Eye on Canon Archive: “Great, Kid, Now Don’t Get Cocky!”: Solo: a Star Wars Story and Masculinity

From July 2018

The following post is an in-depth discussion of the film Solo: A Star Wars Story, and as such contains plot spoilers from throughout the film.

As the father of a rambunctious 3-year-old boy, I have found myself thinking more and more about masculinity and how I can help him learn and understand its various dynamics within our society. Given the current age of inclusive heroes, I find myself starting this process by first diversifying the media and toys he consumes to include as wide a range as possible, and not a collection that relies solely on white male cisgender macho men. But, it’s impossible to ignore that he is, like me, a middle-class white male who will experience his life through the veil of privilege that will give ease to his actions and could easily lead to him presuming himself to be superior or in some way dominant in society. As his guardian, and one half of the team trying to help him negotiate the pitfalls of modern gender, I too need to be reexamining my assumptions and interrogating where negative gender roles come from and how I can help him make informed and sensitive decisions about his own masculinity or whatever identity he eventually will choose for himself.

To that end, and with the pain of a life-long Star Wars fan, I’m not sure that I will show him the latest entry in the saga, Solo: A Star Wars Story. The film, focused on the perennially cynical rogue, coasts largely on the charm of the titular character (played with swagger by Alden Ehrenreich). Yet, in doing so, it presents a case study on how privilege and entitlement are exercised to diminish and belittle non-white and non-male characters. In the world of Solo, everyone, and I truly mean everyone, is stuck in the orbit of the arrogant and brash young pilot to the detriment of their fortunes and fates, and quite frequently their lives. Beyond this, by virtue of who that character is and his history in this franchise, it goes unquestioned that his decision are right; the film is rightly sympathetic to his actions and general demeanor, which at its most extreme feels like an endorsement of the white male savior mentality that has afflicted our culture for far too long. The film is a prequel to the 1977 Star Wars: A New Hope in every way, but I worry about how fast we endorse regressive worldviews as a part of the fun of the film.

On to the necessary caveats: As I wrote previously, The Last Jedi did hugely important work in reforming the tropes of male heroism that had reigned unquestioned in this (and really all) franchises for a generation or two. As that film has aged, and the backlash to it increased, I would only say I have found that position more and more accurate. Though I may have overstated the death of the Fan Bro, I think the continually vocal group of critics (some who want to remake the film) demonstrates how deeply ingrained these regressive values of masculinity are in fandom. I continue to believe that the Poe/Holdo plot line is one of the most significant risks and important messages of the film and the modern age of Star Wars has given us. I think that the appreciation for this film will only grow in the years to come.

Thus, it is absolutely heartbreaking that the next film in the franchise would so drastically reverse that message/theme in the presentation of a main character, and one of the biggest legacy characters at that. To read the Poe plot alongside Solo is to see two competing visions of what heroism is: one nuanced and collaborative, and the other self-serving and unfeeling. Whereas Last Jedi wanted its audience to interrogate big ideas and reevaluate long-held values, Solo seems to say “sorry about that, let’s just have some fun!” To be sure, there is no reason why films within the franchise need to share thematic ties, as a cinematic universe, as Marvel has demonstrated, needs to only share a setting/characters. Beyond that, Star Wars may be the place for pure escapism, and certainly fun is the value most viewers seek, but I think the discordant messages clash particularly strongly here, in the two films of the saga with the shortest window between releases.

“I’m gonna be a pilot. Best in the galaxy.”

For starters, let’s set our definitions clearly in order to both dissuade and enflame angry commenters. In our modern crisis of male identity, the most common descriptor for objectionable behaviors associated with male behavior is “toxic masculinity,” a term I feel is sometimes misapplied, but much more frequently misunderstood. In this misunderstanding, the term is expanded to be a representation of all male behavior, or like some fundamental part of being a man. In the cult of misogyny, the term gets misread as an attack on anything manly or even behaviors seen as physically dominant. Thus, men’s rights advocates can write off all such critiques of masculinity as an attack on identity, or as virtue-signaling by men who express their own gender identity without the alpha-attitude.

To be against toxic masculinity, is in no way to be anti-male. In fact, in a proper understanding of toxic masculinity, many men can be seen as victims of a society which has socialized them with the value that they need to be dominant in all aspects of life. This is what the phrase rightfully calls into question: not the gender, but a specific type of gender expression that asserts masculinity as being innately stronger or better than other genders. In other words, the assertion that to be a leader or a “real man” you have to express only toughness or domination. When this is then mixed with white privilege, the toxicity increases tenfold to assert that the most privileged group in modern society is rightfully dominant and should be deferred to by everyone outside of that group.

To the best of my understanding, toxic masculinity exists with two significant dynamics. The first, as noted, is the more familiar dynamic of men asserting themselves and their will over all others, forcing those others to be submissive or to be somehow labelled as other (see perennial favorites “bitchy” and “uppity”). The second dynamic of the toxicity, which is more overlooked, is the inward toxicity that pushes men away from the healthy expression of emotion out of fear of being labelled as un-masculine (feminine, wussy, or a variety of other slurs). In this way, men are acculturated (in the multiplex, the living room, the internet, and the playground) to see only the expression of toughness and domination as the role of men. Empathy, compassion, and caring are weaknesses in the drive to prove onself as dominant. The final stage of this acculturation is the training of generations of men, through action film and romantic comedy alike, that they deserve whatever sexual partner they desire, and that the world will come to see them as heroic, if they can prove it through force.

As I think about my son and the type of man I want him to grow into, it is these two dynamics that worry me most. The second, inward, dynamic in no way excuses or accepts the behavior of the first, outward dynamic, but like a double edged sword, it inflicts injury in both directions, preventing men from being their natural selves and forcing them toward bigotry and misogyny. What then, are we to do with Han Solo?

“He is arrogant…”

From the beginning, we are presented the story of young Han Solo[1] as that of an orphan with big dreams for a better life, a familiar and sympathetic archetype.  The opening non-crawl presents his situation directly, stating that “on these mean streets, a young man fights for survival, but yearns to fly among the stars.” While the picture of those “mean streets” is not entirely developed, it’s clear that Han is entrapped as an underling for Lady Proxima’s White Worms crime gang. The situation is instantly sympathetic, as the dark and dreary underworld is oppressive, and Han faces abuse and threats for not fulfilling his duties.

The sympathetic tone of big dreams is perhaps the most defining trait of young Han, as so many of his actions are presented as him taking steps towards those dreams, and the sympathies of the film are with him. As has been rightly noted, these aspirations have much to do with class, and Solo might be the first Star Wars film to really engage with the lower class of the galaxy far far away. Yet, to consider the character as presented, there’s not much indication as to where these goals came from. From his opening lines, it’s clear that Han already has the bravado and confidence of someone of much higher station, and his drive to reach “the stars” is predetermined, at least to him. Certainly it would be unfair to criticize the character for having such goals, but very quickly the pursuit of the goals becomes a liability for other characters.

Han’s bid for freedom comes from the theft of a quantity of coaxium, a valuable hyperfuel[2], from a botched exchange with a rival gang that he plans to use to buy transit off planet for him and his girlfriend Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke). His first action (well, second to a lusty kiss) upon seeing Qi’ra is to explain the plan to her and give her the coaxium, immediately placing her at risk, a fact used to heighten the tension of the confrontation with Lady Proxima. Surely, Qi’ra has as much to gain from freedom as Han, and should justifiably take on as much risk as him in the pursuit of it. But it’s made quite clear that Qi’ra had no hand in planning this scheme, nor does she get to choose her own participation in it. The events are thrust upon her, giving her no agency in getting to choose her own actions. To Han, she is an accessory to his dreams, and while there is undoubtedly genuine affection there, the tone of the interaction much more suggests hormonal young love than genuine empathetic connection.

Thus begins the central dynamic of the film where, despite being smarter, more calculating, and more clear minded, Qi’ra will continually take a back seat to the domination of Han’s ego. While she is a willing participant in the chase that follows, whenever she expresses doubt in Han, or voices an appeal towards a different course of action, her voice is drowned out by the roar of an engine or a quip spoken through a lopsided grin. This comes to the forefront at two moments in the chase: First, Han chooses to attempt a risky maneuver tilting his speeder through a too-narrow passage in an attempt to outrun a larger pursuer. The maneuver, a complete failure, loses the pair their speeder, and results in canine (-ish) beats being unleashed on their trail. Secondly, when attempting to negotiate a bribe of the hyperfuel for passage out of the restricted zone, Qi’ra demonstrates underworld savvy in demanding the imperial official open the gate before she hands over the bribe. Here, the corrupt officer even acknowledges how clever she is while Han pushes her to get on with it to get them through.

In each of these cases, we see Qi’ra express intelligence that far surpasses that of Han, and yet in each case, the film throws its sympathies behind Han and, tacitly, his dismissal of the good advice in favor of bold heroics. As ancillary materials have already shown[3] even at this young age, Qi’ra already has a better mind for politics and survival among the underworld of the galaxy, and yet by going along with Han’s schemes, she ultimately loses her bid for freedom and becomes entrenched in the White Worms, and later Crimson Dawn seemingly for eternity.

The question, in interrogating Han’s masculinity at this moment, would be what he actually thinks of Qi’ra. The most generous reading would be that he loves her deeply and is fighting to provide her with a better life as a function of that love. There’s nobility in that, and certainly the rest of the film shows his devotion to Qi’ra that might support this[4]. Yet the least generous reading of this would be to note that teenage love is often entangled in lust, and that he just wants to be sure his sexual partner is with him. To be certain, the actual nature of the relationship is likely somewhere in between, but the continual undercutting of her expertise, and the aforementioned lusty smooch, make her feel somewhat closer to sex object.

Yet, it’s hard to dislike Han here. He feels like a character driven by confidence and a genuine investment in Qi’ra’s fate. She is a part of his dream to fly among the stars, and he will make the choice to join the imperial navy in an attempt to rescue her from Corellia. However, as the film evolves, we realize that Han’s desires no longer represent Qi’ra’s wishes, and how little that matters to Han.

“Let’s drink two and see where it goes…”

When Qi’ra returns to the film some time later, it is quickly apparent how deeply Han has misread Qi’ra and how far beyond Han Qi’ra has grown. The reunion scene aboard Dryden Vos’s luxury yacht comes as a surprise to both Han and the audience, as Qi’ra has clearly not spent the intervening three years as a damsel locked in a tower, but has risen through the ranks of the underworld to now be a top lieutenant for Crimson Dawn, a powerful crime syndicate. While Han returns quickly to the savior narrative he has imposed upon their story, it is swiftly and completely punctured by Qi’ra. While details are left hazy, it seems that despite some suffering, she has been able to make choices for herself and is satisfied with her station. She immediately asserts that she no long needs Han’s rescue, and while she expresses affection at seeing him again, she sees no path forward for their relationship. Viewed in isolation, the message is clear: I am happy, I don’t need you.

Han’s response to the clear message is a quick dismissal. How could the fantasy he had built on her memory be false? She must still be in love with him, and she must still seek that life together. His refusal to abandon the narrative that places him and his needs as central demonstrates the imposition of that will on all others around him. Even more problematically, his response is a joke to suggest that she will see his way after some drinking: “What should we drink to?” Qi’ra asks, and Han quips in reply “Let’s drink two and see where it goes…” It’s a good line. It’s a funny joke. But, the underlying value is clear: if the woman you want isn’t interested, get her tipsy and then she’ll change her mind. You’re a man after all, how could she not want you?

Of course I’m taking a funny moment and placing the darkest interpretation on it, but this is not an isolated joke within an isolated film. This is a part of a culture soaked in toxic masculinity that socializes young boys to become men who will act in such ways, and teaches them to expect that they will get the partner they want, as long as they are charming enough and want them badly enough.

This scene is followed immediately by a confrontation between Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany) and Beckett (Woody Harrelson) over the botched train job that the audience witnesses moments before. The negotiation is highly tense, as Dryden is an assertive villain, and Beckett is seemingly out of options. Within this context, the film again inserts Han and reshapes the narrative as a function of his will. In this room, Han is an underling, a hired gun used by Beckett on a failed job. Yet, as he arrogantly commandeers the discussion, the whole group is drawn into his long-shot scheme to complete the Kessel run and make good on the money owed to Dryden. At a pivotal moment, Han makes an incredibly corny joke about his own abilities, but where that would be laughed off in real life[5], here it is seen as endearing and as the perfect guarantee that the plan will be met with success.

Because all of these interactions are cast through Han’s charisma, and Alden Ehrenreich’s extremely likeable swagger, the tacit message is that these actions are not only correct, but admirable. In the galaxy of Solo, Han’s actions are seen as right, and the best way to ensure he meets his goals. But at what cost? Dryden agrees to the long-shot plan, but insists that they take Qi’ra along[6], which places all that she has built up in prestige and position over the last three years at risk. Though it’s not entirely clear, some intercut reaction shots suggest Qi’ra is afraid of these risks, or at very least unsure if she’ll recover. From the position of an outside observer, it’s clear she has the most to lose, and that there’s no for her to go along with the scheme. But it’s not up to her, and she is drawn along.

“There is No Us”

The problematic dynamic between Han and Qi’ra reaches a crescendo in a private moment after the Kessel Run is underway. In the privacy of Lando’s cape closet, Han again confronts Qi’ra to try to win her over and plan a future for them. After overcoming the surprise of being caught trying on Lando’s cape, she remains focused on the business at hand and successfully completing the run, asking Han directly “what’s the plan?” Han delivers a confident “I thought we could talk a bit and then…” with a suggestive eye toward Lando’s bed. Like the line on the yacht about drinks, it’s delivered with charisma and confidence, but again Qi’ra is reduced from thoughtful knowledgeable partner into a sex object. Whether there is real love there or not, Han again directs the relationship more towards the physical.

Yet most egregiously, a few lines later, Qi’ra again patiently asserts that she is not interested in Han romantically, and that there is no future in which they are a couple. In doing so, she attempts to steer the conversation back to the mission, only to have the attempt rebuked and her own objections countermanded with a kiss. Han has no interest in her wishes, but knows that what she really wants is him.

Again this reading is the least generous, as it’s hard to say that once the kiss is initiated Qi’ra is not interested in its continuation. However, it’s another example of her only being of utility as a sexual partner. Han has no interest in her expertise, skills, or even personality. The most generous reading would be that he rightly senses she is really in love with him, and so he is right to keep pressing his affections on her (literally) and that he knows what she really wants. This compounds the problematic relationship dynamics of the yacht scene and reinforces the idea that a man can take whatever woman he wants. Clothed in Han’s swagger, this defines masculinity as a man who takes what he wants, and the film rewards that attitude by having the gambit work.

“Believe me, it’s mutual”

Thus, the central dynamic of Han’s character is the ability to take what he wants with little concern for how others feel about it. This is privilege: the belief you deserve what you want just by virtue of being yourself, and the film continually fulfills Han’s wishes. While this is grossly sexualized with Qi’ra, it also forms the central dynamic of Han’s relationship with Lando.

The greatest love affair of the film, perhaps in all of Star Wars, is of course the love between Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon. As the audience witnesses the meet cute of this iconic couple, there’s a swell of classic music that gives the meeting the weight and ceremony it deserves. While Han had guessed moments before that Lando might not even have a ship, he is left quiet and essentially slack-jawed as the Falcon comes into view and he falls for it, head over heels. From that moment forward, great reverence is given for that relationship, and the audience is meant to understand that these two are fated to be together, a pairing that of course is solidified by 40 years of Star Wars that has pre-sanctified the coupling.

Yet somehow lost in this reverie is the very concrete fact that the ship does not belong to Han, but is the property of Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover). In the scenes that follow during the Kessel run, we see Lando’s ownership of the Falcon continually undercut, as if the ship is not rightly his. Despite being a loving owner who has maintained the ship beautifully, we are meant to believe that he is not the rightful owner. The presumption of Han’s desire is baked into the film, yet when viewed through racial dynamics is hugely problematic: whatever a Black man possesses is only his until a white man wants it. How many black men across American history have lost land, property, wives and family due to this same dynamic? Even in a galaxy far far away, this is America[7]

In a key moment during the Kessel Run, Lando is injured and unable to fly the ship as they flee danger. As he nods his consent to Han, the music swells and Han makes a heroic leap into the pilot seat, pausing, despite the imminent danger, to bask in the moment. He then takes off and begins the iconic Kessel Run that he will brag about until his dying day (literally). The film’s message is clear: this is how it should be, don’t question it.

Once Lando recovers and comes to the cockpit, no effort is made to turn over command of the ship to its rightful Captain, and while the injury might still justify his taking a (literal) back seat, Lando directly asserts that they need to dump the shipment and abandon the run. As the Captain and owner of the ship, it is surely his right to say so and his prerogative to demand it. Yet, Han ignores Lando’s wishes and undertakes an extremely dangerous course, getting the ship severely damaged in the process. Just as Han had the right to abandon the train heist, he again wields the authority here, and despite all logic, every member of the crew bends over backward to pursue that course. Han’s authority is absolute.

In the penultimate scene between the two men, Lando stands surveying what had been his lovingly maintained ship now collapsed and almost unrecognizable on a Savareen landing pad. In an inversion of another iconic moment, Lando gets a just and rightful “I hate you,” out to Han, who responds with an “I know,” and continues to praise the ship. Han has no interest in the effect his actions have had on Lando, and the film makes no real consequence of them. Lando exits the scene angrily to sulk aboard the ship until his cut is ready, and Han continues his pursuit of Qi’ra, not at all affected by the way he has harmed Lando.

The best counterargument to this reading, of course, returns to the initial sabacc game when Han and Lando bet on the ship. Were it not for his own cheating, Lando would have lost the Falcon in that game, so the argument could be made that Han is the actual rightful owner of the ship from that point forward. This seems to be the perspective of the film itself, which is again aided by the fact we know that it will belong to him by the time of A New Hope. Han is immediately convinced that Lando cheated (a mix of confidence and card counting). In the film’s final scene, Han will correct this injustice by tracking down Lando, removing Lando’s hidden card up his sleev,e and winning the Falcon “Fair and square.” The effect is clear: Lando is deceitful and scheming and Han is virtuous and right.

This result would seem like justice, were it not for one clear fact: Before Lando fraudulently used his card up his sleeve, Han lied about his own ship, offering it as his bet in the hand itself, meaning he had no right to be in the hand at all, and no claim to the Falcon.  In other words, Han cheated first.

“I may be the only one who knows who you really are.”

Finally, I don’t want this reading of Solo and masculinity to come across as a condemnation of some monstrous man. That’s not who Han is, and it’s not who the movie thinks he is. Like so many men in our society, he has been acculturated to perform this role in this fashion, but, as the standoff on Savareen demonstrates, this may not be where his real sympathies lie.

In a quiet scene between Qi’ra and Han before the standoff, Han again asserts that now, having successfully completed the Kessel Run, the two of them can run off together and be free, fulfilling the dream of the first act. As with every other iteration of this conversation, Qi’ra asserts that this is not possible and not her desire, but Han, still guided only by what he wants, ignores her comments. Han, now seeing himself as a master of the underworld is still miles behind Qi’ra, yet asserts his own abilities and his newfound status as a gangster and outlaw.

Qi’ra’s perfect response punctures this dream directly: “I may be the only one who knows what you really are: a good guy.” Han’s response demonstrates that this is a cutting remark. While Qi’ra sees goodness and empathy in him, this is a flaw, and he has to assert his toughness, confidence, and bravado in order to be a real man. By inverting Han’s own much later pledge to Princess Leia[8], and preshadowing Han’s own key choice in A New Hope, the film shows that this is the correct reading of him, but that doesn’t mean Han accepts it.

This is the second blade on toxic masculinity: A nice man, a good guy, forced into toxic behaviors by a culture that places all of its value on brashness, egotism, and virility. He may be a good guy, he may truly value Qi’ra, LAndo, and Chewie, but he chooses to never perform this side of his character, making his toxicity plain.

Through a convoluted set of double- and triple-crosses, Qi’ra’s view of Han is ultimately proved correct. And Enfys Nest, another strong female interlocutor, sees the same spark of goodness in him, inviting him to join the nascent Rebellion and be a leader. But, with a wink and a shake of his head, Han declines, choosing instead the path of the outlaw. Whereas Last Jedi showed us the brash pilot finding truth and enlightenment, Solo reminds us that it is more fun to stay the rogue.

“ I have a great feeling about this”

In the end, I’m left feeling, more than all else, like Solo offers a return to a simpler Hollywood form of heroism. By soaking the film, and the character, in such delight and fun, it makes it easy for audiences to revel in an uncomplicated form of life. Wouldn’t we all like to act out our dreams with no concerns for others? Don’t we all wish that those same dreams were preordained for us? Of course. It’s an exercise in wish fulfillment, and it’s plain escapist popcorn fun.

This may be why I skip this one with my son. In an age of MAGA and MRA, this feels like an endorsement of a dangerous type of masculinity that I don’t want to be a part of his understanding of gender. Giving him this fantasy view plants the seed that it’s a world that is possible, or a world he only has to want hard enough to make happen. I don’t want this to be how my son engages others, or how he expresses his gender.

That to me is the real problem: Han Solo is not a monster, he is the coolest[9] man in the galaxy. It’s impossible not to watch this film and want to be him. He gets the best jokes, he gets his wishes, and he even gets to shoot first. It’s compelling and it’s perfect, which makes it the most dangerous form of toxic masculinity I can imagine.

Postscript: “Buckle up, baby.”

Forget about Darth Maul. Want the real twist in Solo? Lando Calrissian is a feminist.

In order to consider this, you have to first play Disney Executive and destroy your old views of Lando (or at least label them Legends). The character had a…prodigious…history of being a womanizer and ladies’ man with myriad species. But, while there may be some truth in legends, let’s only consider the Lando of the new canon.

In all the ways the Han acts throughout the film to reduce and undercut the women in his life, Lando does the opposite, often affirming and defending the knowledge, agency, and personhood of the women around him. Look no further than how he treats Qi’ra and his copilot L3-37 (Phoebe Waller-Bridge).

When Lando enters the film and first encounters Qi’ra, he greets her with a compliment on her appearance, oozing charm and charisma, but then instantly moves on to discussing business: Crimson Dawn, past dealings, and current opportunities. It’s clear from the dialog of both characters that fashion is a shared interest, so the initial compliment may be either about clothing or her beauty, either of which seems permissible, as this is not the only facet of her character he notes. Even in just a couple interactions, Lando treats Qi’ra like an equal and respected professional, placing her station above Han’s, as it should rightly be. When Han interrupts this conversation, Lando’s response is clear: “Hush now, grown-ups are talking.”

This relationship is again demonstrated when, during the Kessel Run, the two work together to upload L3’s navicomputer into the Falcon’s memory. They talk through the steps, and then Qi’ra works to take the actions (perhaps in part due to Lando’s injury). While Lando dictates instructions to her, when Qi’ra replies “Yeah, I know,” he quiets instantly, trusting her and her skills to do the work.

More strongly, Solo gives Star Wars audiences a fully self-realized droid character for the first time: L3-37. The droid, Lando’s trusty copilot, asserts herself[10] at every opportunity, and Lando, though often annoyed, respects her choices. The two are equals onboard the ship, and dialog makes it clear that Lando can’t order her around. It’s a partnership in the most general sense: two equals bringing their skills to mutual benefit.

In one particularly silly moment, L3-37 prepares to break into a secure facility, and asks the assembled group of characters to “Look away. I can’t perform with you looking at me.” It’s odd, and I’m still not sure I entirely get the gag. Yet, despite how awkward it is, Lando gets his partner’s back, echoing the request and asking the others to “Please indulge her.”

In perhaps the scene of greatest emotion in the film, Lando risks life and limb to rescue L3 during the shootout on Kessel, and as she lay dying in his arms, Lando cradles and comforts her, apologizing for his failure to save her. This is a man full of real empathy and genuine affection[11].

The truth then, is that Lando’s the real man of the film. He is masculine. He is confident. He is sexual. But all of those behaviors are expressed in a form that is respectful of others, and that treats all women as equals. There’s a tantalizing hint that Lando may have learned all of this from his mother, who, he asserts, was “the greatest woman I have ever known.” Now that sounds like a…prodigious…story.

[1] Needless to say, the majority of my comments here are shaped by the dual dynamic inherent in prequels: we know this character now, but really have associations with him that color everything we know. For the sake of simplicity, I am attempting to engage the character on the terms of this film, without basing impressions on the knowledge we have of his future, with a couple noted exceptions.

[2] A cynical writer might point out that the same Fan Bros who angrily dismissed Last Jedi for having a plot focused around the Resistance fleet running out of fuel have no trouble embracing hyperfuel in the contexts of Solo. So I shall.

[3] Primarily a young adult novel, Most Wanted by Rae Carson

[4] Yet here, we all know that love is fated to fail, as a certain Princess is waiting in the wings.

[5] Sure, let’s pretend there’s a real world equivalent.

[6] This remains the largest plot hole, in my opinion. Dryden agrees to the plan in part because no one will associate Han or Beckett with Crimson Dawn, but then quickly agrees to send along his very recognizable top lieutenant.

[7] Sorry.

[8] “I like nice men.” “I’m a nice man.”

[9] Well, second coolest.

[10] I’m gendering the droid female primarily due to the gender of the performer, Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Though droids don’t usually have gender, this appears to be the practice in Star Wars analysis.

[11] Naysayers will note that there is a moment earlier in the film when L3’s dialog may imply that she and Lando have slept together. If we are to view droids as servants or slaves, this then would eviscerate the case of Lando’s enlightened masculinity. However, I read the line more as L3 asserting that a relationship (nonsexual) could work between the characters, not that a sexual relationship has been attempted. IF that is incorrect and the pair have gotten physical, I still think it’s fair to say that such relations would have been consensual, given their other interactions.