The Acolyte Doubles Down on One of the Prequel’s Most Interesting Ideas

The Acolyte Doubles Down on One of the Prequel’s Most Interesting Ideas

For well-documented reasons, George Lucas’ trilogy of Star Wars prequels are largely not very good. They are marred by endless dry exposition, garish CGI, painful performances, groan-inducing dialogue, and one of the most justifiably disliked “comic relief” characters in recent memory. But despite their largely inept execution (at least until Episode III — Revenge of the Sith), there are still some fairly interesting ideas buried under the wreckage of unfilled promises and fan disappointment.

For starters, the films detail the Galactic Republic’s slow walk into fascism, depicting how an unending war is used to justify increasing authoritarian stances, like the suspension of certain liberties and expansion of executive power. While the fall of the Roman Republic is often touted as the most direct inspiration, intentionally or not, the films also parallel the War on Terror era they were released during, as a deeply flawed liberal democracy comes apart at the seams.

And throughout the decline of the Republic, the Jedi Order, the institution we may have expected to stop this power grab, not only fails to stop it but directly enables this collapse by reorienting their entire organization to spearhead the war effort. Although they can tell something is wrong and butt heads with the chancellor and Senate, they largely do what the soon-to-be Empire asks of them with little pushback. On top of this, they ignore slavery in the Outer Rim, are totally okay with commanding a clone-slave army, and non-critically employ violence afforded to them by their proximity to the state. And beyond just being led by the nose by Palpatine and ignoring these broader injustices, the deep-seated flaws in the Jedi’s belief structures eventually created a monster who helped drive the final nail into the Republic’s coffin (more on this later).

By contrast, the original films framed the Jedi Order with gravitas and morality, or at least, that’s how the group is remembered by the nostalgic old hermits we meet in the original movies, Obi-Wan Kenobi and the little goblin man Yoda. The prequels shattered this myth, and since then, the series has wavered between depicting the Jedi as uncomplicated warriors of justice, more ambiguous “keepers of the peace” (i.e., space cops), and a clan of largely misguided goobers whose ideology cyclically brings about explosions of destruction.

While they’re obviously never depicted as outright Evil (as there is always a rotating cast of red lightsaber-wielding cartoon bad guys waiting in the wings to fulfill this role), the many shows and movies under the Disney umbrella have felt a little muddled in their stance, best exemplified by the tonal whiplash of going from the Jedi-skeptical The Last Jedi, to the incompetently executed, uncritical nonsense of The Rise of Skywalker. For whatever its issues, Disney+’s The Acolyte eventually makes its own stance on the Jedi quite clear. Here, we see an institution that deeply believes it’s doing the right thing but that keeps repeating the same mistakes out of a refusal to change.

To briefly set the stage for The Acolyte, the show follows twin sisters, Osha and Mae (both portrayed by Amandla Stenberg), whose lives are forever altered when the Jedi come to their planet, Brendok. These events are shown twice: the first time through Osha’s incomplete, flawed memory of the event and a second through a more objective lens as we see the full truth of what happened. After a group of Jedi arrive on the planet to investigate a strange phenomenon, Master Sol (Lee Jung-jae) assumes that Osha and Mae are in danger living with their Force Witch Coven.

In reality, things are more complicated, and although Osha ultimately feels out of place in the Coven and wants to leave, she doesn’t seem to actually be in harm’s way. The Jedi test the girls for force sensitivity, and after Osha passes the test, they say she is a candidate for Jedi training. As the Coven deliberates on whether to let Osha join the Order, Sol storms their home. He cuts down Osha and Mae’s mother, assuming her to be a threat, while the rest of the Coven are wiped out in a fire Mae accidentally created. After the disaster, this group of Jedi co-conspirators decide to cover up what happened from the rest of the Order, justifying this deception as a way to give Osha a shot at becoming a Jedi (which, ultimately, doesn’t happen).

The sequence demonstrates a whole host of longstanding issues with the Order: the fact that they separate children from their families and cultures, their perceived monopoly over usage of the Force, and their function as police-like agents who unilaterally enforce their will (resulting in an unlawful killing that they cover up). Later, we see how Vernestra (Rebecca Henderson), another Jedi Master, views this tragedy as a political liability that needs to be pinned on a single “bad apple” (Sol) so it doesn’t jeopardize her own position or the Order’s power.

However, it’s when Vernestra exchanges barbs with Senator Rayencourt (David Harewood), a politician who has been gunning for more government oversight on the Jedi, that the series’ central criticism of the Order is put front and center. After Vernestra asks why Rayencourt is so skeptical of the group, he responds, “I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to control the uncontrollable.” After Vernestra assumes that the Force is the uncontrollable thing they’ve claimed mastery over, he adds, “Not the Force. Your emotions. You project an image of goodness and restraint, but it’s only a matter of time before one of you snaps. And when, not ‘if’ that happens, who will be strong enough to stop him?”

It’s a scathing critique that bears a lot of credence, especially considering a certain figure who comes along later: Anakin Skywalker. He was unable to live up to the Jedi’s lofty ideals due to an inability to control his bottled emotions, something that increasingly drove him away from his colleagues. He fell into feelings of anger and loss following his mother’s death and ultimately succumbed to the fear of losing Padmé, too. In the end, his alienation from the Order’s precepts drove him towards Darth Sidious, facilitating the transformation of the Republic into the Empire. Now, you could argue that Anakin is just sort of an asshole, and you wouldn’t be wrong; he does massacre a whole troupe of Tuscan Raiders and later cuts down Jedi children on his path to becoming Darth Vader, one of the great big bads in cinematic history.

However, Anakin isn’t a one-off. In The Last Jedi, we learn that decades later, Kylo Ren would essentially do the same thing, as his isolation and inability to live up to Luke’s teachings played a part in why he massacred his fellow apprentices. And in The Acolyte, we see more Jedi unable to control repressed emotions, with Sol and seemingly also The Stranger (Manny Jacinto) orchestrating disastrous events. One of the main reasons Sol invaded the Force Witch Coven without concrete evidence of wrongdoing is because he was similarly driven by emotions. His desire for a padawan paired with his own self-righteousness and sympathy for Osha caused him to make reckless choices that led to dozens of deaths. He was an esteemed Jedi Master, but even he couldn’t keep a level head.

The Jedi claim mastery over their fear, anger, and even love. But time and time again, we see how this naïve assumption that they can control the uncontrollable drives wayward pupils into a corner, eventually leading to massive destruction as these negative emotions boil over. Unable to rid themselves of these feelings, they bottle them up, this ascetic repression suddenly bursting forth in the worst way possible. You would think the Order would learn or adapt, but like most religious institutions, they are stubborn and slow to change.

And in case you were of the mind that The Acolyte was going to place all of the blame over what happened on Brendok on Sol and suggest that he’s a single bad cop, erm, I mean Jedi, in an otherwise upstanding organization, after his deception is revealed, Vernestra immediately orchestrates her own cover-up. She lies to the council to hide the presence of what seems to be a whole separate screw-up concerning her pupil, The Stranger, which would jeopardize her personal position and the Jedi’s standing. It would seem there are quite a few rotten apples who can’t control their feelings. Much like real-world policing bodies, the flaws with the Jedi Order seem to come from structural and ideological failings instead of individual bad actors.

Again, Senator Rayencourt basically states the show’s themes out loud when he explains why he’s so hellbent on holding Jedi accountable: “The majority of my colleagues can’t imagine a galaxy without the Jedi. And I can understand why. When you’re looking up to heroes, you don’t have to face what’s right in front of you.” On top of criticizing the Jedi’s unchecked power and flaws, this line also works at a meta-level.

One of the many controversial elements in the prequels is how the Jedi went from being portrayed as an idealized order of chivalric warriors who always did the right thing to a more flawed, complicated, and sometimes incompetent institution that got thoroughly hoodwinked by a guy named Sheev. Granted, in the original movies, the only accounts we have that the Jedi behaved like the former come from two nostalgic old dudes, but there is still a certain framing to how these figures were presented before, whether it’s the way Obi-Wan bravely sacrificed himself in Empire Strikes Back or in the dramatic reveal of a post-training Luke in Return of the Jedi.

I think the big difference here is that, while the original trilogy’s depiction of the Jedi is clearly drawing on the verbiage of ancient legends, the prequels took the Order into a world of messy complexities that are more inspired by history and contemporary politics than Arthurian tales. Although the organization was still ultimately portrayed as the “good guys,” they no longer had an untouchable sheen, either when it came to strength or morality.

And while I can understand why some people would want them to continue being clear-cut heroes given the framing of the original movies, I simply don’t think that is the most dramatically compelling move, partially because it’s hard to center an entire fictional world around unambiguously upstanding do-gooders who are always right, and also because it feels exceptionally dishonest that this government affiliated pseudo-police force would always make the right call.

I won’t pretend that The Acolyte is a flawless TV show—it takes a little too long to get going, has some pacing issues, kills off its characters too readily for us to grow much attachment to them, and ends as soon as it gets into its best ideas—but the series’ critiques of the Jedi Order are well-grounded. It focuses on some of the most intriguing thematic through-lines from the prequels, showcasing how the Jedi’s ironclad belief that they can control every disciple’s emotions through a strictly enforced religious code is a recipe for disaster. It makes it clear that, much like the real-world systems and organizations that the Order and the Galactic Republic represent, these institutions badly need to change, or they’ll keep repeating yesterday’s mistakes. Maybe one of these days, Disney will take the memo and fully embrace a world after the Jedi in their current form.


Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.

For all the latest TV news, reviews, lists and features, follow @Paste_TV.

 
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