In the aftermath of The Force Awakens, Star Wars fans were left with myriad burning questions: “Who are Rey’s parents?” “Where did Snoke come from?” “Will the next movie be a retread of The Empire Strikes Back?” Though Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi may or may not have the answers viewers want, the film is just what we didn’t know we needed—a loving but brutal deconstruction and reassembling of the sacred Jedi/Sith mythos that have bound up sci-fi/fantasy geeks’ imaginations for more than four decades. The eighth installment is too long in places, too derivative in others, but most of it sparkles with the unbridled emotional energy that fused George Lucas’ original franchise with our pop culture DNA. This isn’t an obligatory “middle chapter” packed with disposable missions and tedious seed-planting. In fact, it feels oddly like a fond farewell—which begs an entirely different kind of question: “Where to next?”