The themes of Lady in the Water - written and directed by M Night Shyamalan

Director M. Night Shyamalan's penchant for weaving enigmatic narratives is evident in "Lady in the Water," a 2006 film that ventures into the supernatural while exploring profound themes. Shyamalan, known for his unconventional storytelling, presents a tale where an ordinary apartment complex becomes a portal to a world of myth and legend.

Through the characters' interactions, the film deftly explores the power of belief, the beauty of interconnectedness, and the transformative nature of storytelling.

As Cleveland Heep, portrayed by a sincere Paul Giamatti, navigates this extraordinary world alongside a mysterious woman named Story (Bryce Dallas Howard - The Village, Jurrasic World), the audience is led on a thought-provoking journey that challenges conventional perceptions of heroism and invites them to embrace the unknown. 

Sigourney Weaver (Alien Ressurection) plays a crucial role too.

"Lady in the Water" received a mixed reception upon its release, with opinions ranging from admiration for its imaginative storytelling to criticism for its ambitious nature. M. Night Shyamalan's signature direction, combined with a compelling performance by Paul Giamatti, drew praise, but the film's intricate narrative and allegorical elements left some viewers divided.

 

Behind the scenes, Shyamalan brought together a creative team that included James Newton Howard for the evocative musical score, and a cast that embraced their roles with dedication, further enriching the film's themes.

Amid the film's reception, interesting trivia emerged, including Shyamalan's own cameo appearance as a writer who will supposedly change the world through his words—a playful nod to the film's theme of storytelling's transformative power. 

Despite its polarizing nature, "Lady in the Water" remains a cinematic testament to Shyamalan's dedication to unconventional storytelling, with its themes of interconnectedness and mysticism continuing to spark conversations and encourage audiences to embrace the extraordinary within the ordinary.

I freakin loved this film when I saw it in the theatre. 

The last ten minutes when the whole admittedly convoluted story came together was wonderful, especially after some clever misdirection. The acting was great but it's the themes of Lady in the Water I want to cover today!

The film's premise is centered around the idea that a hidden world of mythical creatures exists within the confines of a seemingly ordinary apartment complex. This theme becomes evident through the various creatures such as narfs, scrunt, and tartutic that emerge from a carefully crafted lore. Each creature represents a different facet of ancient folklore, highlighting the timelessness of myths and their power to resonate across generations.

Cleveland Heep, an introverted and emotionally scarred maintenance man, emerges as an unlikely hero as he takes on the role of protector for Story. Cleveland's transformation is a journey from self-doubt to self-discovery, echoing the hero's journey often seen in myths and legends. This theme emphasizes that heroism is not limited to physical strength but can arise from empathy, resilience, and a willingness to step beyond one's comfort zone.

The apartment complex serves as a microcosm of society, housing a diverse group of people from different backgrounds, occupations, and personalities. As the characters interact and forge unexpected connections, they collectively support Cleveland and Story's quest. An example is the "Guild" formed by the characters, each contributing their unique skills, echoing the idea that diverse individuals can come together to achieve remarkable outcomes.

Story's very existence underscores the theme of storytelling. Her role as a "Narf" revolves around her ability to inspire and evoke change through her stories. As characters become invested in her tale, they find their own lives transforming. For instance, a struggling writer rediscovers his passion for writing, underscoring how stories can ignite creativity and offer solace in difficult times.

At the heart of M. Night Shyamalan's "Lady in the Water" lies a profound exploration of the concept of belief—a theme that reverberates throughout the narrative, mirroring the skepticism and wonder often associated with encountering the supernatural. The skeptical attitudes of the apartment complex's residents toward the fantastical creatures that emerge underscore a universal truth: the human inclination to question the unfamiliar, to cast doubt upon the extraordinary.

Just as individuals in the real world grapple with skepticism when faced with the supernatural or the unknown, the characters in the film respond with doubt and reluctance when presented with creatures from myth and legend.

However, as the narrative unfolds, a gradual transformation occurs within the residents. This transformation reflects the malleability of belief and its ability to reshape reality. As the characters slowly open themselves to the possibility of the extraordinary, their perceptual boundaries expand, enriching both their lives and the narrative.

One of the most notable instances of this transformation is embodied in the character of Vick Ran, a cynical film critic played by Bob Balaban. Vick's initially dismissive and critical stance toward the unfolding events underscores the film's theme of skepticism.

In a turning point that encapsulates the theme of belief as a catalyst for change, Vick experiences a profound transformation. When he witnesses the ethereal presence of Story and the events she triggers, Vick's skepticism gives way to a change of heart. This moment is symbolic, as it illustrates the power of witnessing the miraculous firsthand. Vick's shift in perspective resonates with the notion that personal experiences can shatter skepticism and cultivate newfound understanding. 

Didn't end too well for him though eh? - Ed.

It underscores the idea that belief isn't merely a passive acceptance but an active force that can reshape both individual lives and the broader narrative of existence.

In this way, "Lady in the Water" serves as a metaphor for the transformative potential of belief in the real world. By portraying characters who evolve from skeptics to believers, the film encourages viewers to reflect on their own beliefs and preconceptions. It suggests that by opening themselves to the extraordinary, individuals can transcend limitations and embrace a world filled with wonder, interconnectedness, and the magic of the unknown.

The film invites viewers to explore the unfamiliar, both in terms of the supernatural and personal growth. Cleveland's initial reluctance to accept the existence of mythical creatures parallels his emotional hesitance to confront his own past. As he embraces the extraordinary, he also confronts his own fears and traumas, demonstrating how embracing the unknown can lead to personal transformation.

In summary, "Lady in the Water" is a multi-layered cinematic experience that immerses viewers in a world of mysticism, connection, and self-discovery. M. Night Shyamalan skillfully weaves these themes into the narrative, drawing audiences into a realm where myths blur with reality, unlikely heroes emerge, and the power of storytelling reshapes lives. This film serves as a reminder that beyond the mundane lies a universe of enchantment, waiting to be discovered by those willing to believe and connect...

Review: Knock at the Cabin by M Night Shayamalan

"Knock at the Cabin" is a 2023 mystery and thriller drama directed by M. Night Shyamalan, a filmmaker renowned for his psychological thrillers like "The Sixth Sense" and "Signs." Adapted from a novel of the same name, the film aims to explore complex moral dilemmas within the framework of a home-invasion thriller. Released on February 3, 2023, the film has garnered a modest box office performance, accumulating $35.4 million in the United States, a figure that pales in comparison to Shyamalan's previous blockbusters.

Set in a remote cabin, the film centers around a young girl and her parents. Their idyllic vacation takes a dark turn when they are invaded by four armed strangers. These intruders present the family with an unthinkable moral choice: make a sacrifice within the family to prevent an apocalyptic event. The tension escalates as the family grapples with the decision, making it a suspenseful watch, albeit one that leaves audiences with more questions than answers.

Knock at the Cabin takes a bold step by featuring a diverse cast that includes a gay couple, Eric (Jonathan Groff) and Andrew (Ben Aldridge), and their adopted Chinese American daughter, Wen (Kristen Cui). This is a significant departure from the traditional thriller genre, which often leans into stereotypes. The film also includes a diverse set of intruders, ranging from a second-grade teacher to a nurse, defying the usual tropes associated with villains in home-invasion thrillers.

However, the film has been criticized for not fully realizing these characters. According to Variety's review, the characters don't resemble any "single human" the reviewer has ever met, suggesting that they feel more like tokens than authentic individuals. The film also misses an opportunity to delve into the complexities and nuances of a non-traditional family in a high-stakes situation. For example, the gay couple in the film doesn't show any physical affection, which critics argue makes them appear "sexless," thereby missing an opportunity for authentic representation.

Moreover, the film's flashbacks reveal that the world hasn't been particularly fair to Eric and Andrew, touching upon issues like homophobic parents and a discriminatory adoption process. Yet, these elements are not explored in depth, making them feel more like plot devices than meaningful narrative elements.

The film presents its characters with an existential moral dilemma: to save the world from an impending apocalypse, they must decide to sacrifice one of their own. This theme of moral ambiguity and choice is not new to cinema but is rarely explored with such high existential stakes.

However, critics argue that the film fails to explore this dilemma in depth. According to the Variety review, Eric and Andrew spend less than one minute of the film's running time actually debating which of their family members they would choose to eliminate. The focus is instead on why the intruders believe that some kind of biblical Armageddon is upon us. This leaves the audience with a "preposterous proposition" rather than a profound exploration of human morality.

The film's moral dilemma also lacks the weight it could have had, partly because the intruders can't force or harm the family in any way, according to the "rules" set by the screenplay. This removes a key element of skepticism and urgency, making the moral dilemma feel more like a thought experiment than a compelling narrative force.

The film has received a mixed bag of reviews. The critics' consensus suggests that it is a thought-provoking but not particularly terrifying chiller. Variety's review was especially critical, pointing out that the film lacks depth in its moral dilemma and features unrealistic characters that don't resonate with real human experiences. This lack of depth and authenticity seems to have impacted the film's overall critical reception negatively.

With a U.S. box office gross of $35.4 million, "Knock at the Cabin" falls short of blockbuster status. This modest financial performance may be indicative of the film's inability to connect with a broader audience, possibly due to its mixed critical reviews and the high expectations set by Shyamalan's previous successes.

When measured against Shyamalan's more successful films like "Split," "Unbreakable," and "Signs," "Knock at the Cabin" appears to lack the narrative cohesion and emotional depth that made those films resonate with audiences. Those films were not only commercial successes but also critically acclaimed for their nuanced exploration of complex themes like identity, heroism, and faith. In contrast, "Knock at the Cabin" seems to fall short in both storytelling and thematic depth.

"Knock at the Cabin" had the ingredients to be a groundbreaking film, with its attempt to challenge societal stereotypes and its exploration of complex moral dilemmas. However, it appears to have missed its mark, receiving mixed critical reviews and achieving only modest commercial success. While it may provoke thought and discussion, it doesn't fully deliver on its thematic promises, especially when compared to some of Shyamalan's more successful and impactful works.

The God Complex of Niander Wallace of Blade Runner 2049

Blade Runner 2049: Niander Wallace's God Complex

Niander Wallace, the enigmatic and morally ambiguous CEO of Wallace Corporation in "Blade Runner 2049," stands as a complex figure who serves multiple thematic roles in the film's exploration of identity, ethics, and the future of humanity. A genius genetic engineer, Wallace rose to prominence by solving a global food crisis through his innovations in genetically modified crops and livestock.

This act of "salvation" gave him the social and political capital to acquire the bankrupt Tyrell Corporation, thereby inheriting the morally fraught legacy of replicant technology.

Armed with a god complex and a vision for humanity's cosmic expansion, Wallace evolves the replicant technology to new heights, albeit at the cost of ethical considerations and individual autonomy. He is both blind and visionary, a savior and an oppressor, making him one of the most intriguing characters in the sci-fi cinematic landscape.

Jared Leto played Wallace.

Wallace's Thematic Role

Niander Wallace serves as a thematic hinge upon which many of the film's questions about ethics and identity swing. Whereas Tyrell from the original "Blade Runner" film focused on creating replicants as an extension of his hubris, lacking long-term foresight, Wallace is far more calculating. Tyrell meets his end at the hands of Roy Batty, a replicant who questions his god-like creator about his limited lifespan. In contrast, Wallace designs his Nexus-9 replicants to be utterly obedient, eliminating the risk of insurrection that led to Tyrell's downfall.

Wallace's blindness also serves as a thematic and narrative tool. Though physically blind, he "sees" through cybernetic implants and flying camera units. This technological eyesight offers a striking contrast to the characters in the film who can physically see but are metaphorically blind to their own condition or the world around them.

For example, K initially fails to realize his own potential for individuality, and Lieutenant Joshi is blind to the moral implications of hunting replicants. Wallace's technology allows him to "see" in a very objective, data-driven way, but he is blind to the moral and ethical ramifications of his actions.

Intentions with Replicants for Colonization

Wallace’s grand vision is galactic expansion and, to him, replicants are nothing but a means to that end. When he acquires Tyrell Corporation and revitalizes the replicant industry, it's not out of any humanitarian concern; it's to fuel his ambition of interstellar colonization. We see this plainly when he examines a new replicant model shortly after its "birth," lamenting that he cannot manufacture them quickly enough to populate the galaxy. He even kills this replicant simply to emphasize his point about their disposability, showing a complete disregard for replicant life.

His interest in replicants capable of reproduction is also instrumental. It’s a logistical solution to a resource problem; he needs more replicants faster than they can be made. The film provides a chilling take on this when Luv, Wallace's loyal replicant assistant, kidnaps Deckard to coerce him into revealing secrets that could lead to replicants being able to reproduce.

Wallace's willingness to kidnap and potentially kill Deckard highlights his single-minded focus on making his vision come true, regardless of the moral cost.

Motivations

While Wallace’s original achievements, like solving the food crisis, may paint him as a benevolent genius, his subsequent actions cast a shadow on that interpretation. His monologues are often tinged with a god complex, as he portrays himself as a savior of humanity. In a dialogue with Deckard, he compares his ambitions to historical figures and civilizations that have used slavery to build empires, brazenly justifying his exploitation of replicants as a logical next step in human civilization.

His language is deliberately messianic, but his actions, such as the aforementioned killing of a new replicant and kidnapping of Deckard, reveal a self-centered, utilitarian ethos. He is willing to be a god, even a cruel one, to achieve his desired ends.

To that end, one of Wallace's most relentless pursuits is locating Deckard's child, Ana Stelline, a living testament to the potential for replicants to reproduce. Ana, who is a memory designer by trade, embodies the very secret that Wallace believes is missing from his new generation of replicants: the ability to naturally procreate. For Wallace, Ana represents not just an individual but a paradigm shift, a key to unlock limitless production of replicants.

If he could dissect or study her to understand how she was conceived, Wallace could potentially unlock the ability for all replicants to reproduce autonomously. This would dramatically accelerate his grand vision of colonizing the universe. His eagerness to find Ana is evidenced when he instructs Luv to kidnap Deckard, willing to go to great lengths to use him as leverage to reach Ana.

The ferocity with which he seeks Ana illuminates the extremity of his ambitions and his willingness to cross ethical boundaries to fulfill them. In his mind, acquiring Ana is akin to acquiring the missing piece of a cosmic puzzle, one that would allow him to exert control over life in a way that no human has done before, solidifying his god-like status in his envisioned new world order.

In summary, Niander Wallace is a figure of extreme contradictions. He’s a man who saved the world from famine, yet commodifies life in the form of replicants. He’s blind but "sees" through technology, a thematic counterpoint to the metaphorical blindness exhibited by other characters.

He dreams of a future where humanity expands across the stars, but his vision is rooted in an exploitation of sentient beings. Each of his actions—whether it be designing replicants to be subservient, kidnapping Deckard, or executing replicants to make a point—serves to elaborate on his complex role within the thematic landscape of "Blade Runner 2049."

'The God Complex' - a classic trait of Hollywood Villains ... and Tony Stark

The "God complex" is a psychological construct that describes individuals who perceive themselves as omnipotent, infallible, and above the moral and social codes that govern the rest of humanity. In movie-making, characters with a God complex serve as focal points for exploring deep-rooted ethical, philosophical, and existential questions.

These characters often push the boundaries of morality, ethics, and human capability, usually exhibiting a form of hubris that blinds them to the implications and consequences of their actions. Through such characters, filmmakers engage the audience in a compelling narrative that challenges perceptions of power, control, and the ethical ramifications of playing god.

Whether it's a scientist pushing the limits of human knowledge, a tech magnate bent on changing the world according to his vision, or a superhuman entity indifferent to human affairs, the God complex offers a rich tapestry of storytelling possibilities that grapple with the complex dynamics of human fallibility and aspiration.

Here's some examples of movie characters featuring the god complex.

Dr. Eldon Tyrell in "Blade Runner" (1982)

Dr. Eldon Tyrell is the creator of the Replicants, human-like androids. He considers himself a god-like figure who has the power to create and end life. His confidence in his creation borders on hubris, and he even quotes William Blake: "Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc." His God complex leads to his demise when one of his creations, Roy Batty, confronts and eventually kills him. This moment underscores the dangers of playing god and the ethical dilemmas that arise from creating sentient life.

Niander Wallace in the sequel Blade Runner 2049 is the same.

Tony Stark in "Iron Man" series (2008-2019)

Tony Stark, especially in the first "Iron Man" film, exhibits a form of a God complex. After building his Iron Man suit, he takes it upon himself to enforce justice, as shown when he unilaterally decides to intervene in a conflict in Gulmira. Stark believes he can single-handedly "privatize world peace," a statement that emanates hubris.

However, his character arc throughout the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) shows him grappling with the consequences of this attitude, culminating in "Avengers: Endgame," where he sacrifices himself for the greater good.

Adrian Veidt (Ozymandias) in "Watchmen" (2009)

Adrian Veidt, or Ozymandias, is a character in "Watchmen" who believes he alone can save the world from nuclear annihilation. His plan to kill millions to save billions reflects a God complex—his belief that he can make decisions for humanity at large. He quotes the poem "Ozymandias" by Percy Bysshe Shelley to reflect on the hubris of rulers who think their works will last forever, yet he himself falls into a similar mindset.

Dr. Manhattan in "Watchmen" (2009)

Alongside Ozymandias, Dr. Manhattan is another "Watchmen" character who exhibits a God complex, albeit in a more detached manner. His powers make him nearly omnipotent, leading him to become increasingly indifferent to human concerns. He manipulates matter at will, sees all time simultaneously, and even goes as far as to say, "I am tired of Earth, these people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives."

Dr. Will Caster in "Transcendence" (2014)

Dr. Will Caster seeks to create a sentient computer, with himself as the model. As he "transcends" into this digital form, he gains unprecedented power, like healing people and regenerating ecosystems. His God complex becomes evident when he starts to influence and control human behavior, sparking ethical debates on the limits of technology.

Nathan Bateman in "Ex Machina" (2014)

Nathan Bateman is a brilliant but arrogant tech CEO who develops an AI named Ava. Nathan's God complex is evident through his belief that he can create conscious beings, demonstrated when he says, "One day the AIs are going to look back on us the same way we look at fossil skeletons on the plains of Africa." His hubris blinds him to the complexities of creating a sentient being, ultimately leading to his downfall.

Dr. Malcolm Betruger in "Doom" (2005)

Though the "Doom" movie may not be the most critically acclaimed, its depiction of Dr. Malcolm Betruger showcases a character with a God complex. He manipulates genetics and opens a portal to Hell, believing he can control these forces for his own ends. His reckless disregard for safety or ethical boundaries ultimately leads to disaster.

Henry Wu in "Jurassic Park" series (1993–Present)

Dr. Henry Wu is a geneticist responsible for recreating dinosaurs. Initially a background character, his God complex becomes more evident in "Jurassic World" (2015) and "Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom" (2018), where he pushes the boundaries of genetic engineering. His creations, like the Indominus Rex and Indoraptor, are examples of his overconfidence in manipulating life, leading to catastrophic results.

Spencer Reid in "The Thirteenth Floor" (1999)

Spencer Reid, the creator of a simulated reality in "The Thirteenth Floor," ultimately suffers from his God complex. He thinks he can control the inhabitants of his virtual world and is blind to the moral implications of his actions. The lines between creator and creation blur as the story unfolds, serving as a cautionary tale for those who believe they can play god without consequence.

Peter Weyland in "Prometheus" (2012)

Peter Weyland funds the Prometheus mission to find humanity's creators and achieve immortality. His overconfidence and hubris lead him to ignore the potential dangers of the mission. His God complex is highlighted when he talks about mankind's accomplishments with AI and biotechnology, stating, "We are the gods now."

Ironically (?) His creation of the AI Robot David actually behaves as if he indeed thinks he is a god of some kind as he attempts to create the Xenomorph.

Ego in "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2" (2017)

Ego, the Living Planet in "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2" (2017), presents a powerful example of a character with a God complex. Ego is a Celestial, a cosmic entity capable of manipulating matter on a grand scale. He has crafted his planet, his human avatar, and even his own offspring, all as part of an elaborate scheme he calls the "Expansion," designed to reshape the universe in his own image.

Ego's God complex is evident in his name alone, but it's further amplified by his actions and beliefs. He thinks of himself as a deity with a divine purpose. When he talks about his plan to Peter Quill (Star-Lord), he frames it as if it's the most natural thing for a god-like entity to do—reshape the universe according to his whim. Ego dismisses other life forms as "unimportant" in his grand design, revealing a complete lack of moral and ethical consideration for anyone but himself.

His God complex reaches its peak when he manipulates Peter into assisting him, almost succeeding in executing his apocalyptic plan. If not for the intervention of Peter's "found family," the Guardians of the Galaxy, Ego would have obliterated countless worlds, reinforcing the dangerous implications of his unchecked hubris.

The Untold Story of Star Wars' Keeper of the Whills

The Star Wars universe, with its rich tapestry of characters, lore, and galaxies, is a veritable playground for those who revel in the exploration of narrative layers beyond the surface-level plot. Among the various elements that contribute to the saga's enduring appeal is a concept that hovers elusively in the background: the Keeper of the Whills.

While not a household name like Darth Vader or Luke Skywalker, the Keeper of the Whills represents a fascinating bridge between the creator's initial ideas and the expansive universe we've come to love. This discussion aims to venture into the labyrinthine corridors of Star Wars' conceptual history to unearth the significance of this often-overlooked element.

We'll delve into how it originated as part of George Lucas's ambitious storytelling plans, why it didn't make the cut in the films that initially captivated audiences worldwide, and how it has curiously resurfaced in recent narratives to become an integral part of the galaxy's spiritual and mythological underpinnings. So, buckle up your starfighter and get ready for an intellectual journey into the cosmic archives of Star Wars mythology.

The Origin: Lucas's Early Vision

George Lucas's first drafts of what would eventually become the Star Wars saga included an intricate framework that differed significantly from the final product. One of the standout elements was the "Journal of the Whills," a document that was meant to be a framing device for the entire series. 

Initially, Lucas envisioned the events of the saga as being recounted by a "Keeper of the Whills," an immortal, cosmic being responsible for documenting the significant events in the galaxy far, far away. This concept wasn't merely a storytelling gimmick; it was part of Lucas's broader vision to imbue the series with a mythological aura that would echo through time and space.

Changing Tides: Why the Concept Was Shelved

Despite its initial importance, the concept of the Keeper of the Whills was largely abandoned as Star Wars evolved. There are various reasons for this, some practical and some creative. Lucas faced several constraints, including budget limitations and technological hurdles, which led to significant changes in the storyline. Additionally, the story started to focus more on the Skywalker family saga, making the framing narrative less relevant. 

Though the Keeper of the Whills faded from immediate view, its philosophical undertones—ideas about destiny, history, and the greater cosmic tapestry—remained in the narrative's background.

The Droid Narrators: How R2-D2 and C-3PO Replaced the Keeper of the Whills

In lieu of the Keeper of the Whills as the saga's cosmic historian, George Lucas found inspiration in more terrestrial realms, specifically from Akira Kurosawa's film, "The Hidden Fortress." Kurosawa's film features two bickering peasants who provide a grounded viewpoint to an epic tale, a storytelling device that Lucas adapted into the characters of R2-D2 and C-3PO. 

These droids offered an 'everyman' lens through which audiences could experience the grand events of a galaxy far, far away. As the constant companions witnessing pivotal moments across the Skywalker saga, R2-D2 and C-3PO effectively serve as the story's narrators. 

Their roles as the observer and chronicler, although not as overtly grandiose as a Keeper of the Whills, bring a touch of relatable, comedic humanity to a narrative steeped in cosmic import. This ingenious pivot not only pays homage to cinematic history but also adds a unique storytelling layer that has made Star Wars an enduring cultural phenomenon.

Indeed, those little droids went on to appear in every single Saga film + Rogue One.

Resurfacing: The Whills in Expanded Universe and Canon

After the original trilogy and the subsequent Expanded Universe (now referred to as "Legends"), the concept of the Whills was not entirely forgotten. It occasionally appeared in non-canon narratives, fueling fan theories and discussions. 

However, it was the film "Rogue One: A Star Wars Story" that brought the Whills back into official canon. Chirrut Îmwe, played by Donnie Yen, is introduced as a Guardian of the Whills. Although not a Keeper, his role as a guardian of an ancient temple adds a spiritual dimension that harks back to Lucas's original ideas.

The Whills are also mentioned indirectly in the sequel trilogy, particularly in "The Last Jedi," through the ancient Jedi texts that Luke Skywalker has in his possession on Ahch-To.

The Keeper of the Whills and Mythical Depth

The idea of a Keeper chronicling the grand narrative of the Star Wars universe enriches the saga by adding layers of mythological depth. This isn't just storytelling; it's meta-storytelling. It presents the events of Star Wars as historical accounts within its own universe, lending an air of grandiosity and eternal significance. This mirrors other mythological archetypes, such as the Fates in Greek mythology, who weave the tapestry of human events. 

The concept imbues the Star Wars saga with a universal, almost spiritual, gravitas that makes it more than just a series of sci-fi movies.

Legacy and Fan Reception

Though not as prominently featured as lightsabers or Sith Lords, the Keeper of the Whills has captured the imagination of a subset of Star Wars fans. Forums, Reddit threads, and fan theories abound with speculations about the role of the Keeper and the Whills in the Star Wars universe. Additionally, official novels like "Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View" offer glimpses into the potential significance of the Whills, maintaining the interest and speculation around the concept. 

While not the centerpiece of any film or series, the Keeper of the Whills remains a tantalizing piece of the Star Wars puzzle, hinting at the vast cosmic history that serves as the saga's backdrop.

Dave Filoni explains the actual story and meaning of Star Wars

David Filoni is like the Heir to the Throne in the sense that he was George Lucas' own padawan as he gave him reign to make The Clone Wars.

Filoni famously created Ashoka and has carried a lot of the creative weight of Star Wars for the last decade, particularly with The Clone Wars and Rebels and truly magical The Mandalorian.

He gets Star Wars.

He really gets it.

As part of the promo for The Mandalorian series of which he and Jon Favreau have been creative leads, he summed up his feelings on the story of Star Wars. In doing so he gives a massive insight into why the music of the saber battle between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn and Darth Maul is called the Duel of the Fates...

Here's the transcript of Filoni explaining the story of Star Wars to the assembled directors of the first season of The Mandalorian. 

-

I love the lightsaber fight with Darth Maul. Not because it's a lightsaber fight, but because George is so good at crafting why that fight is important every time. Like, you know, the Obi-Wan Darth Vader fight isn't, like, the most wonderfully staged, necessarily combat that you're ever gonna see. But there's so much at stake. It's so meaningful when Obi-Wan dies that we all feel like Luke in Phantom Menace.

You're watching these two Jedi in their prime fight this evil villain. Maul couldn't be more obviously the villain. He's designed to look evil, and he is evil, and he just expresses that from his face all the way out through the type of lights. Every fight's with what's at stake is really how Anakin's gonna turn out. Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi. And you get that in the movie.

Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he's the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn't given up on the fact that Jedi are supposed to actually care and love, and that's not a bad thing. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they've become so political that they've really lost their way. And Yoda starts to see that in the second film. But Qui-Gon is ahead of them all. That's why he's not part of the council. So he's fighting for Anakin. And that's why it's the duel of the fate. It's the fate of this child.

Depending on how this fight goes, Anakin's life is gonna be dramatically different. So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, because he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment. And he's left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon. 

Not because he cares about him.

When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine. He's, "Why do I feel like we found another useless life form?" He's comparing Anakin to Jar Jar. And he's saying, "This is a waste of our time. Why are we doing this? Why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this 10-year-old boy? This is useless."

So he's a brother to Anakin eventually, but he's not a father figure. That's a failing for Anakin. He doesn't have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film (Attack of the Clones). He fails on this promise that he made, "Mother, I will come back and save you." So he's left completely vulnerable.

And Star Wars ultimately is about family. So that moment in that movie, which a lot of people, I think, diminish as just a cool lightsaber fight, is everything that the entire three films of the prequels hang on is that one particular fight. And Maul serves his purpose, and at that point, died before. George may bring him back, but he died. And that's showing you again how the Emperor is completely self-serving. He doesn't care; he's just a tool. He's using people.

And it follows all the way through to the line, which terrified me as a kid, when the Emperor tells Luke, "You, like your father, are now mine." And the idea when I was a little kid watching that movie of some evil person possessing my father, making him do things or making him be evil was terrifying. That was like a thought that was horrible.

Also, it's amazing when you watch Return of the Jedi that Luke has never done anything that I would call like he's a bad character. He has a tendency to be dark. And a lot of people wanted Anakin, "Oh, he should have been darker as a character." It's not true at all. I believe Luke would turn to the dark side in Return of the Jedi. I believe that was on the table. I believe that he would kill the Emperor.

And because of the way George arranges the story, I knew that was the wrong thing to do. When he's saying, "You want your weapon, you know, strike me down, I'm defenseless," he wants him to give into his anger. He wants him to give into his hate and fear, the structure that George has laid out in all the movies is coming to fruition now.

And the only thing that's gonna save him is not his connection to the Force. It's not the powers he's learned. It's not all these things that are an advantage to him. That's gotten him to the table. But what saves Luke is his ability to look at all that and look at his father and say, "No, I'm gonna throw away this weapon. I'm not gonna do that. I'm gonna let that go and be selfless."

And he says, "You know, I'm a Jedi like my father before me." But what he's really saying, and why we connect, I connect so profoundly to this, like, he's saying, "I love my father, and there's nothing you can do that's gonna change that." And the Emperor can't understand that connection. "Why wouldn't you take some after you power of the galaxy? Why won't you take this?"

And Anakin then, in that moment, has to decide to be the father that he's never had. He has to give up all the power of the galaxy and save his son. And that's the selfless act that he does in return for his son. And that's what saves him in turn. So the son saves the father, the father follows his son, and it works out perfectly.

And I draw that line all the way from Phantom Menace to Jedi. That's the story of Star Wars.

Jon Favreau: Everybody pops the helmet off in that moment was part of the, yeah, the Vader arc.

Back to Filoni:

It's all part of the Vader arc. It's all part of why it works and why we care. It's not about X-wings. It's not about all these things we decorate Star Wars with. And it's important. It's part of the genius of it.

But we soulfully react like, we don't just want an action movie, we want to feel uplifted. And Star Wars is an adventure that makes you feel good. You know, it makes me feel like, "Wow, I want to be a part of that." So that's what I always go back to with Star Wars, is this selfless act and this family dynamic, which is so important to George, so important to the foundation of Star Wars that's in us.

And what I like about it is it is really saying there is a lot of hope out there, that we fundamentally want to be good people, that we can all be driven to do terrible things, but that we can persevere through selfless action. So George has this hopeful story, and it's something that he's reiterated most times I've seen him, you know, after we've been making things without him, is remember to make these stories hopeful. Remember to give that to kids because they really need it. And so that's just something to keep in mind.

Listen to Filoni here

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Other than the insights, this also just shows how much Filoni knows his Star Wars! Want to learn about the effect of Order 66 on the Jedi?

Ashoka Episode 3 Review - Time To Fly

After a slow burn introduction of a live action Ashoka in Master and Apprentice & Toil and Trouble, episode 3, Time to Fly up the gears with lots of spaceship dog fighting. 

And Ashoka showing how to reallllly do Mary Poppins in space...

The episode is a treasure trove of Star Wars lore, character development, and tantalizing hints at the future of the galaxy far, far away. The episode continues the journey of Ahsoka Tano (Rosario Dawson) and Sabine Wren (Natasha Liu Bordizzo) as they delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding Morgan Elsbeth (Diana Lee Inosanto) and her connection to Grand Admiral Thrawn. The episode is a rollercoaster of emotions, revelations, and action that leaves fans eagerly awaiting the next installment.

One of the most poignant moments in the episode is when Ahsoka takes over Sabine's Jedi training, introducing a practice style known as "Zatochi." This technique, which involves a masked helmet to block physical sight, is a direct callback to Luke Skywalker's initial training with Obi-Wan Kenobi aboard the Millennium Falcon in "A New Hope." The name "Zatochi" itself is a nod to Japanese culture, specifically a blind swordsman from Japan's Edo period, further emphasizing Star Wars' roots in Akira Kurosawa films and samurai culture.

Hera Syndulla's (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) plea to the New Republic for aid highlights the political complexities in the galaxy. Despite her impassioned arguments, the New Republic Senatorial Committee declines her request, citing a lack of evidence for an Imperial resurgence. This moment serves as a stark reminder of the bureaucratic hurdles that our heroes must overcome, even when the threat is as imminent as Thrawn's return.

The episode also introduces us to Hera's son, Jacen Syndulla, who expresses a desire to become a Jedi like his late father, Kanan Jarrus. This sets the stage for a new generation of Jedi and adds another layer to the rich tapestry of characters in the Star Wars universe.
The Force in All Things

Ahsoka's belief that Sabine can use the Force, despite her low aptitude, is a significant moment. It echoes Kanan Jarrus' teachings in "Star Wars Rebels," emphasizing that the Force resides in all living things. This opens up intriguing possibilities for Sabine's character development and her role in the larger Star Wars narrative.

Ahsoka's combat skills are on full display as she defends her T-6 shuttle from an attack in orbit around Seatos. Her acrobatics and lightsaber skills are a testament to her growth since her days as Anakin Skywalker's Padawan, solidifying her as one of the most skilled Jedi in the galaxy.

Morgan Elsbeth's "Eye of Sion" is revealed to be a giant hyperspace ring capable of intergalactic travel. This technology could potentially bring back Thrawn and his Star Destroyer, the Chimera, adding a sense of urgency to Ahsoka and Sabine's mission.

The episode confirms a long-standing Star Wars theory about Purrgil, the space whales, being the key to ancient hyperspace routes. This ties back to Ezra Bridger's storyline in "Star Wars Rebels," making the universe feel interconnected.

The episode also hints at underlying tensions between Morgan Elsbeth and Shin Hati, suggesting that alliances are fragile and could shift as the story progresses.

The episode ends on a light cliffhanger, with Ahsoka and Sabine's T-6 shuttle severely damaged, setting the stage for Hera's likely intervention in the next episode.

The final scene shows former Jedi Baylan Skoll sending troops and HK assassin droids to hunt down Ahsoka and Sabine.

Episode 3 of "Ahsoka" is a masterclass in storytelling, character development, and world-building by writer David Filoni. It successfully weaves together multiple storylines while introducing new elements that enrich the Star Wars universe. From the training of new Jedi to the political machinations of the New Republic, the episode sets the stage for an epic showdown that could change the fate of the galaxy.