When it comes to modern film franchises, it seems like audiences are stuck between a rock and a hard place: either they get a formulaic rehash that feels safe yet soulless, or a wildly divergent take that alienates and divides the fan base. Nowhere is this better exemplified than in the infamous dichotomy of Disney’s Star Wars sequels, specifically The Force Awakens directed by J.J. Abrams and The Last Jedi directed by Rian Johnson. Together, these films represent two common pitfalls in modern sequels—the reliance on nostalgia and the drive to subvert expectations—and the controversy they sparked reveals just how difficult it is to create a sequel that both respects its source material and satisfies fans.
The Force Awakens: The Trap of Nostalgia
When The Force Awakens hit theaters in 2015, it was met with tremendous anticipation. After all, it was the first Star Wars film in a decade and was backed by Disney’s ambitious investment in the franchise. J.J. Abrams, known for his work on Star Trek and Lost, had a monumental task ahead of him: to reintroduce a beloved saga to both longtime fans and new audiences. But in his effort to make the film feel familiar and safe, Abrams leaned heavily on nostalgia, resulting in a film that felt less like a bold continuation and more like a reboot.
For many fans, The Force Awakens was enjoyable but too familiar. Abrams seemed to prioritize recreating the magic of A New Hope rather than taking the story to new heights. Characters like Rey, Finn, and Kylo Ren showed promise, but their arcs felt secondary to the larger goal of simply reawakening the nostalgia for the original trilogy. Critics and audiences noted the film’s striking resemblance to the original Star Wars film: a desert scavenger with mysterious origins, a masked villain with a red lightsaber, a superweapon destroying planets. Abrams’ film avoided risks, relying instead on rehashed plot points and familiar themes that catered to fan service but ultimately sacrificed originality.
The Force Awakens represents one of the common trends in sequels today: an excessive reliance on nostalgia. In a franchise landscape dominated by corporate investments, nostalgia has become a safe, profitable strategy. Studios aim to maximize returns on familiar characters, locations, and plot devices, banking on the assumption that familiarity will translate to success. However, in trying to appeal to fans by replicating the past, sequels like The Force Awakens ultimately struggle to make a lasting impact.
The Last Jedi: The Drive to Subvert Expectations
Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi took a completely different approach. Released in 2017, it aimed to break free from the nostalgic constraints of its predecessor by pushing the story in bold and unconventional directions. Johnson wanted to shake things up, challenging established myths and character arcs to redefine what Star Wars could be. However, his vision clashed with the expectations of a significant portion of the fan base, sparking intense backlash and dividing the audience.
Johnson’s subversion of expectations was evident throughout the film. He redefined Luke Skywalker, portraying him as a jaded, reluctant hero who had lost faith in the Jedi. He disregarded Rey’s mysterious origins, suggesting that anyone—not just those born with special lineage—could be powerful in the Force. He even sidelined the film’s primary antagonist, Snoke, killing him off unexpectedly. Johnson’s goal was clear: to challenge assumptions and reject fan theories, to surprise rather than satisfy.
While some praised The Last Jedi for its boldness, others found it disrespectful to the legacy of Star Wars. Longtime fans who had grown attached to certain character arcs and plot expectations were left feeling betrayed. In rejecting the safe and nostalgic approach of The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi risked alienating the very audience it aimed to captivate. Johnson’s approach highlighted a critical issue in modern sequels: the desire to break the mold, even at the cost of fan loyalty.
Where The Force Awakens erred on the side of comfort, The Last Jedi ventured too far into discomfort. And while risk-taking in storytelling is often essential, Johnson’s subversions seemed to deny fans the resolution they had spent years hoping to see.
Why Sequels Struggle to Satisfy Audiences
This divide between safe nostalgia and subversive innovation isn’t exclusive to Star Wars. From superhero films to legacy franchises, sequels today often find themselves trapped in this tug-of-war. Studios have increasingly adopted the mindset of “either-or,” feeling as though they must choose between rehashing old ideas or taking shocking creative liberties. Often, they fail to strike the delicate balance that sequels need in order to both respect the original and expand on it meaningfully.
Part of this problem stems from the sheer volume of content modern franchises produce. To maintain interest and profitability, many studios push for more sequels, reboots, and spin-offs, often at the expense of thoughtful, coherent storytelling. Sequels become less about advancing the story in a meaningful way and more about catering to market trends and fan demographics. And with social media amplifying fan voices, creators are pressured to deliver immediate satisfaction—whether by indulging in nostalgia or subverting it.
The Consequences for the Future of Franchises
For better or worse, both The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi highlight the dilemmas facing today’s blockbuster sequels. In trying to either meet or defy expectations, filmmakers may end up losing sight of the storytelling fundamentals that made these franchises beloved in the first place. When studios try to appeal to everyone, they often wind up satisfying no one.
In the aftermath of the Star Wars sequel trilogy, the fan base remains divided, and the lessons are evident. Future franchises will need to find ways to strike a balance: to create sequels that respect their origins while also taking meaningful risks. That may mean allowing creators to craft stories that respect character arcs and lore without needing to resort to nostalgia or shock value.
Modern sequels often face a sad reality. They operate under a corporate structure that pressures them to be both familiar and groundbreaking, resulting in a narrow creative space. Without careful planning, thoughtful writing, and a willingness to stay true to the story’s roots, sequels may continue to disappoint. Only by finding a middle ground—one that honors the past without being confined by it—will franchises escape the pitfalls of playing it safe or going too far, and finally deliver the kinds of stories fans can rally behind.
The Rise of Skywalker: Proof That Hollywood Didn’t Really Care About the Fans
If The Force Awakens catered too much to nostalgia and The Last Jedi tried too hard to subvert it, The Rise of Skywalker—the final installment in Disney’s Star Wars sequel trilogy—illustrated a deeper and more troubling reality: that Hollywood was more focused on commercial success than on delivering a story that genuinely respected fans or honored the Star Wars legacy. Released in 2019 and directed once again by J.J. Abrams, The Rise of Skywalker attempted to reconcile the conflicting tones and choices of the previous two films. But in trying to satisfy every fan, the film ended up feeling hollow, rushed, and incoherent, highlighting the extent to which Hollywood’s vision of “fan service” has become disconnected from what fans actually want.
A Rush to the Finish Line
The Rise of Skywalker was caught in an almost impossible position. After the divisive reception of The Last Jedi, Disney seemed to feel pressured to make amends, reconciling fans disappointed by the radical direction Rian Johnson had taken while also trying to maintain a coherent trilogy arc. But instead of using these challenges as an opportunity to deepen the story, The Rise of Skywalker rushed to tie up every loose end, piling on plot twists and character arcs in an effort to reach a satisfying conclusion. The result was a frantic, disjointed film that felt more like a checklist of fan-pleasing moments than a carefully considered narrative.
Perhaps the most telling example was the return of Emperor Palpatine, a move that both came out of nowhere and undermined the arcs of Anakin and Luke Skywalker, who had defeated him in the original trilogy. With a quick, unexplained resurrection, Palpatine was back in power, signaling that the creative team was more interested in using recognizable villains than in building a new, credible threat. This decision seemed to reflect a “crowd-pleasing” impulse, where the studio thought that bringing back iconic characters would excite audiences. But instead, it illustrated a disregard for the mythology built over previous films and ignored the significance of Palpatine’s defeat to the original series.
Fan Service Gone Wrong
Hollywood has come to rely heavily on the concept of “fan service,” assuming that by including familiar characters, references, and nostalgic nods, fans will be happy. But The Rise of Skywalker is a prime example of how poorly executed fan service can backfire. Instead of thoughtful callbacks or organic development, fans were given hurried explanations, abrupt character shifts, and over-the-top spectacles. Rey’s parentage, for instance, was rewritten yet again, turning her into Palpatine’s granddaughter in an attempt to give her a more “epic” origin. This not only contradicted the themes of The Last Jedi, which argued that anyone could be powerful, but also felt like a last-minute scramble to make Rey’s story fit with the larger saga.
Likewise, The Rise of Skywalker leaned into the unresolved romance subplot between Rey and Kylo Ren, ultimately leading to a kiss that felt jarring and forced. Instead of a natural resolution of their complex relationship, this moment was a hastily assembled attempt to satisfy a subset of fans, ignoring the dark dynamics of their connection in favor of a dramatic, “fan-pleasing” moment.
These choices suggest that Hollywood’s view of fan service often underestimates its audience. Instead of providing fans with meaningful story arcs that respect the saga’s legacy, studios deliver shallow, hastily constructed moments that feel designed for social media trends or to boost box-office numbers. By throwing a mishmash of “iconic” moments and big reveals at the screen, The Rise of Skywalker seemed to prioritize spectacle over substance.
Ignoring Consistent Storytelling
One of the most glaring issues in the sequel trilogy—and especially The Rise of Skywalker—was the lack of a unified vision or coherent storyline. While George Lucas’s original and prequel trilogies had an overarching plan, Disney’s Star Wars sequels often felt like they were being written on the fly. Abrams and Johnson had vastly different storytelling styles, and there was no cohesive roadmap for the series from the outset. Without a clear plan, each director was left to impose their own vision, leading to a disjointed experience that was ultimately capped by The Rise of Skywalker, a film that tried to rewrite the series’ narrative to fit Hollywood’s idea of a satisfying finale.
The lack of consistent storytelling wasn’t just frustrating for fans—it was insulting. Many viewers had invested decades into the Star Wars universe, with expectations for characters and storylines they had grown up with. Hollywood’s failure to approach the series with a clear vision implied that the story didn’t matter as much as the spectacle. Instead of investing in quality storytelling that would honor the legacy and depth of Star Wars, the studio’s rushed, last-minute course corrections sent a clear message: the fans weren’t as important as the franchise’s bottom line.
The Reality of Modern Blockbusters
The Rise of Skywalker revealed a troubling aspect of the blockbuster industry today. In an era when franchises like Star Wars, Marvel, and Jurassic Park have become enormous cultural and commercial forces, studios often prioritize box office potential and brand loyalty over creative depth. Hollywood knows that certain films are almost “critic-proof”—they can count on massive returns simply because they’re part of a beloved franchise. This reality leads to a cycle where studios feel emboldened to prioritize spectacle, nostalgia, and shock value, while investing less in genuine narrative quality.
For fans, this is a disheartening reality. Major franchises have often become so focused on pleasing everyone that they lose the core of what made them special in the first place. Instead of treating fans as a loyal audience deserving of a well-crafted story, Hollywood often treats them as data points, relying on market research and online feedback to determine plot points and character arcs rather than focusing on authentic storytelling.
Can Hollywood Learn from Star Wars’ Mistakes?
The backlash to The Rise of Skywalker should serve as a wake-up call to Hollywood. Audiences have become savvier, and fan communities are more vocal and connected than ever. Fans want sequels that respect continuity, honor character development, and offer more than surface-level fan service. Hollywood’s reliance on nostalgia and over-the-top plot twists may guarantee opening weekend profits, but it risks eroding long-term loyalty.
The lesson from the Star Wars sequel trilogy—and particularly The Rise of Skywalker—is that creating sequels without a clear and respectful vision ultimately hurts the franchise. Fans want to feel as though their loyalty is reciprocated with thoughtful storytelling, not exploited with shallow spectacle. Moving forward, studios need to recognize that fan service is more than throwing in recognizable characters or flashy set pieces. It’s about creating stories that respect the intelligence, dedication, and investment of the fan base.
In the end, The Rise of Skywalker may have closed one chapter of the Star Wars saga, but it left Hollywood with a choice: to continue making blockbusters that sacrifice meaning for profit, or to take a hard look at what makes a story endure. The future of major franchises depends on Hollywood’s willingness to listen to its audience and put respect for storytelling above the desire for instant success.
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