Let's be real for a second. Mentioning Rian Johnson’s middle chapter of the sequel trilogy in a crowded room is basically like throwing a thermal detonator into a Pit of Carkoon. People have feelings. But when you strip away the social media shouting matches and the review-bombing drama, the actual Star Wars: The Last Jedi characters represent some of the most daring risks Lucasfilm has ever taken. They aren't just archetypes anymore. They’re messy.
Whether you loved the "salt planet" showdown or walked out of the theater wondering what happened to your childhood hero, there is no denying that the character arcs in this specific film changed the trajectory of the franchise. It wasn't just about lightsabers. It was about failure. Honestly, that’s a tough pill for a lot of fans to swallow when they’re used to invincible space wizards.
The Luke Skywalker Problem: Hero or Hermit?
The biggest sticking point for most folks is undeniably Luke Skywalker. We left him on a high note in Return of the Jedi, right? He was the guy who saw the good in Darth Vader. Then, decades later, we find him sipping green milk on a rainy island, wanting the Jedi Order to die. It’s a jarring shift. Mark Hamill himself famously told Rian Johnson, "I fundamentally disagree with every choice you’ve made for this character."
But looking at the narrative through a lens of trauma changes things. Luke wasn't just being "grumpy." He was a man crushed by the weight of his own legend. He saw a darkness in Ben Solo—his own nephew—and for a split second, he considered ending it. That moment of human weakness is what defines the Star Wars: The Last Jedi characters in this installment. They aren't statues. They make massive, world-altering mistakes. When Luke eventually faces Kylo Ren on Crait, he doesn't even use a physical blade. He uses a projection. It’s the ultimate Jedi move: defense and delay without a single drop of blood spilled.
Rey and the "Nobody" Revelation
For two years leading up to 2017, the internet was obsessed. Was Rey an Obi-Wan descendant? A Skywalker? A clone? When Kylo Ren told her, "You have no place in this story. You come from nothing. You’re nothing," it felt like a slap in the face to the audience.
It was brilliant.
By making Rey a "nobody," the movie argued that the Force doesn't belong to a specific bloodline. You don't need a famous last name to be the hero. This was a radical departure from the "dynasty" feel of the previous six films. While The Rise of Skywalker eventually walked this back by making her a Palpatine, within the vacuum of The Last Jedi, Rey’s character growth was about finding self-worth internally rather than looking for it in a family tree. She stopped waiting for her parents and started leading the Resistance.
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Kylo Ren: The Villain Who Killed His Master
Most Star Wars villains are subordinates. Vader answered to the Emperor. Maul answered to Sidious. Even Dooku was a pawn. Kylo Ren broke that cycle. By slicing Supreme Leader Snoke in half with a flick of his fingers, he became the first cinematic Star Wars villain to actually take the throne mid-story.
Adam Driver brought a level of raw, unhinged physicality to the role that made Kylo feel genuinely dangerous. He wasn't a cool, collected Sith Lord. He was a ticking time bomb. His connection with Rey—the "Force Dyad"—provided the emotional backbone of the film. You almost wanted them to join forces. You almost thought they would. But Kylo’s tragedy is his inability to let go of the past, even while he screams about killing it. He is the foil to Rey; she accepts her humble beginnings, while he is haunted by his prestigious ones.
The Polarizing Trio: Finn, Poe, and Rose Tico
While the Force-users were busy on Ahch-To, the rest of the Star Wars: The Last Jedi characters were stuck in a high-stakes car chase through space. This is where the movie gets the most flak. Poe Dameron starts the movie as a "flyboy" hero, but Vice Admiral Holdo (played with a stoic coldness by Laura Dern) puts him in his place.
It’s a lesson in leadership. Poe thinks every problem can be solved by jumping in an X-wing and blowing something up. Holdo knows that survival is about more than just "winning." This friction leads to a literal mutiny, which is wild for a Star Wars movie.
Then you have Finn and Rose Tico.
Rose, played by Kelly Marie Tran, was a character meant to represent the "ordinary person" in the middle of a galactic war. Her mission with Finn to Canto Bight is often criticized for being a detour, but it serves a vital thematic purpose. It shows Finn—who was previously only motivated by saving Rey—why the Resistance actually matters. He sees the war profiteering. He sees the cruelty. He goes from being a guy trying to run away to a man willing to sacrifice himself for a cause.
Why the Canto Bight Arc Matters (Even if you hated it)
Look, the casino sequence is long. The "Fathier" chase feels a bit like a Disney theme park ride. But if you cut it, Finn doesn't have an arc. He starts the movie trying to abandon ship to find Rey. He ends it by staring down Captain Phasma and declaring himself "Resistance scum."
That transition is fueled by Rose Tico’s perspective. She isn't a pilot or a general; she’s a mechanic who lost her sister. Her line about "saving what we love" instead of "fighting what we hate" basically summarizes the entire philosophy of the film. It's cheesy? Sure. It's Star Wars. Star Wars has always been a little bit cheesy.
The Subversion of Expectations
What makes these Star Wars: The Last Jedi characters so unique is how they fail.
- Poe fails his mission and gets people killed.
- Finn and Rose fail to find the Master Codebreaker and get betrayed by DJ (Benicio del Toro).
- Luke fails his nephew.
- Rey fails to turn Kylo back to the light.
In most blockbusters, the second act is about the heroes getting a small win before the big climax. Here, they just keep losing. It’s a gut punch. But it makes the final stand on Crait feel earned. When the Resistance is whittled down to just a handful of people on the Millennium Falcon, the stakes feel real because we’ve seen them actually lose.
Practical Insights for Revisiting the Film
If you're planning a rewatch, try focusing on the "Failure is the greatest teacher" theme. It’s literally spoken by Yoda—who makes a surprise appearance as a Force ghost—and it’s the key to understanding why the characters act the way they do.
- Watch the background details during the Force-bond scenes. Notice how the environment of Ahch-To and the First Order ship start to bleed into each other. It shows the intimacy and the blurring lines between Rey and Kylo.
- Pay attention to the color red. From the throne room guards to the salt on Crait, red is used to signify violence and the "bleeding" of the old ways.
- Contrast Poe’s first scene with his last. In the beginning, he’s ignoring orders to retreat. By the end, he’s the one telling everyone to stop the attack because he realizes they can’t win by brute force alone.
The characters in The Last Jedi aren't supposed to be perfect icons. They are people trying to figure out their place in a galaxy that feels like it’s falling apart. Whether you think Rian Johnson "ruined" Star Wars or "saved" it, the depth of these characterizations is why we’re still talking about them nearly a decade later.
To truly understand the sequel trilogy, you have to look at the transition of these characters into The Rise of Skywalker. The choices made in The Last Jedi forced the final film to deal with a fractured Resistance and a Supreme Leader who had no master to hide behind. It set the stage for a finale that, for better or worse, had to be built on the ruins of the past—exactly as the movie intended.