'The Force Awakens' 10 Years Later: An Entertaining Film That Can't Outshine its Tragic Legacy
Take me back to Jakku, please
It’s basically impossible to consider The Force Awakens on its own merits 10 years later.1
People tend to be split on the follow-up installments of the Sequel trilogy. Either they love The Last Jedi and despise The Rise of Skywalker, or they hate TLJ and tolerate The Return of Palpatine.2 Most agree the trilogy was a failed endeavor.3
I prefer the word tragedy.
There are worse things than disappointing Star Wars. I mean, just look around. You can probably name a dozen things without thinking too hard. Bad movies are literally the least of our problems. Spare emotional RAM is a luxury.
It’s easy to get hyperbolic about this stuff because it actually doesn’t matter. Also the internet rewards spicy takes and we’re all fighting over the same few minutes of attention. But I legitimately consider the Sequel trilogy a tragedy. Lower case ‘t’ but still.
This is the flip side of investing too much of yourself in stories. Similar to Horcruxes, it hurts when something comes along and mishandles your precious.4 It’s important to maintain perspective though, especially for me, who once unironically wrote about myself:
I was born 9 months after Star Wars premiered in 1977, which naturally suggests my mom’s womb quickened on its own after she saw the film. I get it—these movies make me feel things too. I’m not saying I’m a Chosen One, only that I wasn’t ready to be born into a world without Star Wars.
There’s no avoiding it though. The last two-thirds of the trilogy overshadows the exciting, propulsive beginning and takes the spark out of its lightsaber.5 Consider this single fact—a final digression before we get to the meat, promise—The Force Awakens was written by the guy who wrote Toy Story 3 and the guy who wrote The Empire Strikes Back; The Rise of Skywalker was written by the guy who wrote Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice.6 Put nicely, there was a general degradation in quality.
Watching The Force Awakens—henceforth TFA because I’m not being paid by the word here—in 2026 is an exercise in the kind of duality that plagues clairvoyants and the type of people who triumphantly declare “I knew it” when things go wrong: the weight of foreknowledge. You’re trying to enjoy the film for what it is—fast, fun—but the viewing is hampered by knowing that ultimately, none of this matters. Promises remain unfulfilled—or unfulfilling. The potential is forever squandered.
Star Wars has had two periods of great anticipation, both of which coincided with a new trilogy after a long cinematic drought.
Nothing can ever top the hype for The Phantom Menace. It literally can’t be replicated. We were a different people then, and the world a slower place. I watched the first trailer using dial-up at my girlfriend’s house because we didn’t have internet at mine. It took roughly an hour to download—streaming hadn’t yet been invented, which makes this story feel even older—and had a display resolution of 108p.7 It’s a good thing a lot of that trailer involves Tatooine because the footage was hella grainy.
TFA didn’t enter into a content vacuum like Episode I but, having witnessed firsthand the marketing firepower for both, the build-up came surprisingly close. Of all the things the Prequels introduced, the most surprising was the realization that Star Wars could actually be bad. More than once, even! That sounds incredibly shortsighted and obvious, but previous to 1999, Star Wars had only ever been awesome. Even when it was watered down by Ewoks and cocaine, still great. The possibility that it could be anything but never crossed my mind. That’s probably true for most of us.
When I think about TFA, mostly what I remember is that intermediary period between when the film was announced and when it released. The internet was fully formed by this time, which meant I could drink at any geeky watering hole that’d have me. The excitement was palpable. I spent most of the time leading up to Episode I in a kind of fugue state. I couldn’t accept that it was actually happening. TFA was different. And not just because Han Solo was returning.
Teaser trailers are only reliable for vibes, and sometimes not even then. The best part of the Prequels was 100% the trailers. (And also the Duel of the Fates music video; you know a song’s a banger when it makes Episode I seem epic.) Episode II’s teaser is a masterclass in atmosphere that the movie itself completely lacked.
Trailers lie. True story.
TFA’s teaser is just that—a tease. A taste. Quick cuts backed by a John Williams soundtrack is generally enough to send blood rushing to certain regions of my body. What the teaser promised was something not really found in the Prequels—urgency. Movement. Tension. Those are things you can’t fake with a trailer. Either it’s already in the shot or it’s not.
When I was a kid, adults sometimes talked about remembering where they were when they heard JFK was assassinated. The level of specificity was surprising, like a polaroid they carried around in their head. It fascinated me. And then it happened to me.
I have two such where-I-was memories: 9/11, and the day the first real trailer for TFA released. Let’s move past the obvious questions about how my brain allocates its limited resources.
(In case you’re curious—I was at work both times. The second memory is obviously a lot happier. My friend and I sequestered ourselves in a conference room to watch the trailer several times on the digital projector. I then went back to my desk to watch it a few more times. I then downloaded the trailer as an mp3 to listen to. In case my current employer is reading this, I’d like to clarify this was at a previous employer. I’d obviously never do such a thing now.)
The first full trailer for TFA blew my mind out the back of my skull. It confirmed what the teasers had suggested—a return to the spirit of the originals. Star Wars was back, baby!
One of my favorite things about TFA has nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do where the fanbase was heading into it, a moment in time immortalized through John Boyega’s reaction to the first trailer. Boyega was—and hopefully still is—a huge Star Wars fan. He brought a toy to the set for Harrison Ford to autograph. He is one of us, which makes his reaction to seeing himself in a Star Wars so wholesome. I’d be losing my mind too.
TFA released in theaters on December 18. I saw it 4 times before the month was out.
Taken independently of everything that comes later, TFA is the very definition of a good time hang. It's ridiculously fun. So much so that I'm willing to overlook the blatant A New Hope copy/paste. They were trying to remind people why we all loved Star Wars by remaking Star Wars. There are far worse sins.
I wept during the first screening. I’ve gotten choked up at the same spot every subsequent viewing.8 Whatever deficiencies TFA has, it isn't lacking for heart. And ultimately, that's why I love these movies. They make me feel things on an almost spiritual level. I know I'm being manipulated by lights and sounds and a heavy serving of John Williams, but something about that specific alchemy has always moved me. Some people love race cars or fishing. I cry about space wizards. Know thyself.
The best part of TFA is the sense that we’re getting something fresh, despite the too-familiar trappings deployed to ensnare nostalgia. Finn and Rey are so youthfully frenetic, especially in the first act—which coincidentally, or not, is the least Star Warsy part of TFA—that you can't help but be charmed. The dialogue crackles. There’s not a poop gag in sight. It's everything that was missing from the Prequels.
For a time, being better than the Prequels was everything. But it also wasn't enough.
The Sequel trilogy’s original sin can be found in its first installment. Why are there Stormtroopers running around again, and what’s with this Great Value brand Empire? Wasn’t there an entire trilogy already about beating these guys? Not to mention the Luke Skywalker of it all—how could he let this happen? Are we to believe this giant emaciated Palpatine cosplayer is actually stronger than Luke Freaking Skywalker? C’mon, man.
Great questions. And while I think there’s something very real about the idea that evil can never truly be defeated, that heroes stumble and fall, and that old foes—hello, Nazism—have a way of coming back, TFA did the Sequel trilogy no favors by resurrecting those old tokens without any thought to the why’s and how’s, and instead kicking that can down the road. By abdicating this duty in favor of half-formed mysteries, TFA saddled the last 2/3 of the trilogy with responsibilities it never should’ve had.
When I revisit TFA, it’s with these thoughts in the back of my mind, mixed with anguish that the good of it—Finn, Rey, Kylo, and, of course, Han—is really great. It’s not hard to lose myself in the movie. I’m still vulnerable to bombastic scores and lightsabers. But I can never truly escape knowing that this fantastic promise ultimately fizzles out. The best way to enjoy TFA now is by tapping into that John Boyega trailer energy, and clinging to it like a talisman, and pretending that all the possibilities that seemed to exist still exist.
Finn spends the beginning of TFA trying to escape Jakku and getting increasingly annoyed that nobody else is interested in leaving. In his defense, the planet doesn’t have much going for it. Its only industry involves trading scavenged equipment for Jell-o looking protein squares, an exchange subject to the whims of an alien who looks like he eats most of the Jell-o and is surly about having to trade any away.
The film wants us to share in Finn’s resolve to leave because obviously Star Wars only starts on the desert planet—it doesn’t end there. The adventure can’t truly begin until they experience hyperspace. That’s Star Wars 101. But the best part of TFA is everything involving Jakku. The scavenging and the neat food physics and the burgeoning Finn/Rey relationship, yes. But also because everything was still in front of us.
Take me back to Jakku.
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Technically the 10th anniversary was in December, but health issues and the holidays delayed this writing. Also I had a hard time finding my way into this piece. It’s not for lack of things to say—get me started talking about Star Wars and good luck getting me to stop—but more that it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to say this time.
To make my preferences plain: I like TLJ and consider The Rise of Skywalker the worst Star Wars put on film. Even worse than the legendarily bad Holiday Special.
Speaking in sweeping generalities is always dangerous, especially since I know at least one person who genuinely loves all Star Wars. Hi, Matthew!
Horcrux is just a fancy name for a phylactery, a physical vessel that a lich ties its soul to in order to achieve immortality. It’s a D&D thing, so I went with the more recognizable Horcrux. Just know that I didn’t like it.
I was tempted to say ‘take the kyber crystal out of its lightsaber’ but don’t think most of you would get the reference. I use my mom as the barometer for this kind of thing. If I think she’d get the reference, it stays. For everything else, there’s footnotes to explain my would-be brilliance.
If you can call that writing; Batman v. Superman is the movie that memorably resolves its titular battle by the superheroes comparing their mother’s names. Riveting drama.
It was probably 480p.
No, it’s not the part where Han Solo reunites with the Millennium Falcon or Leia (nice moments but not overly moving). It’s not even when Han Solo is murdered in cold blood. (I was shocked and angry, but not surprised; Harrison Ford has famously wanted to kill Han since 1983.) It doesn’t involve Han Solo at all.
It’s the part where Kylo and Rey are playing Force tug of war over the old Skywalker lightsaber. Rey catches it, the Force theme kicks in. Tears. My reaction is more due to John Williams having the skeleton key to my soul than anything on screen.
You and I had very different reactions. I remember watching it in theaters and it was indeed return to the spirit of the originals… and the cinematography of the originals… and the plot of the originals…
Han Solo’s a smuggler again, the Empire is back, there’s another Death Star, and we’re back on a sand planet with a kid and her droids. This is just lazy, and set the tone for the entire series, that they were going to rely on audience pattern-matching between things they liked before as opposed to writing an actually interesting plot.
The hype for The Phantom Menace (at least the trailer) was real. At one time, movies cost as little as $5. People were paying $5 to walk into a screening of Meet Joe Black just to watch the trailer for TPM, then walking out. Theaters started posting signs saying no refunds.
The inherent problem with TFA and ROS was the big idea: blow up yet another Death Star. Really wish Abrams had a modicum of a different idea.