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Well, Luke sees his friends. And things don't look good. We already knew from Boba Fett's pursuit at the end of the last scene that something ominous is coming for our heroes on the Falcon. But we get details here from Luke's vision before they show up in the timeline. A city in the clouds...Han and Leia in pain. When Yoda confirms that he has seen the future, Luke asks in true anguish, Will they die?

"Hmmm. Difficult to see. Always in motion, the future."

This is a crucible for Luke. We see its mirror image with Anakin's struggle in the prequels. If you could envision some awful future for your loved ones, wouldn't you do anything to prevent it? But just how reliable are those visions? Are they inevitable, or do they shift and change according to various choices? The future is always in motion. It is not immutable. How that plays out for the visions, we can only guess.

Story dynamics always get a little sticky when you bring in the component of being able to see the future. Did Anakin's vision of Padmé's death actually cause her death? How does free will come into play? The films offer no definitive answers, which leaves plenty of room for personal interpretations of these thorny issues. It's a marvelous philosophical tangle. Narratively speaking, it provides a situation that sets our hero between two excruciating choices -- try to change the future and risk abandoning the cause he has sworn to uphold, or follow his duty and leave his loved ones to potential doom. Save them, or destroy all for which they have fought and suffered? Luke is left with this conundrum while we get a first glimpse of that city in the clouds.

Next, a meeting with that city's debonair administrator....

After a delightful reveal of the Millennium Falcon's clever hiding spot, we learn of Han's makeshift plan. Wait until the fleet dumps their trash pre-hyperspace, float away and find a safe place to make repairs. Leia seems to approve, even though she can't help taking another dig at his ship with the wry retort With the rest of the garbage. Their verbal interplay continues as Han stumbles across an old friend.

"Lando System?"
"Lando's not a system, he's a man. Lando Calrissian. He's a card player, gambler -- scoundrel; you'd like him."

This is a great example of tight, efficient exposition with a touch of humor and character flavor. We have a nice sketch of Lando in just a few words. Probably not trustworthy, as Han willingly admits a few lines later, but certainly not the type to hold Imperial sympathies. I'll be exploring a lot more of Lando's complexities later on; this is an fitting setup.

As far as the tone, there's still a slightly combative nature to Han and Leia's exchange, but it's softened, become a little more playful. They both know something has changed between them since that kiss, though neither one is ready to admit it yet. Leia concedes just enough to give his cheek a peck and acknowledge that he does have his moments, now and then, as his plan comes to apparently successful fruition.

And I'm always trying to to work variations of "Lando's not a system; he's a man" into my everyday conversations. It's delightful.

Next, Luke is confronted with the awful paradox of heroic compassion....

After all of Yoda's eloquence, Luke remains unmoved. He stands and looks down at his master, speaking in a disdainful tone. You want the impossible. Still limited by his perceptions, convinced that he knows where the bounds of the possible lie.

He is wrong. With a great sigh Yoda recognizes that there is only one way to get through to such a hard-headed student. He lifts the ship from the swamp himself, slow but steady, with the Force as his unerring ally.

As many lines as I've covered from this scene, the best parts aren't from the dialogue. The sweeping score, building to a climax as the ship emerges and settles gently on the shore. The extraordinary expressiveness on the face of what is essentially a glorified Muppet. The subtle touches of the editing, shots of Yoda in deep concentration, a startled Artoo and a baffled Luke, intercut with the progress of the levitating ship. And note the shift in Luke's placement relative to his teacher. At first, when he slumps to the ground in defeat, they are roughly the same height. Yoda offers him a powerful lesson, but Luke's rejection is visually manifest in the way he stands up and towers over Yoda, believing these precepts to be beneath him. When he returns after the ship's ascension, however, he is positioned on a spot of land below Yoda's perch. He must look up at him, acknowledging his superior skills and knowledge. And still...I don't believe it.

"That is why you fail."

Simple words, yet so profound. This is what Yoda really meant about there being no try. Luke was approaching the task already convinced that he wouldn't succeed, so of course he failed. He had no faith.

Does this mean that the powers of the Force literally don't work if the user doesn't believe in them? That's a matter of debate. We could certainly consider the metaphorical applications in any number of believe systems in which faith is a key principle. Even outside of any religious context, however, it's a fact that we rely on acts of faith every day. We get up each morning with faith that the world still exists outside the bedroom. We reach out to our friends with faith that they will support us. We go to our jobs (or in the case of quarantine, work from home) with faith that we will be compensated for it. We go to bed each night with faith that the world will still be there when we wake up.

Well, you might say, it's hardly an act of faith when we've done those things all our lives and they've always had the same results. True...and yet they're still not completely guaranteed. Some acts of faith are easier, more reliable, than others, but every time we do anything with an expected result, there is some element of faith involved. Without that faith, we wouldn't perform the action in the first place.

So maybe Luke failed because he wasn't really trying, or maybe he failed because the Force doesn't respond to the faithless. Either way, belief is absolutely necessary. Without it, nothing is possible. With it...the possibilities might just be limitless.

Next, we finally move on to a new scene...

I suppose most lists of great lines from Star Wars, or even great lines from Yoda in particular, would include his little speech about how there is no try. I will not. It's one of those quotes, I feel, whose value varies depends on how it's interpreted. When people use it as a way to encourage positive visualization -- "if you can't imagine yourself succeeding then you've already failed" -- well, great. But the other interpretation irks me greatly. Don't bother attempting something unless you can give it your all? Anything less than perfection is unacceptable? Ugh, no. I doubt Yoda is intended to mean it that way, but lifting it out of context, there's just too much room to use it as an excuse for giving up.

There are better quotes from this scene. After Luke tries, and fails (or does not) he slumps down in exhaustion and declares that the task simply isn't possible. It's too big.

"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? And well you should not. For my ally is the Force. And a powerful ally it is."

As in previous entries, Yoda is continually working to break through Luke's stubborn preconceptions. He still can't help seeing the world in physical terms. But he has, in the form of his Jedi Master, a perfect example of how the Force transcends such mundane characteristics. By typical standards, Yoda does not have any appearance of power or might. From his size you might assume he's a child. From his wizened face and slow gait you could think that he's already left the years of his strength far behind him. From his peculiar speech you could imagine his mind is a disordered scramble.

All false. Because his strength comes not from his body, from youth or from stature or cleverness. His strength comes from the Force. If I might paraphrase a Biblical passage, "With [the Force] all things are possible." Without it, the physical world is overwhelming, too big, too heavy, too powerful. With the Force, none of that matters. With an ally like the Force, no enemy is too great.

Next, more eloquence from Yoda....

And now we come to one of my favorite scenes in the entire saga.

Luke is in the midst of his training, which in this case involves both physical and metaphysical exertion. It would surely be challenging enough to stand upside-down on his hands with the additional weight of Yoda himself on top, but Luke is also practicing his telekinesis by levitating rocks. He's already come a long way from struggling to budge his lightsaber in the ice cave.

Still needs to work on his focus, though. Artoo's frantic beeps are enough to send him, and hence his master, toppling to the ground. Let's take a moment to appreciate that marvelous visual:

"Concentraaaaaate!"


Okay, okay. That's not the line I'm actually going to explore today, even if the image is delightful. It's after Luke realizes his ship has fully sunk into the swamp and despairs of ever getting it out. I mean, this is a pretty serious issue. Without a ship, he's trapped on Dagobah for good (unless he has sufficient equipment to contact someone off-planet, but that's all idle speculation). Yoda counters his assumption with quiet weariness. So certain are you? Always with you it cannot be done. Hear you nothing that I say?

Luke is confused, then incredulous as he realizes Yoda's meaning. He's used the Force to move rocks; why not his ship? Because his ship is a thousands of times bigger, right? It's totally different.

"No. No different. Only different in your mind."

You'd better buckle in, because this scene is going to yield more than a few entries. This is the core of Yoda's teachings, the paradigm shifts he requires of his students. You must stop thinking of things in terms of their physical qualities. Comprehending the physical world is only the beginning of understanding, and remaining within its limited strictures will only hamper one's progress in the spiritual realm. Those differences that seem so vast and important are only granted power as long as we believe they are significant. Let go of those assumptions, and we are freed to see a much wider view of the universe.

Now, we're unlikely to access the power of levitation and such other fantastic abilities in our own lives. We can, however, transcend the mundane and the literal through a change of mindset. I'm a big believer in the power of symbols. My very enjoyment of the Star Wars saga springs from the power of its metaphor. Luke is a intergalactic hero who destroys massive space stations, battles dire villains in laser-sword duels, and wields arcane powers beyond comprehension. I'm an unassuming writer, wife and mother living in a quiet neighborhood; I've never even been past the borders of my own country. That's totally different.

No. Only different in my mind. And within my mind, I can see the parallels of Luke's struggles with my own. As I strive to raise my children to be capable and kind, particularly a son with significant disabilities. As I dream of creating art that is meaningful, powerful and life-changing. As I try every day to be a better person, more resilient, more empathetic, more optimistic. Everything shifts from the mundane to the epic. Because the only difference between the mundane and the epic is within one's own mind.

Next, more wisdom from Yoda.....

Back on the Executor, we see Vader introduce a new element into a chase that has previously involved only the Empire and the Rebellion. Bounty hunters. This is a fairly brief scene, but it offers an evocative glimpse of the underworld in the Star Wars galaxy, the same as the cantina sequence in Episode IV or the nightclub in Episode II.

For people who delight in morally ambiguous characters, this is apparently the best part of Star Wars; the mercenaries and assassins and the space version of the Wild West. I guess that explains the appeal of The Mandalorian? Well, that and an infinitely-memeable teensy adorable baby. Whatever. To each their own, but I prefer a wider scope.

Anyway, the visual contrast is highly illustrative. Each hunter has their distinctive look; all are clearly disreputable. They stand in contrast to the Imperials in crisp, identical uniforms -- and it's clear from once officer's disdainful term of "scum" that not everyone agrees with Vader's choice of unconventional resources.

Vader cares not a bit for that. He informs the hunters of a considerable reward and allows whatever methods they deem necessary -- as long as the captives are taken alive. Addressing Boba Fett in particular, he adds a stern specification.

"No disintegrations."

Note: use this phrase whenever you're giving anyone instructions. See if they answer with a grudging, "As you wish."

This is spartan, efficient character-building. From this and Fett's reluctant response, we know that such disintegrations are something of a calling-card for this bounty hunter. And we know that Vader knows this as well. He doesn't share other Imperials' distaste for relying on underworld elements, and seems quite familiar with some of their more notorious figures. (Seeing how comfortably Obi-Wan navigated the cantina, we might surmise that Vader acquired this predilection at least partly from his former master!)

Meanwhile, we don't need a prolonged introduction to Boba Fett. If we knew him as a boy seeking vengeance from his appearance in the prequels, this is a natural extension of that. If this is our first glimpse of him, in mere seconds we learn that he's an infamously ruthless bounty hunter. In a wider context, his quick popularity might have had something to do with marketing and hype. For me, this scene and his tracking skills are enough to establish his character. (And my feelings about his death are quite similar to that of Darth Maul's character -- his death was fully appropriate and not a let-down, however Disney might attempt to resurrect him via shameless pandering to fans. I'll get to that more in the Episode VI installments.)

Welp, things are looking pretty grim for our heroes. Is it possible the Falcon can escape the Imperials yet again, while also evading this brutal crew of hunters? We can only hope -- oh, guess not. The scene ends with an officer triumphantly proclaiming, "Sir, we have them!"

Next, a (near) head-on collision with a Star Destroyer....

In the last scene on Dagobah, Yoda had quite the list of reasons for not training Luke. There was no apparent resolution reached, only a grim warning that fearful times would come. Yet when we return, Luke is in the midst of an intense training session with the Jedi Master. Did something change or happen off-screen? Or was Yoda always planning on teaching Luke, with his apparent refusal serving as yet another test? Many possibile explanations. I can imagine that Luke's very claim of being unafraid provided the opening Yoda wanted; an opportunity to humble this hotheaded boy.

In any case, the training has started. Whether it will succeed in producing a Jedi Knight is up to Luke.

While Luke performs exercises of physical strength and dexterity, Yoda encourages him to recognize the Force in every aspect, flowing through him. The focus of his lesson, however, is a warning.

"But beware the Dark Side. Anger, fear, aggression. The Dark Side are they. Easily they flow. Quick to join in a fight."

You can really see the influence of eastern philosophies in Lucas's concept of the Force. The apparent contradiction of a peaceful warrior will be familiar to anyone who has studied martial arts. Mastery of one's emotions rather than allowing oneself to be mastered by emotions. Attaining balance and finesse through serenity and mindfulness. Knowing that just because you possess fighting skills doesn't mean you should immediately resort to fighting. Yoda will go on to tell Luke that the Jedi use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack. From that we can see how the events of the Clone Wars truly degraded the Jedi's ideals. Once they opened themselves to the idea of leading soldiers in war, they grew quicker and quicker to join in a fight.

Yoda has much to say about the Dark Side, from hard experience. Forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you it will, which he witnessed as Vader destroyed Anakin. What he hasn't yet experienced is someone's reclamation from the Dark Side. Of course it would be better to avoid the Dark Side. But refusing to believe that someone could return is giving in despair. And isn't despair just another manifestation of fear?

Yoda is wise, but he's not all-knowing. There are mysteries of the Force even he hasn't learned yet. Still, his advice is applicable for all of us. Beware of anger, fear, aggression. They are easier, quicker, requiring little self-discipline. But they will lead to a path of destruction.

Next time, we'll continue in this scene with more wisdom from Yoda....

Recently I read a retrospective on Episode V claiming that the parts with Yoda were widely-regarded as the boring scenes. Well, I haven't polled the entirety of everyone who's ever seen the film, but it sounds like utter bunk to me. The Jedi training segments are unquestionably my favorites, and I doubt I'm alone in that. I find myself happily forgetting that it's only a single actor alongside a guy working a puppet, becoming wholly absorbed in the mystic wonder of Yoda's teachings. It's sheer brilliance.

So back on Dagobah, Luke is fast losing patience with the funny little green fellow who claims to know Yoda. Luke is trying to humor his quirky requests since he has no other clue for tracking down the Jedi, but this guy has no sense of the situation's urgency. Why is he puttering and muttering around his little hut and insisting that Luke eat first? (I find it quite entertaining that Luke's opinion of this food is about the same as the reverse situation in the previous scene. That face of disgust and forced swallow are just delightful.)

The truth is, even if the funny little green fellow weren't Yoda, Luke's dismissive, disdainful attitude would still be condemnable. The Force isn't about superiority and mastery -- not the good side, anyway. Having tremendous skills doesn't give you the right to sneer at those simple folk beneath you. On the contrary, a greater knowledge of and aptitude with the Force ought to make you realize just how connected everything is, and how nothing and no one is insignificant. Padmé was no Jedi, but she recognized that about Jar Jar, and it helped save her planet. Luke will recognize it about the Ewoks, and it will help bring down the Empire.

Luke hasn't learned it yet, though. After a particularly petulant outburst, Yoda drops his cover and sighs sadly. He does not believe the boy can be taught. It still takes a while for Luke to realize the truth, after a few ghostly proclamations from Ben. Smacking his head mid-protest only further proves Yoda's point. No patience. Much anger in him, like his father. Reckless. Too old. Luke insists that he won't fail him.

"I'm not afraid."
"Oh...you will be. You will be."

This exchange has ten times the poignancy when seen in the context of the prequels. Anakin was denied training at first as well, for many of the same reasons. But what was the primary concern? Too much fear in him. So it's fascinating to me that when Luke claims to be fearless, Yoda's response is a bone-chilling warning. You will be.

Obviously this was written before Episode I, but let's look retroactively through that lens. Maybe Yoda has learned something with the failure of Anakin. Fear was, no doubt, his path to the Dark Side, but it's more complicated than that. Yoda might have realized that you can't just preemptively shut down all emotions, not even fear. To deny its existence is the surest way to succumb to its control. So Luke needs to be ready for the frightful things that are coming. Ready to confront his deepest fears of failure, loss and betrayal -- ready to overcome them with something far more powerful than fear.

For eight hundred years have I trained Jedi Yoda says, reprimanding Luke just as he reprimanded Qui-Gon for demanding training for someone who was yet untested. In all those years of teaching, however, Yoda still had lessons he had to learn for himself.

Next, more quips as the Falcon narrowly escapes digestion....

I suppose right now we can all relate to the crew trapped aboard the Falcon for a prolonged period. Tempers are flaring, nerves fraying. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if fan fic writers are seizing onto the quarantine as the new "trapped in a snowstorm" scenario for forcing pairings into heightened romantic tension.

Well, the older and wiser I get, the more ambivalent I feel about Han's methods for wooing Leia. When the heaving ship sends her into his lap, she states quite clearly her desire to get away. He ignores it, then teases her quite suggestively. Later, he sneaks up behind her and engages in a whole lot of unwanted physical contact. She lets him know, both in angry shoves and verbal communication ("Stop that!") that he's crossing her boundaries. He persists.

Alas, this is how the dashing hero often woos the maiden in our culture. I assume it partly arose because women were discouraged from seeking out romance themselves, for fear of seeming too forward, too eager, just plain too much. A demure, modest girl would wait for the boy to initiate. That morphed over time into the interpretation of a woman's outright hostile rejection as simply a denial of her true feelings, too tempestuous for her to fully contain. That is certainly the case with Leia. She's a hothead; she's too proud to admit her feelings to Han and open herself to that sort of vulnerability. So he has to push harder. It makes sense for their characters, but it has some truly disturbing implications.

I'm not going to focus on most of their banter leading up to the kiss. It's quite well-written, no question. I can recite it all from memory; that's how good it is. But if you switched out the gentle romantic music in the soundtrack with something from a stalker movie, you could see how easily it becomes creepy.

But then there's the little exchange about Han being a scoundrel; his rejoinder that she ought to have more scoundrels in her life.

"I happen to like nice men."
"I'm a nice man."

Leia's dispute is cut off by their kiss, so maybe she agrees more than she would admit. The wider shot, as Threepio is showing up to throw cold water over everything, reveals that Leia's arms are around entwined around Han, indicating a willingness that belies her words. I kind of wish that wide shot happened earlier, because from the close-up it seems like Han could be backing her into a corner where she has no choice but to respond. Eech. In actuality, she's wanted this as much as he has.

Now, as for that line. Leia does like nice men. Or, more importantly, good men. Because one of her most defining traits is devotion to the cause of freedom, overthrowing tyranny and restoring a compassionate form of governance. How could she be happy with anyone other than a good man?

And Han is good. Getting better. He was pretty selfish when he first met him, preferring to sit and wait for Ben to take down the tractor beam rather than rescue some princess from execution -- at least, until he was promised a generous reward. He's come a long way from that. He's stayed with the Rebellion, probably longer than was wise considering the price on his head, and he's still detoured from going to pay off Jabba the Hutt because he looked out for Leia's safety first.

He's rough around the edges. His idea of flirting is combative and blunt; his default tone is sarcastic. But there's the makings of a hero underneath, becoming clearer with each day. Leia might be attracted to him because of his smirk and his rakishness, but she'll want to stay with him because he is, at his heart, a nice man.

Next, the unspoken power struggle between Master and Apprentice...

The timeline of Episode V has always been a matter of some speculation. A few days, maybe a week? If we're going by the Empire's pursuit of the Falcon, that seems like a reasonable assumption. But if we're looking at Luke's time on Dagobah, surely it would have to be longer than that. He progresses much too far in his training for his time with Yoda to be anything less than months, right?

Well, whatever. Repeat to yourself: it's just a show. You should really just relax.

However long Han, Leia and company are hiding in the asteroid, they wouldn't have much spare time to take it easy. Lots of repairs need to be made, and tensions are running higher every minute. That's certainly true for the couple who keeps dancing around their unacknowledged attraction to each other, but before we go there, let's look at another pairing of opposites. As the ship heaves to and fro, Threepio innocently observes that their hiding place might not be stable. Han's response is less than gracious.

"Not entirely stable? I'm glad you're here to tell us these things. Chewie, take the professor in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive."

These are the sort of sardonic lines that Harrison Ford excels at delivering (and, I suspect, Carrie Fisher excels at writing). Just overflowing with weary contempt. And poor Threepio. His programming seems to have a giant gap in the spot marked Comprehending sarcasm. It does make me wonder if his cluelessness is typical for droids of his type -- aren't they supposed to be designed for human-cyborg relations? Hasn't Han worked with literal-minded droids before? And am I once again overthinking it? Maybe, probably, and yes.

Anyway, I heartily recommend quoting this line anytime someone points out something profoundly obvious. It's quite satisfying. (Hopefully your listeners will have more of a sense of humor than Threepio.)

Next, our first encounter with a little green friend....