Discerning the Spirits of the Force, Episode V: Rebels, Scoundrels, and Other Legendary Outlaws

       This may seem overdue, as it has been a few months since the release of Solo: A Star Wars Story.  However, as the release came closer, I began to realize my thoughts on it just might be connected to some broader concepts, which link various pieces together.  In fact, it soon became apparent that this would even be a fun "crossover" post, as it would double as a follow-up to the old consideration of the Antihero, posted back in 2017.  It pertains not only to the latest Star Wars movies, but a few different blockbusters from this summer, which we'll come back to at the end.

Seriously, lots of potential for spoilers, not only for Star Wars movies,
but also the "Ocean's" movies, Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Ant-Man. 
Proceed with caution.

Good Guys and Scoundrels:

       Consider the similar, yet clearly contrasting, questions in the two spin-off Star Wars Stories we have seen thus far (Solo and Rogue One), of whether the 'rebel without a cause' at the heart of the story will ever devote themselves to the cause.  On one hand, we see in Jyn Erso (Rogue One) an antihero whose hope is reawakened and not only devotes herself to the cause, but is even able to restore hope to members of the rebellion at a key point.  On the other hand, in young Han Solo, we see a rebel who is determined to remain 'without a cause.'  He wrestles with and is trying to either hide or suppress that 'good guy' instinct that Qi'ra recognizes within him.  He will not commit to the cause, but he is willing to go out of his way to help the rebels (with a cause), in the face of their plight.  Young Han is insistent upon maintaining his devotion to his own self-seeking, which is more than enough cause (in his mind) for his living outside of the law.

       Of course, this will all only be overcome by his love for Leia and his friendship with Luke.  It is these bonds that will become the hope which finally awakens the 'good guy' within Han, and will finally align him with the cause of those seeking to promote justice throughout the galaxy.  These relationships are what make us.  They can be our greatest strength and also leave us vulnerable.  That is the nature of love.  I discussed this already at length in both Episodes I and IV.  It is no surprise that, when Han and Leia's son turns to the dark side, this would cut Han very deeply.  How might he respond to that wound?  While I think there is indeed something true and beautiful about the insistence of Solo: A Star Wars Story that the deepest truth at the core of Han's identity is indeed the 'good guy,' still he has conditioned himself to live his life in a certain way, which can be triggered by certain stimuli.  The 'good guy,' which Qi'ra recognized waiting to come to life within Han, is still the 'scoundrel' that Leia recognized in his behavior (Empire Strikes Back).  This is the complex reality of human nature.  We're a mess... a mess, encapsulating a beautiful mystery.  Part of what this means, in practice, is simply that good people sometimes do bad things.  Sometimes they even have bad, self-destructive habits, which are also hurtful to those around them.  It is all well and good to be the good guy.  But, we still must work, with both humility and determination, to overcome whatever habits sometimes cause us to act like a scoundrel.  One of society's favorite mottos is also one of the most destructive to genuine human growth: just be a good person.  This becomes a comfortable way of avoiding any concrete judgment about our specific actions, and this prevents us from identifying those behaviors that we may need to work to overcome.  The notion of calling to repentance offends our postmodern sensibilities, because our mentality presumes it is judgmental.  In fact, the call to repentance presumes a number of very positive judgments about the character of a person: that we are made for the good, that we are capable of that good, that we desire that good, that we would be willing to sacrifice and even to change in order to achieve it.  In short, it presumes that at our core, we are the 'good guy' even if we sometimes act like the scoundrel.  If we cannot realize this, we will never see the growth of the antihero into true heroism, in fiction or in our own lives.

       In truth, Han Solo is one of the finest examples in modern cinema of that growth of the antihero into a true hero.  And the conclusion of his story, in The Force Awakens, was a beautiful crowning of that antihero's journey.  There are some among what might be called the "traditional fans" who were dissatisfied with his part in that movie.  It seems one of their objections is similar to that of the role of Luke in The Last Jedi, and so my response is very similar.  The notion that Han and Leia would have separated, as they each dealt with the tragedy regarding their son in their own way, was a bit too much for many fans to handle.  As I said regarding Luke, I get it.  We don't like to see them like that.  But, I think if we take seriously the 'mess, encapsulating a beautiful mystery' that each of those characters always was, those unfortunate places we find them in at their entry into the sequel trilogy is still hard to watch, but it is not untrue to their characters.  Is it necessary that they would have separated?  No, of course not.  But, is it believable?  Yes, it is.  On one level, would I have rather they never separated to begin with?  Yes, of course.  But, their reunion was so beautiful it almost made it worth it (keeping in mind this is a fictional story, not reality).  Whatever events surrounded the turning of Ben Solo to the dark side became a trigger for Han to fall back into that comfortable mask of the scoundrel, after being conditioned to run from meaning and purpose and anything that would call him to change, in that way for so much of his life.  Yet, just as Leia was essential in him learning to set that mask aside in the first place, so it was his reunion with her that finally reawakened the 'good guy' within him (and again, we can see how Rey and Finn helped him to this point, just as Rey would do something similar for Luke in the next movie).  It was Leia who was capable of reawakening, not only his love for his son, but also his hope in him.  Every time I watch that painful scene of Han's last moment, I am struck by how powerful and beautiful it is.  Every word spoken between father and son on that catwalk is so deliberate, even when it is layered in meaning.  Some suggest that Han was naive and foolish.  I think he loved his son, as well as his wife.  He knew well what could happen.  He knew the risk he was taking, and he had to be asking himself if this could possibly be real, if Ben could actually mean what he was saying.  And Ben did mean every word.  That conflict within him, which Han held onto as hope, was indeed tearing him apart.  And he did need his father's help to do what he, in his sickness, felt he had to do.  I have no doubt that the thought that this was what Ben meant was on his mind.  But, he could not let it stop him from trying.  And so great was his love for both Ben and Leia that he was willing to give his life for even the tiniest shred of hope.  He became such a profound image of the Merciful Heart of the God, the Father in that moment.  The Father's love for His degenerate children is so great that He is willing to give His life.  He poured His life into the womb of Mary and His Son walked among us, seeking out His Beloved... knowing what could happen... that we would kill Him.  Still, He lays down His life to save us.  The Resurrection, of course, makes all the difference.  And thus, the Father is able to save us, even though our rejection claimed His Son's life... still, He lives.

       We will see whether Han's sacrifice ever bears fruit, in the form of his son being reclaimed, but I think it already is bearing fruit in how Rey devotes herself to the same 'impossible' task.  I have no doubt that one of the factors which led her to come to that point was the witness of Han's love, and the hope that he and Leia both held onto.  As she watched his tragic death, she saw that love was Han's greatest strength... and his greatest weakness.  When she first met him, they shared a humorous moment as they all disagreed on whether he was better identified as 'the hero of the rebellion' or 'the smuggler.'  Yet, in his boldest and purest act of true heroism, she saw the good guy, who often hides behind the scoundrel.

Other Legendary Outlaws:                                

       Yet, Han isn't the only example in the theaters this summer of a scoundrel who leaves us wondering if they will become a true hero...

     First, let's consider that Guardian of the Galaxy who infamously ruined everything in Avengers: Infinity War: Peter Quill (Star-Lord).  When the Guardians first show up in Infinity War, we glimpse among them that struggle between the "good guy" and the "scoundrel" as they debate why they are answering the distress call.  Quill seems to be torn between the middle of the noble intentions of Gamora and the shameless self-serving of Rocket.  Over the course of the three movies we've had to get to know him, we can recognize that conflict within him between these two inclinations, as he is like Han in his apparent dual nature as both the good guy and the scoundrel.  One key difference between his character and Solo's is that, while Han's parentage remains comfortably unexplored, Quill has always been plagued by his daddy/mommy issues.  His father wound is a deep cut, which was probed extensively in the second volume of the Guardians saga.  It was when we heard his father confess the truth about the cause of his mother's death, that we first saw him go off the chain.  In hindsight, this seems to have been a kind of foreshadowing of his extreme (and awful) emotional reaction against Thanos in Infinity War at the news of Gamora's death.  Not unlike the unpleasant moments we see of our beloved Star Wars characters, watching Quill at times like this may not be uncharacteristic, but it's very painful to watch.  His basic obstacle in growing from antihero to hero seems to be that pesky tendency he has to allow his emotions to trump his reason.     

     Next, we might consider Debbie Ocean (Ocean's 8).  In Debbie, we see one who chose to emulate the scoundrel within her brother (and apparently the rest of their family - interesting, to see whether they do more with that in the future), rather than celebrating the good guy within.  It was clear how the makers of this summer's Ocean's spin-off recognized some of the key plot points in the 2001 Ocean's Eleven and sought to parallel them in a new way.  Yet, the motivations behind Debbie's heist are far less laudable than those of Danny's.  Both are discovered by their partner, midway through, to have a deeper motive, a "job within a job," which is personal and related to their ex.  Danny's secret mission was love.  Debbie's is revenge.  How many times do we have to come back to this point?  REVENGE IS NOT A VIRTUE.  It is not something to be celebrated.  Yet, in a world where we cannot distinguish between the hero and the antihero (or simply prefer the latter), we fall back on this time and time again.  Debbie takes us to a whole new level.  We no longer prefer the antihero, but simply celebrate villains.  Danny might have qualified as an antihero, due to the fact of his complex motivations, which were really quite selfless, even though his means toward this end was clearly corrupt.  Consider his goal.  Of course, he wanted her back, but he was willing to accept not being with her.  He could not accept the idea of her being with someone who had no respect for her.  That is laudable.  And his plan was so beautifully crafted that it leaves us with the impression that the whole heist was designed to create that moment, when Tess would finally see the truth.  In short, everything he did (even though it wasn't good) was for Tess.  Debbie's revenge "job within a job" felt a bit like an after-thought or killing two birds with one stone.  But, more importantly, it wasn't something that showed any goodness within her.  It doesn't make us like her any more.  It might make us sympathize with her or even pity her because she was mistreated (although, I'd be hesitant to call her being incarcerated for crimes of which she is guilty unjust, even if I can sympathize with the sense of being betrayed in itself).  Still, if she was a victim, she is certainly not an innocent one.  One of the most interesting elements was the notion that Danny would not have wanted this life for her.  Throughout his own movies, there was a sense of him never quite being able to shake this life (and even a sense of struggle over whether he wants to, as he clearly suffers from some kind of addiction to the thrill of it all).  Now, we have a new dimension to that struggle, as we see that his persistence in his scoundrel behavior (even if there was a good guy within) led his little sister down the same path.  And she appears to be in a much worse place than he was, addicted to the same thrill, apparently finding her only value and worth in it: "It's what I'm good at".  It left me sad to see no visible signs of goodness or redemption in her by the end of the movie.  We can hope that it is in there somewhere, shackled by her addiction.  When the movie closes with her telling her brother (presumably in the grave) "you would have loved it," I know what she means.  Still, I'm not so sure. 

     Finally, we have the sequel to the movie which was designed to introduce the heist element into the Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ant-Man and the Wasp.  Admittedly, this is a slightly different example, since Scott Lang is a bit too much of a love-able goofball for us to easily think of him as a true antihero.  Nonetheless, he is in a similar predicament as the Ocean siblings, of being unable to breakout of the life of crime, especially in the first movie. And the events of Captain America: Civil War left him, once again, on the outside of the law.  The sequel follows up on this aspect somewhat by showing him running from the law and finishing out his sentence after his involvement with the "Secret Avengers" in Germany.  It also adds a new element while showing how those events (and a little bit just the "Accords" themselves, which were the catalyst for the conflict in Civil War) cause Hank Pym and Hope Van Dyne to be on the run from the law as well, and resenting Scott for it, as well.  However, the bulk of the story and its thematic elements seem to focus less on the "Scott the Outlaw" element from the first movie and more on the "Scott who just wants to be a Good Father" element.  Further, the parallel between the father-daughter relationships of Scott and Cassie and that of Hank and Hope also remains very much in the forefront.  However, as the sequel focuses even more on finding Hope's mother, a new parallel joins that original parallel in the foreground, namely that between the undying devotion between Hank and Janet and the budding relationship between Scott and Hope.  In fact, the title seems pretty clearly to hold an intentional ambiguity, as to which "Ant-Man and the Wasp" duo is being referred to.  Truly, the heart of this movie is the intertwining of these interrelated relationships.  So, again, we see that the key factor in the tension between the "good guy" and the "scoundrel" is the relationships in one's life.

      The choice to live one's life, not for oneself, but to give oneself away in love to others and to be life-giving, is what motivates the scoundrel to give way to the good guy within.  With Han, Danny, and Scott, we see the best of them when we see them looking to the ones they love.  We see Debbie's failure to demonstrate any sign of goodness in the writer's apparent determination not to have the female counterpart to Danny Ocean turn out to be doing it "all for her man."  This choice seems to be consistent with the rather warped mentality sadly found in some modern expressions of feminism (go here for more on the feminine genius).  Sometimes our attempt to show our strength (viewed far too often as simply independence) ends ups simply being a show of selfishness.  For Danny, his loving devotion to the woman he loved was his saving grace.  There was no shame in that love was truly his strength.  Let's hope that we find more room in our hearts to allow love to help us to overcome our selfishness.  The wildcard in the group seems to be that "legendary outlaw", Peter Quill.  His loving devotion to those he loves seems to be what causes him to lose his head.  On one hand, it is true that, not unlike the other examples, the coming together of Quill with Gamora and the rest of the Guardians (in the first movie) enabled him to begin to become the best version of himself.  So, love can truly be seen to be his strength, as well.  However, we see that his loving devotion is not tempered in the slightest by reason or self-control.  And this famously RUINS. EVERYTHING.  As we saw in Infinity War.  Perhaps it is true... Virtue actually does enable love to grow toward full maturity.  All of the virtues are ordered toward authentic love.  Authentic and virtuous love, completed by the assistance of grace, is what enables the good guy to win out over the scoundrel.  May it be so for each and every one of us.     

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