They decided to re-write the character as self-doubting and making silly decisions. They did it with Faramir, too. I could write a dissertation on the injustice done to him. Why? Why this unholy trend toward pathetic characters who wilt at adversity, and throw up their hands at failure?
Star Wars, but more specifically Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, taught me that the lives of the ones you care about matter, that anyone can be redeemed, and that there is a power and a place for righteous anger. It taught me to stand up and engage the evil around me, and that even if I fail, the battle is not the war.
When you take a character who stands for all of these things and throws it all away for a cheap gag in an attempt to redirect a story, you do more than harm the character. You marginalize what they stood for. The gentle strength of great characters that get it right may be uncommon in Hollywood, or in literature, but it certainly is not in the real world. Not yet, anyway.