"Retcon," that dirty word

SPOILERS

I never wrote that piece defending Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker I was planning to write. Maybe this will be a way of sort of backing into it.

I've gone back and forth on the latest/last Star Wars movie, as you recall from this piece, but I've ultimately decided that I am going to love this movie warts and all. I enjoy life better loving Star Wars. Sure, it was not exactly the movie it could have been, probably should have been. But as a lukewarm (pun intended) middle ground trying to satisfy all of us, it satisfies me plenty well.

So my hackles are definitely up when it comes to people trashing it. I don't engage them, because that's their business and it's certainly a valid reaction to Rise of Skywalker to be disappointed by it. Languish in your own misery if that makes you happy.

But the prevalence of the word "retcon" in the discussion is one of those things that makes me want to put up my dukes.

I don't think the meaning of "retcon" is inherently negative. I became aware of it too recently to say for sure. But it sure is being used like a slur in discussions of Star Wars. And no one seemed that interested in making it a household word when some of the same behavior J.J. Abrams displayed in this movie was displayed by Rian Johnson in The Last Jedi.

But first, let's define this word for those of you who may not be familiar with it, though I don't know how that could be at this point. It's both a noun and a verb, but I'll go with the verb definition since it seems to be used that way slightly more prevalently.

"To revise (an aspect of a fictional work) retrospectively, typically by introducing a new piece of information that imposes a different meaning on previously described events."

It's probably easier to think of it as short for "retroactive continuity," which summarizes it perfectly in only two words.

In a sense, you could think of "retconning" (I'll ditch the parenthesis after this instance) as always a bad thing, as it is either correcting a previous omission or second guessing one's instincts, likely for impure reasons like box office or the ongoing viability of a franchise. But that doesn't mean it should be totally risible as a narrative stratagem. The whole of Terminator 2: Judgment Day is essentially a retcon of the original Terminator, and I don't want to live in a world without T2.

But what bothers me most about the term is the way Rise of Skywalker haters are mis-using it. In the discussions I have been witness to, both online and in person, and perhaps especially in the podcasting world, the definition of retcon has gotten expanded to mean "changed a thing in a way I didn't like."

Let's take the reassembling of Kylo Ren's helmet. We always knew he liked that helmet; since it held no medical necessity for him, he wore it simply as a fashion statement, to intimidate the people he wanted to intimidate. And I venture to say that worked. He only destroyed it in a temper tantrum after Snoke called it ridiculous.

That was when he still thought he wanted to impress Snoke. But then he killed Snoke and became supreme leader himself. Like a petty political leader elected from the opposite party -- not naming any names -- he wanted to reverse every decision he didn't like under the former leader, as soon as possible. Repairing the helmet, then, was a very believable symbolic gesture for a guy who never wanted to destroy his helmet in the first place.

"Yeah, but he probably threw that broken helmet away!" the haters scream. "RET-con!"

Did he? This is the guy who has kept the charred remains of Darth Vader's helmet for something like a quarter of a century. He worships it like you would worship at an altar. Kylo Ren is a hoarder. He totally has that shattered helmet. And even if he didn't, he made it once, so why couldn't he make it again? I'm sure someone took a picture of him while he was wearing it.

It's not that the reassembling of the helmet is an instance of retroactive continuity. You can actually fairly easily follow the chronology if you choose to. It's that they felt Abrams was essentially saying "Fuck you" to Rian Johnson by reversing a decision Johnson had made in his previous film. That may be petty, but it's not a retcon.

And I've decided I don't think it's petty either, or if it is, it's no more petty than Johnson saying "Fuck you" to Abrams by suggesting that the helmet he loved so much is stupid. Abrams may have ended it, but Johnson started it.

Okay, so let's move on to an example that is closer to the actual definition of "retcon."

"I hate how they just retconned the end of Return of the Jedi by bringing back the Emperor."

Sure, we all thought Palpatine was dead after Darth Vader threw him down a bottomless shaft. But Palpatine is hardly the only Star Wars character to survive falling down such an abyss. In fact, you might suggest that this is the least effective way to kill someone who is force sensitive. Luke survived it, albeit on a smaller scale, and as of Solo: A Star Wars Story we now know for sure that Darth Maul also survived it, something that has been explored more fully in the (now defunct) extended universe.

So the most powerful Sith lord of all time shouldn't have survived it? Even if he didn't, George Lucas himself laid the groundwork for the "unnatural abilities" necessary to resurrect the dead in Revenge of the Sith. If anything, we've known for 14 years that it was possible to use Sith powers to prevent someone from dying or to bring them back. That Palpatine himself would use that power, or at least be the beneficiary of it, is perhaps the best case of continuity we have with those prequels.

So then there were the people who were annoyed with the way Abrams retconned things within the movie itself. I have to admit that bugged me a little too, but the biggest instance of that is actually not a retcon, something you will know if you saw the movie at least twice, like I did.

The moment where Chewbacca is supposedly killed in a prison transport leaving the surface of the planet Pasaana is, understandably, played for all its potential emotional stakes. Did we really just see this franchise's answer to the beloved family dog just blow up in a fiery wreck?

Of course we didn't, most of us knew even when it happened, if not for optimistic reasons (they would never do that to Chewbacca) then for cynical reasons (J.J. Abrams would never have the guts to do that to Chewbacca). But when we see him alive later on Ren's ship, most of us, not only the haters, thought "What? They just decided to retcon a second prison transport ship?"

Except they didn't.

When you first see Chewbacca being arrested and loaded onto the prison transport, there is, quite clearly, a second transport parked next to it. We didn't notice it the first time because we didn't think it would be important information to glean from the scene. But that just makes the trick better. It's playing with our emotions, sure, but it's not bullshit. That second transport was there, and it only makes sense that it would be the second transport, the one not carrying the dangerous prisoner who has been a part of every major siege against the Empire, the First Order and the Sith over the past 30 years, that would stay behind on the planet to collect up any last stragglers, while the first transport would be carrying that Wookiee up to the ship quick smart.

Sure, there are probably some instances of retconning in The Rise of Skywalker that I would agree with and have legitimate beefs with. I choose not to think about them because I choose to love The Rise of Skywalker, which I think makes me a more enjoyable person to hang out with.

But the champions of the word retcon are basically using it as a catch-all term to describe the following frustration: "I liked the changes Rian Johnson made in Star Wars, and J.J. Abrams took all that away from me."

That's fine. That's a legitimate reaction. But different filmmakers make movies in different ways, and Disney clearly decided they wanted Abrams, not Johnson, to bring the series home for them. They thought Abrams was more likely to deliver what they considered to be a fitting conclusion to the series, while Johnson would be more likely to blow up the Millennium Falcon or have Poe and Finn kiss. (So, you know, Disney is not right about everything.)

The point is, Abrams wanted to conclude the trilogy the way he started it, and if anything, he's showing continuity with his own instincts. He's being consistent, while Johnson was the one throwing a wrench into the works. Whether that was a needed wrench or not is a thing people can and will debate forever.

Look, both of them fail at the basic rules of improv. Improvisational comedy rules state that when a fellow improvising comedian presents you with a scenario, you don't reject it. You say, "Yes, and." You build on this random piece of information the other person has presented you. You can and should ultimately take it in a new direction after paying due respect to the idea that was bequeathed you, but you don't just say "No, that's a dumb idea, I refuse to do it."

J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson would be no good at improv. But they are good filmmakers, and each believes passionately in his vision for a franchise that we have all loved since we were little kids.

Me, I'm just glad I got to see a little bit of what each had to offer.

The hyper-stylization of Joseph Gordon-Levitt

What have they done to Joseph Gordon-Levitt??

Whatever it is, I like it.

The first time I saw the trailer for Rian Johnson's Looper -- which was not the other night, though that second or third viewing inspired me to write this post -- I thought there seemed something a little off about the young actor's appearance. His features seemed sharper, his eyes wider. There was an airbrushed quality to him.

I thought it might just be that the actor worked out for this role, or that the man who has always looked sort of like a little kid (perhaps because we met him as a little kid on Third Rock from the Sun) was finally maturing. But the changes still looked a bit too extreme. He looked like a cartoon character or something.

After this last viewing, I decided I had to investigate.

It turns out that during the Looper shoot, the actor had to submit to three hours a day in a makeup chair in order to achieve the appearance you see above. Much of that had to do with grafting on a larger chin.

So what was wrong with Gordon-Levitt the way he was, babyface notwithstanding?

Here's the cool part: They are trying to make him look like a younger version of Bruce Willis. Not just because they wanted him to have a "Bruce Willis aura" to him -- but because he actually plays a younger version of Bruce Willis.

And don't tell me that you aren't getting a Bruce Willis vibe from those eyes. I don't know how they did it, but to me, it seems clear as day.

I find all the trouble they went to to be especially interesting, because that's usually the last thing anyone cares about in a movie: whether the actor they got to play the younger version of a character (or the older version) really looks like the actor they got to play the older version (or the younger version). Actors are usually hired because they are right for the part, and they bear at least a passing resemblance to the actor who has already been cast. Like, they need to have the same hair color, though that itself is not an insurmountable obstacle. Being the same race certainly helps.

Here though, Johnson and his crew decided it would add to our appreciation of the film if JGL and Willis really looked like the same person. I'm sure there's something about this intriguing story that will make us appreciate all the more that they made that decision.

We'll find out on September 28th.

Looper -- about a present-day hitman who is hired to kill the future incarnation of himself -- is the kind of big idea movie that would ordinarily shoot straight to the top of my "most anticipated" list. It hasn't, which is primarily because in the maybe two years since I first heard about it, I have known it was from the creative team (writer-director and star) behind Brick.

I've mellowed on my dislike of Brick after a second viewing, but I still feel like it contains altogether too much posing and posturing for my tastes, and it turned me against JGL for a number of years. I refused to see Johnson's follow-up, The Brothers Bloom, just because of his involvement.

But this is a new and improved Gordon-Levitt -- literally -- and I have since heard Johnson appear as a guest host on my favorite film podcast, Filmspotting. So I'm ready to open my arms to him again as well.

There will be no teenagers tripping over their noir jargon, so at least there's that.