Full disclosure, I love Return of the Jedi. It is and has always been my favourite Star Wars film of all time, despite its many flaws. I would be hard-pressed to call it the best Star Wars film, but for me, the highs of it surpass anything else in the saga, and there are many highs.
With this in mind, this post was originally going to examine a few key elements of the film, both good and bad, and examine them through my perspective – a defence of the entire film, as it were. Though I might return to this fuller look eventually (I might as well, since I wrote most of it before changing tack), it became apparent that for me, The Reason ROTJ works so well is deserving of discussion in its own right, and is what I’m primarily interested in in the film.
It is something I have previously touched on a little bit, in discussing the function of the eucatastrophe as it relates to another of my favourite films, Tangled. In that post, I proposed that there is a specific moment when the eucatastrophe of ROTJ occurs, and that in that moment, Luke has gained victory. But the eucatastrophe of ROTJ is not a single moment, either. The entire film builds to it in a multitude of ways, and the actual eucastrophe itself is layered and brilliant. So, I think it is well worth spending a little time breaking it down here.
This Reason, this brilliant eucatastrophe, is also (ironically) part of the reason why I think ROTJ is a flawed film. See, a large part of what we love in the first two Star Wars films is the ensemble cast, this loveable group of misfits and unlikely protagonists. Chewbacca, the strong and scary (though deeply loving) monster. The haplessly worried C-3PO and the coolly competent R2-D2. Han, the greedy and reckless scoundrel with a heart of gold. Leia, the confident and assured ice princess. A menagerie of supporting heroes like Lando, Obi-Wan and Yoda. And of course, Luke.
In the first two films, all of those characters have their own individual motivations, development, and arcs. However, ROTJ is a very different beast. Upon rewatching it for this post, and having worked through it during my drafts, I think it is fair to say that ROTJ is wholly and entirely about Luke, and concerned with him. Sure, Han and Leia are in it, but what do they actually do? In what way do they develop or change? Leia kills Jabba and finds out that she’s committed the mildest possible incest, but she doesn’t change or grow in any way. Han is rescued, and finally accepts leadership within the Rebellion (it’s notable how inconsequential the film makes this feel, when Han has spent the previous two films actively trying to get away from the Rebellion). In both cases, there is definitely room to allow them a more fully-realised arc, but that room is not given in ROTJ.
I think that the simplest explanation is that, beloved though these characters are, Lucas simply wasn’t interested in them at this point. Indeed, in no way is this demonstrated more clearly than during the final climactic battle, which is structured in extremely poor fashion. While the opposing fleets clash high in the sky above (and in my favourite space battle of all time), Han and Leia have to open a door, to get into a fairly uncompelling bunker, which they were just in 10 minutes ago before they were captured and left outside the door. From an in-universe perspective, it all holds together fine, but for the sake of achieving drama, it doesn’t work at all. Forget the Ewoks, they’re silly but fine – the real reason the battle on the moon of Endor doesn’t work is because the stakes feel incredibly low, there’s little of the see-sawing tension and carefully constructed obstacles that filmmakers like Lucas and Spielberg are so known for.
But I digress – the point is, it feels evident to me that, for ROTJ at least, the ensemble cast was no longer a blessing to Lucas, but a drain, and his solution was to largely ignore them as characters, and include them at all simply for the sake of servicing action, and to the story’s detriment. Rather, Lucas was laser-focused on a single character in ROTJ, and to me at least, that character’s story is so beautifully told, and so well-constructed, that it redeems the entire film for me and elevates it to its lofty position in my own personal rankings. To me, the story of Luke Skywalker in ROTJ is some of the best storytelling I have ever seen, and is 90% of why I love this film so much.
So today, I’m going to break down my reading of Luke’s story in ROTJ, and why it works so well for me. And sure, it might not seem like there’s much to read into here – farmboy finally becomes space wizard-samurai, farmboy redeems murderous dad with the power of family and/or love – but trust me, there’s a lot going on here, including stuff that I’d never consciously noticed before I started writing this post, and I think it’s a lot of this peripheral subtext and meaning that makes Luke’s story in ROTJ such a satisfying and well-executed conclusion.
I think that the film itself is fully aware that this is Luke’s story. His name is the very first thing to appear in the opening crawl – yet, strangely, he is also the last of our main characters to actually enter the film, taking a full 22 minutes of runtime before he enters Jabba’s palace, and building our anticipation along the way.
And oh, what an entrance it is. A lone, black-clad figure framed against blinding light, entering darkness, immeasurably far and removed from the camera. Within a minute, he has demonstrated the signature move of his father (choking guards with a mere glance and a gesture) and his first master (effortlessly clouding the mind of Bib Fortuna with well-chosen words). This is, we realise, not the same Luke as we’ve come to know – this Luke has the powers and the bearing of a Jedi.
Indeed, the opening act is highly successful in showing us a Jedi Knight in his prime. It’s interesting to note that, at this point in the 1980s, audiences (and, I would argue, Lucas to an extent) still had precious little idea what a “Jedi” actually was. Of the three Jedi we have met this far, all of them spoke often of the Force, of finding balance and power within it, and all of them demonstrated strange and mystical abilities that they could access through this connection. Two of them, though, were hardly active, choosing isolation over action, while Anakin maintains the power of a Jedi, but is explicitly no longer one – in short, we know that a Jedi is skilled, powerful, and to be admired, that a Jedi is noble and brave, and that a Jedi is willing to resort to battle only as an act of preservation, and not for its own sake. But until this opening sequence, we have never seen all of that put into practice by an actual, active Jedi.
And in personifying a Jedi, Luke is instantly demonstrating character growth and change on his own part too. In ESB, Luke is fundamentally the same character as he was in the first film – he could jump a bit higher, and pull things into his hand, but both his personality and his power stayed overall similar. The Luke that strides through the gaping gate of Jabba’s palace is not a new Luke, he possesses the same traits as always – he’s still a brash hero, charging in to save his friends, with feckless confidence and an easy-going charm.
No, this isn’t a new Luke – this is an ennobled Luke. Now, Luke has both the power and the wisdom to justify his cocky confidence, as he demonstrates repeatedly. When Luke tells Jabba to give up Han or face the consequences, there is not a hint of bluster or threat, just an assuredness – which is then justified as Luke warns Jabba for the final time, and then proceeds to methodically and calmly dismantle his entire entourage with ease. We have been told that Luke is a Jedi, by the opening title and by Jabba himself, and now we are shown the truth of it. Luke, at long last, is a Jedi….or at least appears to be. But more on that later.
Lucas’ penchant for reusing and echoing imagery and themes is now well known to the point of mockery, but there’s one specific moment I want to highlight on Jabba’s barge that I haven’t really seen discussed before – partly because it’s a fairly understated moment, namely, when Luke swings from barge to skiff with Leia.
This, obviously, recalls the far more dramatic and heroic moment in A New Hope. The reason why it’s far less dramatic in ROTJ, though, is because this time Luke is fully in control of the situation. In ANH, him and the just-rescued Leia are fleeing from superior numbers, and are forced against their wills to bridge the chasm with a risky manoeuvre. Here, Luke is again outnumbered and on enemy ground, but this time he is in charge of the battle. Any guards left are surely fleeing or hiding, and Luke isn’t forced to try and swing away, he chooses it. The equivalent scene in ANH is fraught with tension and release, here, it’s the last sentence in Luke’s overwhelming triumph.
In his victory over Jabba, Luke proves to the audience that he is capable of being a Jedi, and we may believe him to be one – but as the next act tells us, he knows he is not a Jedi. He has the skill and the power and the knowledge, but he lacks one final quality….and intriguingly we, like Luke himself, are still unsure what he must do to earn that honour. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, following Tatooine, Luke returns to Dagobah, where (in case we somehow missed it in the opening scenes), Yoda tells us what we have already seen. Luke doesn’t need to be taught anything further. But Yoda, and then Obi-Wan, both make sure Luke understands that he has not become a Jedi….yet. There is one final task, something he must achieve, before he earns that title.
Obi-Wan: You must face Darth Vader again.
Luke: I can’t kill my own father.
Obi-Wan: Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope.
Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi
I find it interesting that neither Yoda nor Obi-Wan ever speak of killing Vader, both of them use words like “face” or “confront”, which Luke (in that moment) interprets to mean “kill”. Given Obi-Wan’s pessimistic outlook on Anakin’s redemption, that reading is fair, but I think there’s more going on here than an old man manipulating his protege into committing murder.
Rather, I think that Obi-Wan and Yoda both know that Luke must confront external darkness in order to challenge his own internal weaknesses. If, in the course of this confrontation, Luke must kill Vader, than so be it – but the killing is not the goal, even if it turns out to be a necessary consequence. Under this reading, Kenobi’s statement, “Then the Emperor has already won” has a double meaning. If Luke cannot face Vader and must flee from him, then the Emperor has won….but if Luke confronts Vader with the intent of killing him, with the express understanding that Vader must die, then the Emperor will also be victorious. At this point in the film, Obi-Wan is telling Luke and the audience that he must be receptive to a third option – even if, along with Luke, we do not realise it.
Luke, of course, doesn’t seem to understand this at first – and, I would contend, it is possible that he doesn’t understand it until it is almost too late. That being said, while Luke misinterprets the instruction of his two masters, I would contend that Yoda and Obi-Wan in turn underestimate Luke at this point, and that in the following passage of time, Luke realises what he actually has to do. Confronting Vader is both too hard and too easy for him. Too hard, because he recognises Anakin, because he feels kin with his father. Too easy, because while it is certainly Vader’s own failure that led to his corruption, he was not the corrupter. If Luke is to triumph where his father failed, he must undergo the same trial that his father did. Luke does not have to confront his father. He has to confront the Emperor.
This is a course of action which was not recommended or suggested by either of his teachers – indeed, Obi-Wan specifically warns Luke to beware the Emperor’s power. Luke, though, knows better. His mission is to do better than his father ever did or could – but in order to accomplish this, it isn’t important to confront his father. It is, however, crucial to confront the source of his father’s destruction. So, Luke surrenders himself to Vader, hoping against hope that he will be able to save Anakin Skywalker.
And so, we travel to the Death Star and to the climactic confrontation. What’s fantastic here is how clearly drawn each of our characters’ goals are, and how these goals play off each other. Luke, as I’ve said, has gone to become a Jedi, by proving himself in the ultimate test of his own worth. I don’t think Luke is fully aware of what this will entail, and he knows that – though he is willing to die in order to achieve it. The Emperor stands in opposition to this, seeking to corrupt and destroy Luke as he corrupted and destroyed Anakin many years ago. Further, the Emperor doesn’t care who lives or dies in order to achieve this – he is willing to be struck down by Luke if that act should drive the would-be Jedi over the brink, and he is willing to see Luke or Vader be killed in order to ensure the other’s further descent into villainy.
And in the middle, we have Vader. Vader, who believes absolutely in the Emperor’s supremacy and ability, who has been conditioned to follow and obey his master because he believes his master is right. Vader isn’t here to kill Luke, but to further his master’s wishes – if killing Luke should prove necessary, so be it, but that isn’t his goal, or even his wish. Of all the three, Vader is ironically the only one who actually wants to prevent anyone from dying, due to his split allegiances, his (to his mind) rational trust in the Emperor, and his emotional kinship with his son.
Something really cool about the meeting between these three is that, from the galaxy’s perspective, it doesn’t matter what happens in the throne room – the moment Lando destroys the space station, no amount of spooky Force magic will save Palpatine or Darth Vader, or Luke for that matter. Hence, from this perspective, the events on the Death Star itself are meaningless….but we, as the audience, know better, even if we don’t realise it.
This battle isn’t about killing the Emperor, it’s about stopping the Emperor. It’s about Luke confronting himself, proving that he has the strength, and is worthy, to rebuild the legacy of the mystical Jedi. And there is no better way to do that then to confront the darkness in his father, a darkness Luke has sensed…..but also a spark of light. Luke recognises Vader because he knows himself – he knows he could be driven down that same dark path. It would be enough for Luke to reject that for himself – but by rejecting it, he’ll have truly conquered.
Mind, most of this isn’t present in the dialogue, it isn’t laid out for the audience, and this for the better. We are informed by what we already know of these characters and by their actions, leading us to a much deeper (even subconscious) understanding that Luke has gone to confront evil…..and for large stretches of it, evil is winning.
This certainty of the triumph of darkness is initially displayed through the Emperor’s dialogue, as he explains his trap to Luke and lays out how complete, how absolute his power is. The Emperor debates Luke, breaks him down bit by bit, shows the futility of his actions. In the Emperor’s version of events, every action Luke has taken has been a mistake, an error of judgement, bent towards his own inevitable failure. The Rebellion will fail, Luke’s friends will die. The implication becomes clear, the Emperor will win and live, will go on to commit further atrocities. Luke’s only choice is whether to allow this or to strike down Palpatine in an act of violence and dishonour – the Emperor will then at least die, though even in death he will be victorious, have achieved his goal.
And Luke believes him, we see that he hasn’t yet learnt Yoda and Obi-Wan’s final lesson. Luke still, on some level, thinks that fighting may be the only option, and the Emperor is able to tap into that and stoke it. So Luke seizes his lightsaber, the weapon that marks him a Jedi, that Vader had previously admired, and the last duel begins.
Before we continue to examine the characters further, it is well worth stating that this is by far my favourite lightsaber battle in all of Star Wars. Yes, the psychological drama of it is brilliant, but from a purely technical perspective I think it is also the best duel we have ever seen. Sure, it’s fun to watch the choreographed spectacles of the more recent films, but here more than in any other Star Wars film, I actually feel like I’m watching two swordsmen, wielding highly dangerous weapons with skill and strategy. Nearly every thrust and stroke feels dangerous, every parry necessary, every step calculated to bring advantage. It’s frankly gorgeous swordsmanship and is too often overshadowed by the weightlessly flashy bouts later seen.
On a dramatic level, the fight is also great. We see Luke continue to search for a way to earn victory through peace, and unable to do so. We see the Emperor enjoying himself, everything is proceeding as he has foreseen. And we see Vader pressing his son on the Emperor’s behalf and on his own. Join us, Vader pleads, because he does not want to kill his son, and because he knows the Emperor’s triumph is inevitable.
And when this pleading fails to find purchase, Vader changes course. Just as Luke sees much of Vader in himself, Vader recognises Anakin in Luke, and so he threatens not Luke, but those he loves.
And boy does Luke respond.
Suddenly, the tempo of the fight changes. Every blow Luke makes is not just a killing strike, but an intimidating strike, designed to force Vader to respond in kind or to be destroyed. It is unpredictable, violent, angry. And Vader is forced into retreat, unable or unwilling to match his son. Finally, Luke is facing his father – but there is no hint of triumph about this moment. The music alone tells us as much – it swells and rises to match the intensity of the moment, but not into a fanfare or march, but into dissonant and somber strings.
It is unlike anything we have heard across the entire trilogy, and this mirrors what we are seeing on the screen – because we have never seen Luke like this. We have seen him grieving, fearful, desperate, and grim, but always with a ray of hope and a core of compassion. Here, ironically, even as Luke’s martial victory looks certain, that hope is extinguished, that compassion that is so key to his character is gone. Luke is going to kill Darth Vader, sure. But, just as Anakin Skywalker died all those years ago, so too are we watching Luke’s death now.
And so in this final moment, Luke surrenders to his fear and anger, and he overcomes Vader, and is himself overcome. And in that moment, standing victorious over his vanquished and (literally) disarmed enemy and recognising the commonality between himself and his cyborg father, I think Luke also finally understands the final piece of the puzzle. Obi-Wan never wanted him to kill Vader….again, should it prove necessary, I am sure he wouldn’t disapprove! But Luke has now confronted his father, confronted the Emperor. And in a single moment of clarity, Luke understands. The moment he stepped into the throne room, he could have been a Jedi, truly and fully – he just had to accept it.
And so, Luke casts away his weapon, the accessory that identifies him as a Jedi. He does not need a lightsaber to be a Jedi. He does not have to kill or beat anyone to be a Jedi. All he has to do is to reject Palpatine, to refuse to engage with him at all. And in that moment, Luke becomes a Jedi. Luke knows he is a Jedi and accepts it. And in that moment, Luke achieves his goal – his story ends with those words. In that moment, Luke has defeated the Emperor, defeated Darth Vader, and defeated his own shortcomings. This is the true climax and victory of ROTJ. Never mind what comes next, this is the moment where Luke triumphs.
This brings us to the film’s denouement and the “false” climax of the Emperor attacking Luke, and being in turn killed by his former apprentice. On a surface level reading, this is fine, but doesn’t actually seem all that profound – Vader simply and suddenly deciding to be a good guy may even feel a little cheap. And yet, to me, it doesn’t feel cheap at all….nor to many other viewers of the film. If it were the actual climax, the actual goal of the film, then I think it would be a failed pinnacle, but it isn’t. Likewise, if Vader decided in that crucial moment simply to aid Luke because he pitied him, because he could not bear his suffering, that would be hollow.
Mind, Vader does make that decision because he pities his son….but there’s more going on here too. One, readily legible layer of subtext is that in his triumph, Luke did something unthinkable to Vader. He spared him. Even as he was tempted by the very anger and fear that Vader himself had inspired in Luke, the latter elected to show him mercy, and Vader is now indebted to his son.
However, there is an even deeper layer of meaning here. In claiming his victory and becoming a Jedi, Luke has won – and as any gamer can tell you, if there is a winner than someone else has lost. Earlier in the film, Vader says one of the most famous quotes of the film to Luke, a quote that shows the regret and emotion that later redeem him – but the less-discussed, second half of the line is here incredibly important too.
It is too late for me, son. The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your master now.
RotJ
Throughout the film, the Emperor has assured both Skywalkers of the inevitability that he will bend Luke to his will. Vader has accepted this, and every action he takes throughout the film shows this very clearly. Luke, though, has fought it, feared it, raged against it, and now, in his victory, he has conquered. He has proven the Emperor to be, as he might say, gravely mistaken. The Emperor has lost, completely and utterly. Sure, he can kill Luke with evil Force magic, but he cannot beat Luke. Palpatine himself set out his goal clearly, to turn Luke to the dark side – he has lost, and been proven vulnerable, weak, fallible.
And if the Emperor has lost, what does that mean for Darth Vader? Vader, who has had total confidence in his boss for years. Vader, who has followed the Emperor no matter what, because of the latter’s promises and threats. Vader, who believed in his Master.
Vader realises, in the very same moment that Luke becomes a Jedi, that he was wrong. That decades of confidence and belief were misguided. That the Emperor is not absolute, is not inevitable, is not infallible. And that sudden, piercing realisation is what turns Vader. Like I said, he is surely also motivated by emotion and by feeling in that pivotal moment, but he is also motivated by reason. Cold, hard fact, that has been beautifully illustrated to us throughout the story, even as we were unaware of it. And it all means that every event in Luke’s story has been leading up to that single moment, when he casts away his Jedi weapon and becomes a Jedi – and that the film’s conclusion is not some happy accident, but a clear and demonstrable consequence of that moment.
It is also why I think Anakin’s redemption holds weight and is earned. No, it does not wash away or nullify the decades of blood and violence on Vader’s hands. But it is also not as simple as Vader simply “feeling bad” and deciding to be a good guy. In choosing to believe that Luke is right, Anakin also accepts that he has been mistaken, that he has made a terrible, awful mistake in siding with the Emperor. Yes, it is a deeply emotional moment when he casts the Emperor to his death, but that emotion is earned by reason. It is too late for Vader to fix his mistakes, but it is not too late for him to regret them, nor is he destined to continue down his twisted path. It is perhaps too little, but it is assuredly not too late, and that is why his redemption is earned.
It’s really kind of extraordinary, that the crux of ROTJ and its climatic victory should be so understated, so carefully hidden, even as every element of the story leads to and away from it. It is also extraordinary that it resonates as throughly as it does, even if we don’t understand why. Sadly, the very real problems with other elements of ROTJ often cause people to overlook what it does well. We finally see a real Jedi, in his prime, saving the day. We finally – literally and figuratively – get a glimpse behind the mask of Darth Vader, as we see the terrible power he is beholden to, and understand his tragedy and weakness. And we see Luke and his inevitable confrontation with darkness – and if we know what we are looking for, we can see every stage of his struggle, his confusion and his eventual internal victory – a victory that saves the galaxy from the Emperor’s tyranny, that saves himself, and that saves his father, by sacrificing the symbol of his power and saying four magical words.
Yes, ROTJ is flawed. But it also achieves exactly what it intends to achieve, and that is so profound, so ambitious, and so excellently realised that I don’t care about the low points. It may not be the best Star Wars film, but its best moments are the best that Star Wars has ever achieved, and for that reason, it is my favourite. And I have no intention of convincing you that you should like it any more or less than you do – but next time you watch it, be mindful of Luke’s journey through the film, and I hope that will help you enjoy and appreciate it on a new level.
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