SW-TLJ: My problem with Holdo

I think I’ve spent a good chunk of the last three or four months trying to wrap my mind around why it is that the character of Vice Admiral Holdo so bothers me. No one element really stands out, and really, individually any of my complaints quickly fall before a basic argument of ‘that’s realistic’, or ‘that was the point of the character’.  Yet, the more I think about it, the more I find myself bothered by her and her actions, and I am left with the opinion that she even brings down the film some measure.

The Numbers

So, lets start with the numbers. If you go to the transcript of the movie and search for “AMILYN HOLDO”, you see 16 hits. In total, this is a character with a total of sixteen lines in a film that is creeping up on three hours. A screen time breakdown at IMDB.com shows she had a total screen time of 5 minutes and 15 seconds. So again, this is supporting character with limited dramatic impact on the story (and to be fair, so was admiral Acbar, but he was seen as a wildly popular figure, so I’m not knocking anyone on the numbers alone).

How do I go about this other than to say “I don’t like her”? I mean, I don’t, but how do I objectively quantify that for the purposes of conversation.

Really, the more I think about it, I think it is the contrast in story telling methods between the original trilogy and the newest installments.

The conflict was from without, not just from within.

From a stylistic standpoint, this is the first thing that strikes me. In the original trilogy, we don’t have open descent within the ranks. We have talk, we have opinions, we have banter, but not once do we see the major, or even the supporting players in the rebellion coming to blows (verbally or physically) over a situation. At the battle of Yavin, we see very tense rebellion pilots sitting through a very detailed briefing. Sure, its not all roses and candies, (“that’s impossible, even for a computer!”, Wedge Antillies) but its clear they all agree what has to be done. At the battle of Hoth, with an imperial mechanized force baring down on them, we see Leia herself directing the pilots as they make their escape. And at Endore, we see the rebellion command staff shift gears and go on a desperate offensive only a few seconds after realizing they had flow right into the teeth of an imperial trap. When Luke was lost on Hoth, there was no debate about what had to be done when it was time to close the doors, and when the rebel commandos were captured on the ground on endure, Hand and Leia  (who’s whole relationship across two movies was characterized by squabbling) instantly worked together to regain the upper hand.

Also there wasn’t really that much descent on the imperial side. Yes, Vader kept a short leash on his subordinates, but even then we didn’t see open conflict between officers. Probably the closest thing we see to a fight within the ranks is in TESB when the naval staff are arguing as to if the image of the Hoth base is even worth investigating. And lets be fair, that conversation lasted only a few seconds and didn’t really shape the plot much at all.

But what do we have here in TLJ?

First of all, the real indicator that we were in a different age with different people is when Poe and Leia argue over the original dreadnought run. That right there was a whole different dynamic than what we saw three decades ago.

And then, we come back and revisit that sticking point when Poe first meets Vice Admiral Holdo.  She’s dismissive, and condescending to him. That carries over later on when Poe leads an armed mutiny against her. These are the types of things that were never have even been hinted at in the original trilogy, and here we see it as a centerpiece of the action.

Now, speaking strictly objectively, we also see this starting off the last act of Rogue One, when the rebellion more or less ignored the orders of the leadership and set out on the mission that would make the whole plot of ANH possible. To be clear, I loved Rogue one, and have said several times that “its not a Star Wars story. Its a war story set in the Star Wars universe,” and as a war movie fan, that works for me on so many different levels.

But when we come back to Holdo, she serves as an abrupt, confrontational figure within the ‘good guys’ themselves.  She’s dismissive, condescending, and generally antithetical to the type of ‘good vs evil’ story frameworkset down by the original trilogy.

We don’t know the plan.

One thing I can say about the original trilogy is that it showed you its hand early on in the game. Really, the only times where there was a plan and we didn’t know it, it was with Han, and I believe that was deliberately done to show his rebellious attitude about situations. But with the main story, we are there in the room with the pilots for the briefing on the original Death Star, we hear Leia spell out the escape plan during the defence of Hoth, and we have a detailed layout of the strategy being used over and on Endore. Even the prequels go to great lengths to give us an idea of the plans going forward. Its only when Palpatine makes his final move to consolidate power in ROTS are we really caught without a clearly defined path forward, and even then, we soon have a direction when Yoda explains that he has to go into hiding after the latest events.

TLJ, however, elects to build tension for its middle two acts (depending on how you break the movie down) by not telling us the plan. And more to the point, the only thing the movie does tell us is that Vice Admiral Holdo is the one with the plan., and she’s ‘playing her cards close to her chest’, to put it politely.

Objectively, this thematic style could, and has worked in various movies, games and books. I won’t knock it because it is valid and it has its positives.

But for me, at least, it doesn’t work here, because is so separates me, the viewer, from the narrative methods of the Lucas written stories, and positions a presumptively friendly character between us and the solution.

Holdo’s attitude stinks

When it comes to character chemistry in the original trilogy, Lucas has a very clear idea of who should be smarting off to who, and really, the sharpest words were exchanged between people who were already shooting at each other usually. The closest thing we have open insults between good guys are when Leah calls Han a ‘scruffy looking nerf herder”, and even that comes off with comedic results thanks to Han’s “I don’t care’ personality. People talk favorably about the ‘good guys’ and poorly about the ‘bad guys’. The dialogue in these films is clean, fun, fast, and in line with the story where insults are saved for people we would probably be shooting at anyway.

The writing in TLJ, however, shows us our hero (Poe Dameron) butting heads with the Vice Admiral while Holdo insults, demeans, and alienates Poe and us.

Really, two things about her choice of engagements bothered me here.

She more or less blows him off during their initial meeting, at first reminding him of his recent demotion, and then telling him that he and people like him are the last thing the resistance needs just then.  Sure, she’s within her rights to do this, but the hour when the resistance has its back to the wall is not the time anyone should go out of they way to antagonize one of their best starfighter pilots, and by extension many of the starfighter pilots of the fleet.

Secondly, when Holdo does elect to respond Poe’s demand for answers, she does so by weakly invoking Leia.

Holdo: “When I served under Leia, she would say, hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it....”

If you look at the words here, the way she phrased the question, she’s accusing Poe Dameron of giving up, of not having hope. What she needs is for people to trust he, but for whatever reason you want to infer, she doesn’t ask for that, or demand it, or even address it.

Rather than engage Poe with an admission that she needs to say something to him (and the fleet), she turned the whole situation around and treats everyone like itsd their fault that they don’t believe in her, even though we are not given any real reason to believe she’s actually capable of pulling them out of this.

While Poe’s shoot-from-the-hip, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants personality may well not be what the fleet needs just then, neither is Admiral Holdo’s condescending, 'you are the problem here, not me" attitude.

The Vice Admiral’s actual military conduct is lacking, a lot.

You don’t have to be a career military officer to see that there are some major logic gaps in Holdo’s conduct in the film.

First of all, why is she event talking to Poe in the first place?

Now, if you’re not following me on this, hear me out, because its not small.

The first thing Holdo does in her conversation is remind Poe that he was demoted. Now, the movie doesn’t say all of what ranks are between “Commander” and “Captain”, but I think it’s safe to say it was more than ‘a few’ steps.

So here is why she shouldn’t even be talking to him.

If he actually was bucked down a full rank, that should have meant he lost his job. As in, the starfighter wing, or group, or squadron he was in charge of, that would have been taken over by his executive officer and he would have taken the next slot, if there even was one. Holdo should have looked at him and told him to go through his commanding officer.

This isn’t a small deal. In the middle of a crisis is NOT the time for junior officers to jump the chain of command.

But what does she lose by engaging him, especially since she’s blowing him off or talking down to him?

Well, the answer there is, a lot. The fact is that time is a commodity in the military, and when a superior officer is willing to give you their time, that in itself says something. By continuing to talk to Poe, she’s in effect recognizing that he’s still the most important fighter pilot in the fleet, and completely undercutting the impact of the demotion. In fact, that is probably part of why Poe was able to win over the mutineers he did.

On top of that, never once does she put her foot down and invoke her rank. There is a marked difference between saying “I am in charge” and “you don’t deserve an answer from me”. Both are categorically true, especially in a military setting. But one is about legal power vested in a superior officer, the other is about putting the onus of compliance on the crew, a crew who are largely already following her, blindly, and with death nipping at her heals.

Princess Amidala took the reigns of control and lead from the front as she fought to retake the palace in TPM, and Leia knew how to establish command of a situation with her own innate force of personality. Love or hate either of them, there was no question who was in charge, and if in doubt you could just ask them.

Holdo, however never even says that she actually has a plan, Poe tells us when he finds out for himself and confronts her about it.

In short, she's not a leader, and she clearly doesn’t comport herself like a senior officer, either.

She's Juvenile

The last moments of Holdo's fleeting screen time show her being cornered by Poe and a number of other resistance officers who drawn down on her, forcibly taking command of the ship in what they believe is a better shot at saving their lives. The mutiny is put down when Leia emerges from the hospital and stuns Poe.

In the next scene we see two orderlies carrying an unconscious Poe Dameron onto a shuttle. As they do, a smiling Vice Admiral Holdo comments. "That one's a troublemaker. I like him."

I found "I like him" to drip with the type of two-faced politicking of schoolyard politics of old. I was left wondering 'where was this respect or admiration when you were egging him on or talking down to him?" To me, the whole scene smacked of 'lets smooth things over with the boss" more than any honest admiration.

And if there was honest admiration, where the hell did it come from?

Wrapping up

In the end, my problems with Holdo as a person are admittedly ones of personal opinion. But that being said, I don't like her. I don't like her attitude, the way she handles the situation, or the way she engaged with Poe Dameron (and believe me, I'm hardly any sort of fan of Poe either). I'm sure she would have thrived in a more professional military setting where loyalty if cooked into the equation and people are as expendable and obedient as you need them to be. But in an insurgent confederation of different ships, races, skill sets and people, iron-fisted, "I said so, that's why" edicts from the top echelon of the movement hearken to the very attitudes the resistance is trying to do away with.

Was there likely a Holdo in the background of rebel or resistance battles before this? I'm almost certain there was. But here, the writer chose to point Holdo at us and make her part of the story, breaking away from convention and narrative benchmarks established decades ago.

Creatively, it is the director's decision, and I don't claim any right or power to change it.

But as a viewer, I can say I noticed, and that I didn't care for her part of the story at all. 

SW-TLJ: The StarFortress scene

I walked out of the theater after watching all of The Force Awakens drastically underwhelmed with what I had just seen. The byproduct of that depressing cinematographic encounter was that I promised myself I was never going to sink another dime (let alone the full cost of a movie ticket) into another new Lucasfilms movie. Because of this, my watch of The Last Jedi was done on my phone, compliments of Netflix, with a set of earbuds in, and only occasional interruptions by my wife's cats (who were actually about as entertaining as the movie).

Its no secret that I had a lot of problems with the film (see comment's section), and that I didn't enjoy it. But, one thing about the film even on the list of things I didn't like, seemed out of place, and that was the the 'bombing run' scene on the dreadnought. When I first talked about it on facebook, I said:

Okay, I get that George Lucas loved WWII war movies, and I get that his dog fights were largely scripted off of those films. That being said, I felt like the bombers here were *too* 1940s, and the staging was *too* "this isn't in space". The writers here should seriously have rethought that scene. I mean, I get where the scene is going, and I understand, but I feel like we could have accomplished the same thing without completely taking away the fact we *are* in space for this battle, which is what the bomb run scene does if you think about it.

That was over six months ago now, and still that one scene bothers me, not only in that I felt like it didn't work, but that I have a huge problem wrapping my mind around why it didn't work for me.

In the mean time, TLJ had been taken apart and put back together a hundred times over as fans, commentators, academics, and reporters argue the thematic, dramatic, social, political, cinematographic and writing merits of both this film on its own merits, and those same concepts as part of the movie continuity. Its not secret I actually enjoy listen to some of the more critical reviews, and I admit it feels good to know that I'm not the only one who feels like these movies let him down.

But still, why did this scene sit so badly with me?

I think it took me most of these last six months to fully process this scene and understand why I don't like it, and in the end, the reasons themselves are about as complex as the movie should have been, but wasn't (but that's another story).

First, lets talk about the vehicle itself. The bomber (fleshed out as a MG-100 StarFortress SF-17 online) is shown as a lumbering, heavy craft built like a super heavy snub fighter rather than a star ship. It uses turreted guns to protect most, but not all angles of attack on the craft, and while I (as a Star Wars fan) can assume it had some measure of shields, none were shown or mentioned in the film. The two most striking characteristics of the vehicle while it was on screen was its slow speed, and its heavy payload.

The influences for this, as I mentioned originally, are clearly 1940s' heavy bombers. Even the name, "SF-17 Star Fortress" is an overt nod to the American B-17 Flying Fortress. Movies such as "12 O'clock High" and "The Memphis Bell" all clearly spell out the physics and challenges of an American high altitude bombing mission over a heavily defended, enemy occupied Europe.

The B-17 bristled with fifty caliber heavy machine guns, and later models had three electrically operated turrets, and up to six hand operated mounts across its length.

Historically, the favored anti-fighter tactical for American pilots, especially in the early parts of the war, was to mass together in tight "boxcar' formations, allowing ten, twenty, or even thirty machine guns to be brought to bare on a single incoming fighter. During the war German pilots were said to write back to their loved ones that flying into was like 'making love to a burning porcupine'.

The boxcar formation was also something else that was given a nod in the film with the single line "Bombers, keep that tight formation".

Honestly, this comparison doesn't diminish the scene at all for me. The reality of the first film is that the famous trench run itself is based on the British film the Dam Busters (1955), which itself is based on the British low-altitude bombing mission to destroy 4 damns in the Ruhr river valley. Lucas himself used, (and some would say ripped off) many of the script and camera elements of the film to help make the climactic assault on the Death Star the stuff of movie legends. Also, many of the camera angles used in the overall during star fighter combat in the original trilogy were reminiscent of previous movies depicting famous air battles like the Battle of Britain, and the 1940's air war over the Pacific. As a cinematographic convention, Lucas made it work with his narrative style and high production valuers.

The other bit of history that is reflected well here, even though I didn't like it, was how effective the boxcar tactics weren't in practice. American losses over German, both to flack, and enemy fighters were deviating throughout the early parts of the war.

The turning point in the air war was the US Army Air Force's decision to begin pushing for long range fighters that could  escort the bombers all the way to their targets.  P-38 Lightnings fitted with drop tanks were among the first fighters to deployed this way, and then the much heavier, but more durable P-47 Thunderbolt. The final stage in this was the deployment of the P-51 Mustang, which could famously follow American bomber formations for over twelve hundred miles, form London all the way to Berlin and back, engaging German fighters out, away from the bombers the whole way in.

Both of these reality inspired points are conveyed well in the movie's four minute long scene. After Poe Dameron's impromptu 'wild weasle' attack, the resistance star fighters cut into the First Order fighters, but even the escorts are overwhelmed and are able to mob the eight bombers with devastating effects. Some bobmers are lost to enemy fire, others suffer the other consequences of tight formation flying in combat.

And so, here we are, a desperate, last minute attack with slow moving, heavily armed bombers against a massive vessel armed with some of the most powerful cannons ever deployed. A fight for the very existence of the resistance itself, and against a determined and capable foe.

This should be the stuff of legends, a scene easily on par with the trench run, or at least a worthy successor to it.

What went wrong?

1. Timing. The trench run of the final film was the final act, and lasted just under fifteen minutes. This let the movie tell a very tight, but solid story, showing us the dynamics of the different craft involved, the pilots, the mission, and the enemy. We have dialogue, perspective, several different musical scores, and even critical changes in pacing and strategy.  None of that is present here, however. The whole scene last less than four minutes, and about half of that does not actually show the bomber crews. There is perhaps twenty lines of dialogue in the whole scene, and most of that is from the fighter pilots, or the main characters. We have no dynamics, no chemistry, and no real time for emotions other than the perhaps excitement or urgency. 
2. Pacing. The problem with the timing is that some of the scene work against the four minute length. From a story telling standpoint, while I know the scene has to happen fast, the physical pacing of the actual characters themselves clashes with the scene's breakneck pace. Crews flying into the teeth of a monster that is about to eat them whole are walking, not running, to and from their posts. A gunner quickly, but smoothly climbs out of her turret, while the cuts around the scene suggest she should be doing a mad scramble. We see dramatic pauses that feel too, too long in between seconds long clips of bombers being cut to ribbons. I get where the director was coming from, this is actually how a crew of professionals should act in a combat situation, but framing those actions, which are cold, methodical, and deliberate, in the middle of seconds long cuts of actions around them either undercuts the action, or makes the crew look too slow for their own good. If you're going to show the quiet professionals, you need to give the scene the space it needs to give their actions proper perspective. 
3. Strategy. As much as I tried, I truly did, not to overthink this scene, so much of it clashes with the very nature of the rebellions that preceded the resistance. The rebels built their tactics around small, fast, survivable fighters capable of pinpoint precise attacks on under defended enemy positions. Craft like the X-Wing, and the Y-Wing, which took on the Death Star, and later the B-Wing and A-Wing were all built around the common theme of nimble, accurate, and durable craft with one pilot and able to hit quickly and get out. In many respects, these craft, as a concept. served as the science fiction extension of a knight's horse, carrying the hero off into battle. But the very presence of bombers, let alone something that channels a B-17 Flying fortress, invokes the ideas of great nations clashing across continents, with massive military industrial complexes feeding the engine of war. A "bomber" is a strategic weapon, a tool to be used by a conventional military, not something that fits into the mindset or metric of a 'resistance'. And even going past the thematic issues here, the actual act of ordering a lumbering, heavy, slow craft into what they had to know would become a hornets nest of enemy fighters was foolish at best, and idiotic at worst. Its not that the attack wasn't called for, in fact I think it was, but that was exactly the type that the rebellion of old would have reflexively send in a swarm of star fighters to do. Yes, it worked, but only barely, and a pilot as skilled as Poe clearly is has to know that the life expediency of those craft is measured in seconds.
4. Value. What does this do to further the story? The fact of the matter is that it does a lot, but none of it is 'good' from the heroes' perspective. The order to send in the bombers was cited by Leia as insubordination on the part of Poe, resulting in his demotion and creating a conflict between him and Leia, and later him and General Holdo. Never mind that we never see Leia try and order the bombers back directly, or the fact that those same bomber crews, and the star fighters that escorted them in sided with Poe and not Leia. Its also important to note that the attack on the dreadnought's turrets, and the order to send the bombers in amounts to three quarters of Poe Dameron's character development for the first half of the movie, the remainder of his time before the final act is an ongoing head butting competition between himself and Holdo, and I have to say that the writing there does not carry the gravitas needed to do justice to the depicted losses of the opening battle. 

So, in the end, we have a four minute long blood bath that really only serves to set up internal conflict within the resistance, including watching one of their best pilots get ineffectively scapegoated for what really was a mass mutiny in military terms.

Yes, I know Rose's sister was onboard the last bomber, but really so what? Other than being her sister, what does the character do for the story, and what did Rose do in the narrative that made that loss significant. I liked the character of Rose a lot, actually, and I felt she added a good 'everyman' character to the story. Still, the loss of her sister was never given the emotional weight in Roses story that its screen time suggested it should get.

In the end, at least for me, Star Wars was about good verses evil, with clean cut, uncomplicated narratives and compelling action sequences with strong characters. The bomber scene, for me, failed on all of these points, quickly becoming too complicated for its own good,  to short to be effective, and to vague in its relivance to interest the Star Wars fan in me. 

May the Force Be with you.