The response to The Force Awakens brought, remarkably, a few areas of genuine consensus – with a small number of exceptions, Rey is generally beloved while Starkiller Base is usually derided. Other elements are divisive, but perhaps none more than the antagonist/anti-hero/Byronic dark prince/space Hitler/dudebro fanboy that is Kylo Ren.
Not merely in terms of popularity – depending on who you speak to, he’s either the best or the worst thing about the film – but also whether or not he is heading for (or deserves) redemption. Even the fundamentals of what exactly the character is, what he stands for, and how we are supposed to respond to him are the subject of a wide variety of viewpoints.
Kylo occupies an unusual space in a saga with clearly-defined characters – a postmodern figure in a world of archetypes.
Everything leading up to TFA made us believe that Kylo would occupy the same space in the drama as Darth Vader in the original trilogy. He was an ominous figure, his mask plastered over every poster, toy box and tote bag. He was to be the icon of the movie, Vader for a new generation.
Indeed, the beginning of the movie makes good on that promise. In the first ten minutes he murders an unarmed old man, coldly orders the execution of dozens of innocent villagers, and demonstrates chilling and hitherto unseen dark side powers as he effortlessly freezes both a blaster-bolt and our hero, Poe Dameron.
Soon enough, though, the contrasts begin. Unlike Vader, his anger is not focused and purposeful, it is immature. Not for Kylo the casual sarcasm of “be careful not to choke on your aspirations” – instead he smashes up a console with his lightsaber like a child throwing things around his bedroom. His walk is a stalk – jagged, awkward, a man bursting with rage and uncomfortable in his own skin.
Even when we begin to explore his motivations, something is off. He talks of wanting to “finish what [Vader] started”, and we have to imagine this means the destruction of the Jedi and the rebirth of the Empire. Yet where Vader’s tyranny came from a misplaced idealism – a belief that the Jedi had betrayed the Republic, and that order from above needed to be imposed for everyone’s benefit – Kylo just wants to live up to his grandfather’s “legacy”, whether by killing Jedi, ordering stormtroopers around or wearing a cool-looking mask.
But the First Order is not the Empire – this time it is the stormtroopers and superweapon that represent the insurgency, the destabilizing force, and it’s hard to imagine Vader agreeing with their tactics. The criticism that Kylo is a “Vader cosplayer” has some merit, because based on TFA, he’s drawn more to the iconography and the legend of Vader than to developing a vision for the galaxy.
The real surprise comes when the mask is removed, and we realize that Kylo actually has his own character arc in this film. He is tortured by the “call to the light,” that scrap of compassion inside him, and fearing that Snoke senses it, he makes it his mission to snuff it out, and fully embrace the dark side.
Beneath the Mask
Kylo’s first removal of his helmet is a disquieting moment. I remember reading reports of audible giggles from audiences because his appearance is so unexpected – though in his thirties, Adam Driver looks like an awkward teenage boy here, and his performance is closer to the Anakin of Attack of the Clones than it is to Vader.
This scene – the interrogation of Rey – has led to a wider variety of readings than any other scene in the film. As a contrast with the interrogation of Poe, some see in Kylo a fascination and connection with Rey, even flashes of compassion as he tells her not to be afraid and senses her loneliness – a compassion Snoke himself chides Kylo for in the novelization. Other viewers see him as predatory, manipulative and downright creepy – his delivery of the line “you know I can take whatever I want” has unsettling real-world connotations of male entitlement.
This dissonance between his actions, his line delivery and his appearance is at the heart of the different readings of the character. Visually he does indeed have the looks of a tortured, Byronic anti-hero, with his flowing black hair and his sad but intense eyes. His looks make it easy to romanticize him, to see him as a brooding character in the mold of a Severus Snape or a Heathcliff, or even as a victim to be saved, given the hints from Driver and JJ Abrams of a troubled childhood and an absence of parental love. This reading, though valid, risks minimizing the scale of the evil of a man prepared to order the massacre of civilians, as well as his responsibility for his own choices.
In one sense, Kylo’s evil is more unsettling than Vader’s. Vader believes he is doing the right thing, and that the ends justify the means – if people die, well, that’s the price that has to be paid for an ordered galaxy. Kylo, though, knows that what he is doing is wrong – he feels the call to the light, he is torn apart as he faces his father … and yet he murders him anyway. Compare the similar scenes where Padmé confronts Vader on Mustafar in Revenge of the Sith, and where Han confronts Kylo on Starkiller Base. The villains are pleaded with by their loved ones, asked to come back … but where Anakin talks with certainty, a manic gleam in his eye as he lays out his vision for a better galaxy, Kylo is tortured, lost, tearful. Yet he still commits the act, still murders his father, despite knowing it is wrong, all in an attempt to “snuff out the light.” Vader thinks what he’s doing is right, but Kylo wants to be evil, and hates the compassion that is making it so difficult for him.
Even at the end of the film, interpretations of Kylo vary wildly. Initially, the response from many was that Kylo’s arc was that he successfully killed the light within him, supported by Abrams’s comments that TFA is “an origin story for a villain” and the visual symbolism of the light dying as Kylo stabs his father. Yet Driver’s performance tells us he is more lost and broken than ever – something that has been backed up with the novelizations and published screenplay, the official databank and Driver’s comments about The Last Jedi (“patricide isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”)
This speaks to a more general issue with TFA: even the fundamentals of the main characters are left vague and uncertain. The character arcs make sense, but the movie is paced so quickly that you have to really look for them, because it doesn’t spend time developing them. Is this intentional, to give Rian Johnson and Colin Trevorrow more flexibility with the story going forward, or does it speak to a failure of storytelling on Abrams’s part? Fortunately, TFA just about gets by with it through the strength of its performances.
The Post-Modern Villain
So how is it that Kylo Ren can be all of these things, depending on your point of view? I’m reminded of the parable of the Elephant and the Blind Men: a group of blind men who have never encountered an elephant each touch a different part of it, and describe the whole in entirely different ways. They each believe that the others are lying about what they felt, and end up fighting over it. The moral is that we tend to project our partial experiences onto the whole, when we should be aware that we each see only part of the picture – an important lesson when thinking about any work of art.
In the case of Kylo, the issue arises from his bizarre place as a postmodern figure in what is fundamentally an old-fashioned story. Star Wars is a world of Jungian archetypes – the hero, the wise old man, the shadow – broadly following a story based on ancient mythology, following an old-fashioned value system built on friendship, compassion and serenity. It is not just this: there are many modern influences on Star Wars too, and all of the characters have something of the modern world about them. Kylo, though, is on a new level entirely.
Kylo is fully aware that he is in a Star Wars movie – he just sees the previous movies as we would view a myth or legend in our own culture. Such a character can only exist in TFA, because that film exists in the shadow of the original trilogy. He seeks to emulate the past. He wants to own the iconography of those movies – Vader’s helmet, the Skywalker lightsaber – because that is where he thinks he will draw his power. This knowledge of the text around him – and before him – is what makes him a postmodern figure, and it brings with it certain contemporary associations.
The Story Group’s Pablo Hidalgo has compared Kylo Ren to an “original trilogy purist” who hates the things that such fanboys hate – the Senate, the Jedi – and wants to make the Star Wars galaxy the way he thinks it should be, built on nostalgia. We can take this further: Kylo’s obsession with legacy reflects our own preoccupation with the lineages of Star Wars characters, where every new character has to be related to someone we know or they have no value to us.
Then there are the political connotations. Kylo is a privileged, young white man, full of entitlement and rage that he doesn’t have what he wants, revering fascistic movements of the past that he never had to personally live through, and battling a young woman, a black man and a Latino. It’s hard not to look at this and see echoes of the rise of neo-fascism and the “alt-right.” This is where the postmodernism sits uncomfortably with the old-fashioned mythology of Star Wars, because it complicates the debate about whether or not Kylo will be redeemed, or deserves to be.
Compassion is the most important message of the Star Wars saga: finding empathy for all, living selflessly, and through that achieving harmony. It’s most clearly seen in Luke’s love for his father and in Vader’s reciprocal sacrifice for his son, actions that ultimately save the entire galaxy. Redemption only comes about through compassion. Vader’s redemption, though, asks us to put aside the evil he has done and not dwell on it too much, because the story is more interested in the archetype, the value system and the message that compassion can redeem all.
With Kylo, things are more complicated. As a postmodern figure with so many unsettling cultural connotations, many are inclined to be more resistant to his redemption. Are we going to be asked to feel sympathy for a young fascist, to see him as a “lost boy” who just needs to be set back on the right path? In the current climate, that’s a hard sell. Kylo is real and relevant to us in a way that Vader wasn’t. Equally, though, Driver’s layered and vulnerable performance makes redemption seem more likely, and other fans root for him all the more – he was so close to coming back to the light at the end of TFA, and surely we want to see Leia’s son (if a reunion is no longer possible) choose to follow her legacy, and not Vader’s?
As we now know, it’s dangerous to predict what will happen in TLJ and Episode IX based on TFA, because there was no trilogy outline. Johnson and Trevorrow were not mandated that the story must do this or that – it will be based on their responses to TFA and its characters. Kylo’s future depends less on Abrams’s intent than it does on the way Johnson and Trevorrow have interpreted him, and as we have seen, that could be any number of things, depending on their point of view.
7 thoughts to “The Kylo Conundrum – or, the Elephant and the Blind Men”
Excellent article here!
Kylo is one of the most fascinating characters in the new movies, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that we know his lineage. We understand that he’s directly tied to Leia and Han, and the choices he makes are in stark contrast to his parents, and broadly parallel his grandfather. His current attitude makes us want to ask questions about how he was raised, what the state of the galaxy was that would make him trust Snoke/ want to join the First Order. With the other characters who are mysteries and largely seemed to have grown up with the same impressions of the galaxy the audience has, there’s less shading in their histories and more questions of who they really are because so far they’ve only really done generically heroic things. Kylo’s hugely influential, evil acts are much more starkly contrasted to his upbringing and bits and pieces of history we actually know about.
There’s a lot of parallels that can be drawn to him from the real world, Men’s Rights Activists, Neo-Nazi groups etc. I think there’s also some comparisons to Western people who go and join ISIS. They’ve grown up in probably comfortable positions outside of the ideology but are somehow drawn into a violent ideology and do some horrendous things for what seems like very little gain.
For me, Star Wars ends up being about compassion, and that’s despite the things a bad person has done, still considering them a person. Darth Vader is not innocent of the many crimes he committed, whether you look at him as Anakin or as Vader. But acknowledging that people can find a different path is what this story has been about up until now. Genuine contrition is rare, but it should be acknowledged as valuable when it’s there. I’m worried that too many fans are quick to call Kylo completely irredeemable after killing his father, but redemption takes many forms. Return of the Jedi kind of takes the easy way out by having Vader make the ultimate sacrifice to destroy his master and take down the Empire and by vastly downplaying his crimes (some of which had yet to be written in 1983, sure) give the audience a genuine father-son moment of redemption for a mass murderer.
What it comes down to for Kylo is, for all of these real world comparisons we make, what message do we send to these people who have done bad things that we totally disagree with if the fate of this character is he needs to be killed. Is it better to portray the situation as “as bad as it gets, there’s always a way out, you just need to admit you were wrong and commit to trying to right your wrongs”? Would we give some of the worst war criminals in history that deal? Does the sci-fi trappings of the movie alleviate some of this? If Kylo says that he got so lost in delusion that he did terrible things and he’s very sorry and he’ll serve time or serve the galaxy in recompense, should he be taken seriously? I feel like these are all interesting possibilities the movies could explore, and I think outright killing him is possibly the weakest one. If he sacrifices himself for the better of the galaxy, that’s a bit too close to Vader for me.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing what they do with him. Hope it’s nuanced and interesting!
Good article and good feedback from Eric.
The discrepancy in fan belief about whether Darth Vader and Kylo Ren are worthy of redemption shows some dissonance. Yes, Kylo killed our beloved Han Solo, his own father–but are his crimes really that much more extreme than Vader’s that he’s not worthy of redemption?
I’ll pull a quote from the infamous David Brin–
To put it in perspective, let’s imagine that the United States and its allies managed to capture Adolf Hitler at the end of the Second World War, putting him on trial for war crimes. The prosecution spends months listing all the horrors done at his behest. Then it is the turn of Hitler’s defense attorney, who rises and utters just one sentence:
“But, your honors … Adolf did save the life of his own son!”
Gasp! The prosecutors blanch in chagrin. “We didn’t know that! Of course all charges should be dismissed at once!”
The allies then throw a big parade for Hitler, down the avenues of Nuremberg.
It may sound silly, but that’s exactly the lesson taught by Return of the Jedi, wherein Darth Vader is forgiven all his sins, because he saved the life of his own son.
…When framed in this way, Vader’s redemption is absurd. Yet we know from watching Return of the Jedi (and how we FEEL while watching it) that it’s NOT absurd. Why? Because we’re dealing in two different types of stories.
Star Wars isn’t a sci-fi tale where where we wrestle in a real way with direct questions and issues. It’s mythic, it’s metaphoric, it’s a story about values. The question isn’t, “What does Kylo Ren deserve?”, it’s, “What values do we want to understand through the lens of Kylo Ren?”
I don’t know the answer to that second question yet (and I’ll note answering the second doesn’t preclude answering the first), but I do think “No one is beyond redemption” is a possible and appropriate answer.
The wrench in all this, as Mr. Eldridge so eloquently highlights, is that we’re dealing with “a postmodern figure in a world of archetypes.” I admit, that does complicate things and leave me less certain of where we’re going to go.
Some really good points here, and I agree with both of you about the redemption aspect. I think fans struggle with it for a few reasons – the murder of Han, a truly beloved character; the visceral nature of that murder, possibly the most tense and violent death sequence in the saga; and all the contemporary associations I mentioned in the article. Looking at their crimes objectively, you can’t really argue that Kylo’s are greater than Vader’s – it’s our perspective on them that makes them seem worse.
What it comes down to, I think, is that “redeemed” is probably the wrong word for what happened to Vader. I prefer to think of it that he was “saved” – it showed that it’s never to late to come back, and that acts of love and compassion can save the universe. The issue of actually repenting and “paying back” his sins isn’t something the story is interested in.
So Kylo’s “redemption” doesn’t have to be an absolute thing where he fully comes back, and we don’t necessarily have to see him paying back his debt to society (though that would be a fascinating story to tell). In the Star Wars moral universe, it’s enough that some act of compassion – either by Kylo himself, or in sparing Kylo’s life and believing in him – is enough to save the galaxy, whether he can ever become a true “good guy” or not.
I personally think we might see something along the lines of Asajj Ventress – Snoke turning against Kylo or trying to kill him, and Kylo trying to get revenge and find his place in the galaxy again in Episode IX. Something a little less morally absolute than Vader.
On the question of criminal extremity, I think there is a case that Kylo’s hands are actually bloodier than Vader’s, though the scale of both crimes probably makes the distinction less important. Both murdered close family members; both tortured prisoners for information; both killed numerous Jedi and Jedi-in-training. All of those crimes pail in comparison to the total destruction of habitable planets. In neither cases (Alderaan and Hosnian) was Vader nor Kylo was directly responsible for the destruction – specific operational responsibility for the weapons in question belonged to Tarkin and Hux, respectively – but both were willing conspirators in the construction and employment of such weapons. Insofar as Starkiller destroyed five planets to the Death Star’s one, it stands to reason that Kylo has many more deaths on his hands than Vader ever did. On the other hand, once you get past a billion deaths on your conscience, perhaps the actual number is an academic exercise.
On the issue of “redemption,” I agree with Ki-Aaron about the importance of Star Wars as an aspirational story, rather than a “realistic” one. Kylo is a fictional character; the purpose of the narrative is to establish not what he “deserves” (whatever that means), but rather what statement we want to make about violence and rehabilitation. Fictional portrayal of redemption is almost always profoundly counter-cultural (fans had these debates back in 1983, too!). I hope that Star Wars goes for the more challenging narrative and seeks some sort of reconciliation between heroes and villains.
On the other hand, that route is fraught with difficulties, and Star Wars has not always done a good job portraying genuine reconciliation. This sort of story is especially difficult to tell in an episodic narrative, without sufficient central direction, since genuine character change and repentance takes time. The original post reminds me of some of the issues surrounding Kyp Durron in the Jedi Academy Trilogy – an excellent example of how *not* to handle a “redemptive” storyline. Although I appreciate the desire to rehabilitate Durron rather than execute him (as some have argued he deserved), there was no follow-up, nor any growth for that character – within a few years, he was starring in NJO novels in which he seemed to have learned nothing, and his destructive past was almost never mentioned.
All of which is to say, a redemptive arc for Kylo might be desirable, but it would also be very difficult to pull off. Kylo dying in a blaze of glory (a la Vader) would be criticized (not without some merit) as too derivative – ideally, the new trilogy would explore new narrative space, rather than continuously regurgitating material from the previous trilogy. As others have noted, however, Kylo *living* would be an incredibly difficult story to pull off effectively. The narrative of least resistance is definitely one in which he is simply a bad guy who the good guys stomp. I hope that Star Wars tries to do something more interesting than this!
Vader doesn’t just save his son. He also destroys the most powerful and evil man in the Galaxy, he ends the horror that no one else could. That, combined with the fact that he did it to save his son is what makes him worthy of redemption.
That he did it to save his son makes him less worthy I think—it’s still a selfish act. Wanting to save Padmé is what turned him dark in the first place, after all.
The way I see it, the difference is that he wanted to save Padme to keep her in his life, and was prepared to sacrifice other people for that; with Luke, he was willing to sacrifice his own life to save him, which is what made it a selfless act.
But that does require that he was aware that killing the Emperor would probably also kill him, and the film doesn’t (or can’t?) make that really clear. And I think saving the galaxy isn’t what’s on his mind there – that’s just a consequence of his act of saving his son.
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