Was The Rise of Skywalker written by Michael Scott?

Andrew Harmon
//
October 7, 2020

Andrew Harmon
//
October 7, 2020

Question: What do The Rise of Skywalker and Michael Scott have in common? Well… we’ll get to that in just a second. First, let’s talk about Star Wars.

Last December, The Rise of Skywalker swept into theaters around the world. It promised to be the conclusion of not just one, but three epic Star Wars trilogies. It would serve as the capstone on a journey that spanned three generations and enraptured the hearts of millions of fans. Upon its release, audiences thronged to the theaters to see it. They watched with rapt anticipation, and then rose together to receive it with a thunderous… “Meh.”

That’s not to say that The Rise of Skywalker was a terrible movie. Few people downright hated the film. In comparison, it didn’t receive the onslaught of rage tweets that a very vocal segment of the fan base had previously heaped upon its predecessor, The Last Jedi. But The Rise of Skywalker also didn’t seem to thrill many fans or critics in the way that The Force Awakens, or indeed for some The Last Jedi, had. The Rise of Skywalker emerged as the Jay Leno of Star Wars films. The film made a lot of safe choices and really just wanted everyone to like it. Ultimately, though, the final film in the Skywalker Saga ended up being less than memorable.

There are a lot of reasons for this, not the least of them being the tragic and untimely death of Carrie Fischer. And some great film critics have already written about many of them at length. So as I recently rewatched the final Skywalker film, instead of being critical, I tried to discern why this objectively exciting space romp just didn’t excite me.

Surprisingly, the answer to this brought me back to one of the greatest episodes of The Office. It brought me all the way back to a regional manager of a failing paper company, standing in an acting class with a make-believe gun. So back to the top then, shall we?

What do The Rise of Skywalker and Michael Scott have in common? Well… they both could stand to learn a fair bit about the art of improv.

The "Yes, And" Rule

The very first rule that any aspiring actor or comedian learns in Improv 101 is the “Yes, And” rule. Basically, when two people are improvising (that is, telling a story together without any road map) they maintain order by adhering to two points.

The Rule

First—the Yes. When someone makes a statement, asserting something about the story, the other person must accept that it is true. They cannot say, “No, that’s wrong.” They must implicitly say, “Yes.” A Yes keeps the story from back tracking and ensures that the details about the story that are spoken into existence have to matter. Just like in real life, things get interesting (and complicated) because there are no do-overs.

But just saying Yes isn’t enough. So this is where the And comes in. After accepting the change in the world, the other players react in whatever way is interesting and truthful for them. This reaction, in turn, becomes its own action that then causes the story to progress. “Yes, that happened. And I will do this about it” Each action receives an appropriate reaction. Cause and effect. Everything matters. Nothing is ignored.

It is because of this rule that the poor folks in Scranton are so powerless every time Michael walks into their improv scene with an imaginary gun. They must submit to the fact that he has a gun even though it grinds every scene to an aggravating halt.

But, if you’ll allow me a brief aside, this really isn’t so much an indicator of Michael’s skills as it is an indictment of just how lousy the Scranton Improv community is. After all, they have a world of options available to them for their “And”, instead of simply putting their hands up.

“Yes, Michael has a gun. And, I have the world’s last bullet. The bidding starts at $800.”

Or better yet…

“Yes, Michael has a gun… And we’re at a funeral. Why would you bring a gun to your own mother’s funeral, Michael?!”

I’m just saying – the fake people in 2005 Scranton, Pennsylvania really need to work on their improv game.

Collaborative Storytelling

But what does this have to do with Star Wars? Well, this rule exists in improv because, at its heart, improv is simply collaborative storytelling. And the Star Wars sequel trilogy is nothing if not an act of collaborative storytelling—or at least an attempted one.

In an interview with IGN, Mark Hamill said…

“Remember, George had an overall arc [in the original trilogy]… If he didn’t have all the details, he had sort of an overall feel for where the three were going. But this one’s more like a relay race. You run and hand the torch off to the next guy, he picks it up and goes. Rian didn’t write what happens in 9 – he was going to hand it off to, originally, Colin Trevorrow and now J.J.”

Each storyteller was handed a story to say Yes to, and then had the power to respond with their own And.

Saying "No" to Episode VIII

But in a very real way, JJ Abrams and company failed to say Yes to The Last Jedi. Entire storylines that ended that film are ignored and new ones are set up in their place.

(The most famous of these choices is the reveal/reversal of Rey’s parentage. It’s a choice with such resounding ramifications, that I’m going to discuss it in depth in next week’s post.)

By answering The Last Jedi’s contributions to the story with several “No, Ands,” the finale of the franchise, while exciting, feels disconnected and a little weightless.

Destruction of the Resistance

Take for instance, the size of the Resistance when we meet them in Rise.

At the end of The Last Jedi, the Resistance has been decimated. So much so that its entire remaining membership fits into the Millennium Falcon. They have no ships, no bases, but most importantly only a handful of people. In the history of Star Wars, we have never seen the Resistance (or the Rebel Alliance) this diminished.

And this isn’t an accident or a throw-away story point, either. Poe’s entire character arc revolves around how he grows as a leader when faced with the continuous annihilation of the rebellion. We watch as his choices directly lead to significant casualties and what increasingly seems like the inevitable end of The Resistance. By the end of the movie, the amount of fighters left is so small it seems insignificant. And the conclusion to Poe’s arc is not when he blows up some planet killing weapon. Rather, it occurs when he orders a retreat to save these few lives.

Everyone on screen knows they are incapable of defeating the First Order in their current state. In fact, Rey’s final line of the movie is “How do we rebuild the rebellion from this?” And this is the question that you walk out of the theater pondering.

But when we arrive at the Resistance base at the top of Episode IX, it is teaming with people. Sure, it’s still a scrappy bunch and they are outnumbered by the First Order. But their numbers are nearly identical to what we’ve come to expect in previous films. This isn’t Action, Reaction. There is no Cause and Effect here. When Episode VIII says, “The resistance is at its lowest point ever.” Episode XI says, “No, they’re pretty much fine… But the Emperor is back!” This is a “No, And”—not a “Yes, And.”

For context, this decision to all but ignore the destruction of the Resistance would be similar to opening Return of the Jedi with a scene of Han and Luke blasting TIE fighters together in a space battle. “Ummm… No, No,” you’d say. “Han was in carbonite at the end of last movie. Luke failed to save him in time. That was a big deal. You can’t just skip that. I need to see how they saved him. That needs to matter.”

Supreme Leader Ren

And this isn’t the only “No” that The Rise of Skywalker hands us. At the end of The Last Jedi, Kylo Ren not only murders his master but declares himself Supreme Leader. This was new ground for Star Wars. For the first time, the big-bad wasn’t subservient to an old man in a chair.

But aside from Kylo calling himself Supreme Leader, The Rise of Skywalker shows little change in the First Order or how Kylo operates within it. Re-introducing the emperor effectively puts Kylo under the control of the OG “Old Man in the Chair,” leaving his big murder action without any meaningful reaction. There is even a new stodgy British guy in charge of the army, to play Tarkin to Kylo’s Vader.

Rose loves Finn, but Finn loves Rey... maybe?

This is not to say that a story can’t change directions. Great stories surprise us with new developments all the time. But new developments feel empty if they come by ignoring what has already been introduced to us as true. Finn and Rose’s relationship is a great example of this.

Some have pointed out that The Force Awakens sets up Rey as the character that Finn would have a romantic connection with in the trilogy. But then she is quickly jettisoned from his storyline in The Last Jedi and replaced by Rose. Is this a case of one movie failing to “Yes, And” its predecessor?

Finn's Journey

I’d argue no.

Because, when we meet Finn in The Last Jedi, the first words from his mouth after waking up in sick bay are ”Where’s Rey?” She is the only thing on his mind. He is actually in the midst of deserting the Resistance entirely in order to save Rey when he meets Rose. She enters his journey as a result of his dedication to Rey and from there begins to define his journey towards becoming Rebel Scum. This is a plot developing organically.

Yes, Finn is dedicated to Rey… And Rose crosses his path as he tries to reconnect with her.

Rose's Journey

Unfortunately, Rose’s new-sprung love for Finn at the end of Episode VIII, is not treated with nearly the same integrity.

Unlike Finn, who merely makes puppy-dog eyes at Rey for the entirety of Episode VII, Rose literally declares her love for Finn and then kisses him at the end of Episode VIII. It’s an unignorable moment. But as you might expect, Episode IX gives it a resounding “No, And.” And not just because Finn and Rose don’t end up together—this is entirely unnecessary for a proper “Yes, And.” The reason this storyline feels so stiff-armed by The Rise of Skywalker is because it presents Rose as not having these feelings at all.

Again, when compared to the deftly-handled story of the original trilogy, this choice in Episode IX would be akin to Han and Leia never addressing their feelings in Return of the Jedi after their iconic, “I love You. I know” in Empire. While the story doesn’t hypothetically need them to get together, it would be bananas to simply not address their relationship in the next movie. But The Rise of Skywalker seems fine with bananas. By dealing Rose’s character a solid No, followed by the And of giving Finn yet another female counterpart, the film further disconnects itself from the thread of its own story.

Such a move is shoddy storytelling at best and propping up a tradition of racially caustic storylines at worst.

Consequences

While the “Yes, And” rule may have been coined by the improv world, its defining principle is the bedrock of good storytelling and is worth remembering even within a self-contained narrative.

Engaging Consequences

Simply adhering to the rule doesn’t automatically make a story coherent. But ignoring it almost always leaves the audience adrift. Like playing army with a bratty 8 year-old who insists they were not shot by your imaginary gun, stories without tangible cause and effect are tiresome and ultimately disengaging. As an audience, we need to know that actions will have consequences in order to be invested in them.

Stories about time travel are fraught with narrative danger, because the very premise gives characters the means to “No, And” any action they don’t like. Likewise, TV shows or movie franchises that consistently dabble in killing off characters only to resurrect them pull the carpet out from under their own feet by removing the most drastic consequence of all—death.

Legacy

When looking at Star Wars: Episode IX, I simply wish that it had taken a few more notes from the likes of Middleditch and Swartz, and said Yes to its predecessor before adding its own unique And. I wish they’d have said Yes to Rose and to Supreme Leader Kylo.

But most of all, I wish they’d said Yes to the myth-making promise of Luke’s ultimate showdown with the First Order. The sacrifice that created a new legend that spread to the far reaches of the galaxy, inspiring every adorable child with a broom. I wish they’d said Yes to the idea that after years of shame and regret, the final actions of our most beloved Jedi had truly ignited a revolution of hope to serve as his redemption.

If they had just remembered to say, “Yes” before adding their And, we may have truly been able to see the rise of Skywalker.