In
thinking about Rogue One and its
ragtag band of rebels made up of a white woman, four men of color, and a
deadpan droid, different things come to mind.
There’s the regrettable, like, “Jyn is great and all, but one complex heroine
doesn’t even out the gender imbalance here,” or, “How long before we see women of color in Star Wars?” However, there’s also the positive, like,
“Can I get a whole prequel about Chirrut and Baze?” or, “A movie about women
and PoC working to fight against fascist oppressors is just the type of movie
we need right now” (well, the reasons why
we need it aren’t positive, but given that those reasons aren’t going away
anytime soon, I appreciate the movie’s existence even more.) One thing, though, that really struck me
about Rogue One and its place within
the Star Wars saga is the parallels
it draws – intentional or otherwise – to our relationship with history, race,
and gender (premise spoilers.)
The
original films are classics for a reason, but they’re also products of the time
in which they were made, as we essentially have one prominent PoC and one
significant woman in the span of three movies.
Now, I don’t really want to bag on Leia here – for all the gold bikinis,
she’s still a very rootable character who stays strong in the face of immense
hardships. That said, she doesn’t get
the volume of big Action Hero moments that white guys Luke and Han do, and
while there are obviously many different ways to be strong, these are the
moments that speak the loudest in series like this, and so the films do tend to
push Luke and Han forward as the “heroes” more visibly than they do Leia.
The
prequel trilogy does little to improve on this front. In place of Leia and Lando, we have Padme and
Mace Windu, surrounded by the white guys who are the main movers of the
plot. The prequels also add Jar-Jar,
which certainly can’t be considered a win for diversity. (Not that a lack of racial and gender
diversity is the only reason the prequels don’t deliever – there are many, and plenty of fans can enumerate
them far better than me – but it doesn’t help.)
The Force Awakens, on the other hand,
feels like a conscious shift. With our
new trio of Rey, Finn, and Poe, the film seems to carry the unspoken brand of
“a new Star Wars for a new era.” A galaxy far, far away with room for
everyone, where the new heroes you see onscreen don’t necessarily have to look
like the heroes you’ve seen before. Even
showing General Leia in a key role feels like part of the same thread, a pioneer
from the past seeing the fruits her labors have borne for the new generation.
But then,
we have Rogue One. It was made after The Force Awakens and adds to the gender and racial diversity of
that film (though, as I’ve said, the movie still has a huge gender imbalance
and has yet to really recognize WoC,) but it’s set just prior to A New Hope. And even though A New Hope comes narratively after the prequels, it was obviously
the first film made in the whole franchise, and Rogue One’s tie-ins with that film – particularly its impact on A New Hope’s third act – make it feel
like a genuine precursor to the movies that came before it. In light of that, what does it say that our
heroes in this movie are a woman and people of color? It says, “We’ve always been there.”
Not in a
way that feels like kind of a copout, a la, “Dumbledore was gay the whole time!” No, not like that. To me, the film seems to say, “These stories
have existed all along, but this is the first one you’ve been given a chance to
see.” Because the Rogue One mission does tie directly into A New Hope climactic space battle. That movie gives us the Death Star plans that
reveal the tiny flaw, allowing for Luke’s big heroic moment, but Rogue One gives us the story inside the
story, the one of the people who fought to get those plans in the first
place. We’ve always known about the
white guy who blew up the Death Star, but this is the first we’re hearing and
the woman and PoC who got him the intel he needed to make that happen.
It
reminds me of a sentiment I’ve seen online surrounding the anticipation for Hidden Figures. Aside from, “This looks amazing!”, I keep
seeing, “Why haven’t I already heard this story before?” Why didn’t I know about these incredible
Black women who helped allow a white guy to orbit the Earth, and what other
stories from our history haven’t been given their proper due because they don’t
star the more acceptably-packaged straight white able-bodied male protagonist?
The
diversity in Rogue One is
progressive, but in this way, it also feels like an unspoken acknowledgment of
a past to make up for. Rather than
merely congratulating itself for its diversity, the film seems to recognize
that it isn’t just moving forward. It’s
also making up for lost time, almost apologizing for the stories it could have
been giving us all along. Whether or not
this was anything put into the movie consciously, I still really appreciate
this thread and hope other beloved fandoms that aren’t as diverse as they could
be take a page from Rogue One’s book,
making amends for stories they’ve left untold.
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