Rogue. Scoundrel. Nerf Herder(?). As long as you don’t call him scruffy-looking, Han Solo definitely qualifies for all of those titles and more. He’s also a smuggler, a pirate, and a troublemaker. But he’s also a loyal friend, a war hero, a leader, and one of the best pilots you’ll find anywhere in a galaxy far far away.
There have often been efforts to condense Star Wars down into a nice and tidy “_____’s story.” If you look at episodes four, five, and six, it’s easy to say that those movies comprise “Luke’s story.” But if you include the first three movies that make up the prequels along with the core original trilogy, you end up seeing it as “Anakin’s story.” Both of these may be technically accurate . . . from a certain point of view. Despite my personal feelings about the prequel (hoo-boy do I have some personal feelings about the prequels, like any Star Wars fan no doubt has), it was clear that If you add up episodes one through six, you get a nice and tidy story of redemption for Anakin Skywalker, along with a story of destiny fulfillment for Luke Skywalker.
But I tend to think of the original trilogy as Han’s story.
I didn’t always think this way. Like many, I’ve considered Luke to be the central hero of the original trilogy. From simple, dreaming farmboy to galactic hero, Luke feels like the centerpiece of the story. Even in redeeming his father, Luke is still the hero. Right?
Again, from a certain point of view, that’s not an inaccurate viewpoint. But let’s take an honest look at Luke. Tatooine-bound, working a meager moisture farm existence, Luke dreamed of great battles, adventure, heroic deeds, and a life beyond his life of sand sand and more sand. Luke was a good-hearted boy — prone to daydreaming, impatience, and stubbornness, but he was still a good person. And when the trilogy ended, Luke had grown, yes, and had found the action and adventure he had dreamed of.
But it was Han’s transformation that made the original Star Wars movies the compelling journey that they are. It was Han’s involvement that ushered the story along. Without Han, the rebellion would have failed, the galaxy would still have been under the thrall of Vader and the Emperor, and Luke very well may have died without ever learning his destiny. Han started out as a glorified space cab driver and became the heart of Star Wars.
Who was it who came screaming out of the sun to clear the field for Luke’s final run on the Death Star? Han.
Who was it who risked his own life — a life that this man heavily values — trotting out into the frozen Hoth wastelands to save his friend? Han.
Who was it who repeatedly ignored a dead-or-alive bounty on his head by one of the most ruthless gangsters in the galaxy to continue aiding his friends? Han.
Who was it who continued to put his life on the line for his friends, who risked blaster fire and explosions and hyperspeed chases and gigantic killer death machines and entire platoons of imperial forces, over and over, again and again? Who was this man who once valued money above all else, who was now one of the most reliable and trusted men that anybody could hope to know? Who stoically descended into a carbonite chamber, unafraid of what might be waiting for him because the woman he loved also loved him?
Han. Han. Han. Every time, it was Han.
Luke followed a certain path but remained essentially the same: a dreamer. The dreams changed, but Luke’s core did not. Leia remained a prickly and pragmatic tactician, softening a little but remaining the woman she had always been. But there’s no way that anybody could say that the Han at the end of Return of the Jedi rejoicing amidst Ewoks was the same Han we first met in a murky cantina.
Harrison Ford has been notoriously curmudgeonly about the role that made him a household name, and, admittedly, it’s with good reason. Star Wars is a singular achievement that has inspired a level of devotion in fans that can be a bit . . . dramatic, let’s say. For an actor who views each role as a job that ends once he walks off set, it’s probably a bit mind-boggling and tiring to continue to be asked about a role after almost four decades. While the idea of sequels have been bandied about for years, even when the prequels were in the process of being made, Harrison Ford has never wavered from his stance that Han Solo was, for him at least, done. This was, after all, a man who wanted Han to die in Return of the Jedi. This was a man who was through with a part.
But something changed. Something once believed to be an impossibility became not only possible, but inevitable. Sequels were green-lit, and cast members came aboard. But there was no way Harrison Ford would be Han again . . . until he was.
Like any Star Wars fan, I was hesitant upon hearing each bit of news. The prequels and their shadow loomed large over any Star Wars project, and it’s hard to get excited about something that could lead to disappointment again.
Then we started getting images. It looked like Star Wars. We get our first teaser trailer. It felt like Star Wars. But was it Star Wars?
Then another teaser hit. Some of the same footage, but this time something was different.
At the end of this new trailer, we hear a familiar growl, and then cut to a face we all recognize. It’s an older face that wears experience and adventures in its lines and creases openly.
“Chewie, we’re home.”
Evocative words, but words are just words. All you have to do is look at that trademarked smirk, and look at the twinkle in those eyes. This isn’t a man going through the motions for a paycheck. Somehow, Harrison Ford found the Han we’ve been waiting for, digging this character back up out of the graveyard of past parts that all actors keep, and dusted him off.
Another trailer showed up, this time with more footage, more words: “It’s true. All of it. The Dark Side. The Jedi. They’re real.”
You can see the emotion there. You can see the gravitas and also the actual wonder in his eyes. This wasn’t a weary actor sleepwalking through a role for a paycheck. This was an actor who had found something fresh in a character he had left behind decades ago. It was a single line backed by a goosebump-inducing quality that suddenly made everything seem larger and grander than it’s felt in a long time.
The original Star Wars trilogy has always had a famous “lived in” quality, with worn ships and technology, rusted parts that don’t work, dust and dirt. Harrison Ford looks to be giving us a Han that’s as lived-in as the world that surrounds him.
Everything changed with these trailers. A movie can have lightsabers and not be a Star Wars movie. A movie can have familiar names and faces and tropes, but still not feel like a Star Wars movie. With the way trailers can sell lies, it’s hard to gauge exactly what kind of movie we’re getting. And with an Internet wondering where Luke is in all of these trailers and making all kinds of guesses as to who’s related to whom, to me none of that matters. Whatever type of movie we get, whether complete success or another disappointment, I’m confident enough to say that right now, I’m excited.
Because Star Wars looks like it has its heart back.