I started reading this thread with
Final Fantasy VII, and then went back after it finished to read all the others before following onto
Final Fantasy VIII. That was partly because there were a fair number of references to older games in the FFVII playthrough that I had only hazy or second-hand knowledge of, and wanted to be fully refreshed on. It's also partly because FFVIII is the only Final Fantasy game I both played and have genuinely negative memories of, so I wanted to be (re)approaching it from a place of knowledge.
As a consequence, I've not been posting here at all, because Live Reaction: Some Shit Omi Said Years Ago is a weird message to bottle and fling into the inexorable river of time, opened by readers native to the distant future of the thread. However, I'm now caught up and ready to move on to Triple Triad and the weird storymode they attached to it.
This culminated in reading the
Advent Children review, a movie I have been a dedicated hater for ever since actually experiencing it through a medium other than Linkin Park AMVs watched on loop in my school's IT room because I didn't have an iPod. All this to say that this entire pre-amble is to explain why I'm suddenly slipping in with an ice-cold take from the start of the year.
@Omicron mentioned
The Rise of Skywalker at the end of the review, and I'm glad you did, because it made a connection that I'm not sure I ever consciously did before, or at least not to the same extent.
Advent Children is just the
Star Wars sequel trilogy.
We know we can't live up to Darth Vader/Sephiroth... but we know fans
want Darth Vader/Sephiroth, so we'll introduce a cheap copy of Darth Vader/Sephiroth to act as the antagonist. It's fine, though, it's
intentional, it's a statement, because he knows he's just a knock-off and he's actually mad about it! That's clever commentary, almost. Also he'll obsess over the head of the previous antagonist, which survived for some reason, to draw the connection as explicitly as possible.
We know that the Empire/Shinra was absolutely destroyed and the Rebellion/Planet was ready to establish a new democracy/way of life... but we know that fans recognise the Empire/Shinra. They recognise Stormtroopers/Turks, and an Emperor/President, and Star Destroyers/Midgar. We can't
not have these things, so they just survived, or came back, with no clear explanation for why our protagonists would have let them do so. They needed to, because otherwise we wouldn't have those familiar, comforting visual beats.
We know that Han Solo and Leia/Tifa and Cloud had a big character arc which left them in a very different place from where they started out and functionally ended the will-they-won't-they stage of their relationship... but we know fans remember these characters for their earliest iconic scenes and as broad archetypes or time-blurred memes. Leia/Tifa needs to go back to running an underdog rebellion/Midgar bar, and Han Solo needs to go back to wandering around as a rogue smuggler/brooding mercenary loner, no matter how this makes them look like they just collapsed into a mid-life crisis once the credits rolled and never clawed their way out.
Messages, themes, and defining events established by previous stories suddenly invert, or lose all narrative weight and traction, suspended like a fly in oil. The path trod by these characters - and their audience - is now a treadmill, offering only the illusion of movement, progression, and achievement. Nothing can ever really change. Nothing can ever really be accomplished. No-one's ever really gone.
You will always come back to Aerith's goddamn flower garden - to a desert world where a young orphan receives an unintended message carried by a droid. Not because the church or desert worlds are themselves of cosmic importance, but because you remember them. Look! Luke's old lightsaber! Look! Sephiroth's one wing! Look! A shiny set of keys! Jangle jangle jangle.
The key ways that the sequel trilogy and
Advent Children deviate from each other - aside from the much greater scope of the former, absolutely outstripping the degree of preparation afforded it - are rooted in the fact that the latter is dredging up a video game property, with wholly animated actors. It can afford to do nothing but wallow in its fanservice and establish that these oil fields are now very much ripe for drilling, over and over, both literally and figuratively. It can also afford to set itself two years after the game, instead of reflecting the real-life passage of eight years (or 12 years for
Complete), further reducing the sting of stasis.*
Star Wars Episode VII-IX, on the other hand, is trying to open up those same veins of revived profitability for a live action property, whose actors have aged. No amount of digital corpse-puppetry will get around the need for a new lead cast that can accept the torch passed by the previous generation - which forces it to juggle competing impulses. Everything has to be the same as you vaguely remember, because fans love these old characters and places, but also these old characters need to die, figuratively or literally, for their successors to thrive and establish a future for the franchise - and since we've had to walk back all their victories and growth in order to keep things the same, your Old Favourites are all observably total failures who achieved nothing and need these new characters to succeed where they retroactively didn't. At least, until the well needs tapping again.
Imagine a version of
Advent Children where Cloud's actor was too old, so the entire story was focused on New Hero Denzel seeking out Cloud Strife, who has been living as a depressed hermit for years, in order to overthrow a fully resurgent Neo-Shinra, led by President Rufus' clone and Kadaj. Then Cloud disappears into the Lifestream after half a fight with Kadaj, giving Denzel the chance to fight and
really defeat Sephiroth.
No matter how well you write and direct and animate that story, it will provoke abject fury from the specific audience you've built it around pulling back in. I have no doubt that a lot of the people infuriated by the sequel trilogy would gesture at
Advent Children as the way to do it "right", despite how similar they are in fundamentals. The movie gets away with so much shit that nakedly undermines the original story just because it can afford to do a
pure fanservice rehash, instead of serving two masters.
*
I will acknowledge for the sake of completeness that Episode VIII tried to do something distinct from a retread with both Luke and the Emperor stand-in, but a) that leash was firmly yanked before the film even ended, b) it's not hugely relevant to the overall point, c) ain't a Nobel Prize for trying.