Standing in the Balance – Why The Last Jedi is One of my Favourite Movies


When I was seven years old, I brushed past my first experience of melancholy, a feeling of true bittersweet-ness. It’s an odd emotion to go through, especially at that age, but it was such an acute realisation that I’d taken in something really special, and that it was over. It was the day I feverishly asked my mum and step dad if I could watch Return of the Jedi, immediately following my jaw-agape-first-viewing of The Empire Strikes Back. It was already dark outside after all, and I was sure to be sent marching up the stairs soon enough. They nodded happily that I had the time to watch the third and final Star Wars film before bed.


It has now been eight months since the latest installment in the Skywalker saga was released – Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. Much has been said about it, and much will continue to be. I truly believe the risks that it took not only paid off brilliantly, and left me feeling unexpectedly like a kid again (more on that later), but by design were going to leave a lot of people disappointed. To paraphrase our favourite… wait, what species is Yoda again? Alright. I’ll try again without trying to sound clever. To paraphrase Yoda, I believe that a great storyteller must have the deepest commitment, and the most serious mind.

I have no interest in defending The Last Jedi, or even justifying why it’s one of my all time favourite films. I’m merely telling my story of why it connected with me, and why I love it. Nothing more, nothing less. I sometimes feel a little concerned that the people who worked on The Last Jedi have taken the backlash to heart, particularly Rian Johnson. And I’m sure he has. But I’m also sure he can handle it, and to paraphrase our little green friend (eh, I’ll give that one a D+) once again, that is the burden of all great storytellers. If you ever make a deeply personal work, no matter the size or scale of the canvas, it will eventually grow beyond you.

But back to my own self indulgent backstory here, as I attempt to paint the picture of what led me to The Last Jedi, and why it has such a personal resonance and meaning to me. So I was watching the end of the original Star Wars trilogy, a series of films I was long aware of but had never been seen. I knew of Darth Vader, and “use the Force,” but otherwise had little knowledge of what it actually was. I seemed to suddenly started getting a lot of “Luke, I am your Father!” heckles in school, or maybe it had happened before, and I was merely more aware of it after I had started watching the movies. And being named Luke, let me tell you, if I had a pound for every time someome has said that to me I’d have a few hundred quid.


The blue (or was it purple?) ridged carpet had never felt so oddly pleasing as I ran my fingers across it, lying on my front, waiting for the opening crawl of Return of the Jedi to begin. Some two hours later I was elated. It had been everything I’d hoped for and more. My step dad, the man who had practically tried to force feed me Star Wars a few weeks earlier, informed me that there were no more films in the series. There would be no “Episode VII“. I was bummed that there wasn’t more, but at the same time cherished this new discovery, these three sacred movies, six hours of unmitigated joy that I could return to time and time again. And boy did I.


Not long afterwards I heard rumblings of a new Star Wars movie. One that told the backstory of Darth Vader. The rest is history and the prequels were –my– Star Wars. I love them like that kind hearted friend in school you were always so attached to and protective of, despite their many surface faults and enduring body odour. The heart was there and always will be, even if there are many pot holes along the way. And yet I still didn’t feel like I’d experienced it all properly. I never got to see The Phantom Menace in the cinema for one thing. At the time I lived a couple of miles away from Stonehenge, out in the country, so there was no nearby cinema. And by the time Revenge of the Sith came out I was sixteen and more interested in other things to truly grasp the moment of it.


In 2012, Disney bought LucasFilm. Alright, I thought, not too moved by the news one way or the other. So they’re going to delve into the merchandise possibilities and make some TV shows or something. Surely that was all there was to it. I remember checking my phone in work and stopping dead in my tracks when the news came with the explicit announcement that they would be producing Star Wars: Episode VII. I couldn’t believe it. And that was why I failed… to understand just how special this newly proposed sequel trilogy was going to become to me.
I spent most of my childhood imagining a hypothetical Episode VII.

Hell, I even wrote one when I was twelve, a sixty page story about Luke Skywalker’s son Ben, influenced by the expanded universe novels that I enjoyed, but with my own twist of Luke being an old man with white robes and an Obi-Wan inspired beard. My ideal vision of Luke was a content and wise Jedi Master, teacher of many young pupils and truly at peace with his place in the galaxy. My version wasn’t very interesting, but I was twelve, cut me a break.

I had spent almost twenty years entrenched in the idea that there would never be a sequel to Return of the Jedi. As I got older, the why became more clear. Carrie Fisher had gone through some troubling times, Harrison Ford was apparently over the series, and Mark Hamill had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth. Bare in mind, this was from my teenage perspective, long before the internet had truly become the norm, and actual information was scant. I was also aware that George Lucas simply had no more story to tell, and yet whispered tales of the legendary sequel trilogy still endured among my friends. It was like the Trilogy That Shall Not Be Named, as if talking about it would somehow curse its possibility forever. But I never, ever thought that it would actually come to pass.


I could hardly contain my excitement when Disney quietly announced on a random weekday in 2014 that Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, Harrison Ford (among other old favourites) were officially returning for the seventh entry in the saga. The big shocker was Harrison Ford, (apparently Hamill even said “he’ll never do it!”) yet all I could focus on was Mark. I had eyes as wide as Rey in The Force Awakens when she first hears Luke’s name, just imagining the very giddy reality that I would see my favourite Star Wars character in a movie again. I had since realised just how wrong my youthful perception of Mark Hamill vanishing really was, and had become a big fan of his work as an actor in general. From voicing the Joker to interesting roles in movies like Sushi Girl, he became one of my favourites, beyond the galaxy far, far away.


Now The Force Awakens was my Star Wars. The mythical, seemingly unattainable Episode VII. The hype was through the roof, the likes of which we will truly never see again. It’s not like the Star Wars universe is going to stop dead with Episode IX, and in thirty years Daisy Ridley, John Boyega and Oscar Isaac will come back for another go around. The distance and time between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens is something you cannot manufacture. It wasn’t just a sci-fi action adventure flick, it was an event. I had unfortunately seen a report that Luke Skywalker was only going to be in the film for a couple of minutes at the very end, and even worse, had no dialogue.

Nahhhhh! I scoffed. There was just no way! We’d seen Mark Hamill with a beard for over a year, it wasn’t as if he was just hanging around not playing scenes the whole time, right? If that was going to be the case, I was ready to riot. The idea that I’d longed for two whole decades to see Luke again and would be short changed really brought my piss to a boil. So, it must have been a false rumour. Surely.

Then The Force Awakens happened. And Luke was only in the film for a couple of minutes (barely a minute if we’re being real picky) and yep, he had no dialogue. And I applauded along with the rest of the cinema at 2:30am in the morning as the credits rolled on the film’s midnight premiere. He hadn’t been physically in the movie until the closing minute, but the whole movie was about HIM. To sweeten the deal, I was floored with how much emotion and untold meaning were etched onto the face of an aged Luke Skywalker. An aged Luke Skywalker who looked eerily similar to the way I had envisioned him in my teenage writings, but with an added layer of world weariness, emotional damage, and flashier hair.

Speculation ran rampant for years. Not just about why Luke had been absent from the fight, but who Rey’s parents were, and any other configuration you could possibly imagine about any conceivable plot point and character imaginable. Me? I was married and eyeing up a mortgage to the idea that Rey was Luke’s daughter. The emotion in each other’s eyes as they met, the Skywalker saber calling to her hands while the triumphant yet mournful rendition of the Binary Sunset theme from John Williams played, every sign pointed towards it. Despite being very open to any story JJ Abrams wanted to take me on, for Episode VIII – I was set in what I wanted, and what I didn’t want.


The announcement of Rian Johnson stepping in to not only direct but write Episode VIII was yet another reason for me to be unreasonably excited. His previous movie Looper became an instant favourite and his directed episodes of Breaking Bad are far and away the best episodes of, well, the best television series I’ve ever seen. A new voice and flavour to the sequel trilogy was really interesting. The trailers spoke to that. I wasn’t as excited initially, because it felt oh so much more deeper, and darker. I began to worry that The Last Jedi was going to gut me by the end. That I would be left with two years of agony, dumped on another cliffhanger with our heroes up shit creek. After the wonderful and captivating performances of Adam Driver and Daisy Ridley in The Force Awakens, I knew magic was abound in the sequel based on their involvement alone, but I started to wonder if it would be possible to match the feeling of “coming home” that JJ Abrams had captured in VII.


For all the uncertainty I had about The Last Jedi, the night before the first 10am showing I couldn’t get to sleep at all. To drag out the tired old cliche and flog it further, I really did feel like a kid on Christmas Eve. The butterflies in my stomach were somewhat softened as I sat down in the cinema by the sight of a full costumed pairing of Darth Vader and Kylo Ren stood next to the screen, both fumbling with their gloves and smartphones, tapping each other’s helmets in an attempt to co-ordinate a selfie. And then the movie happened.

Some two and a half hours later, I recorded a vlog outside the cinema, and once I could pack my goofy, gleeful grin back in my mouth, I notably said: “It was fucking perfect. It was everything. It destroyed me and completed me at the same time.” Yeah, I know. Barf. (I’m my own best friend!) Someone recently found this video and “reacted” to it, laughing about how stupid I am, no doubt. I’m quite proud that I never really watched it. Seeking out people with completely harmless opinions that differ from your own to laugh at and criticise seems like just about one of the most fruitless things you could possibly do with your time.

But as cheesy as my honest words sounded, they were just that. I meant it. Perfect is such an interesting word, because objectively, at least when it comes to art, it’s kind of impossible. To me, Seven Samurai is the greatest film I’ve ever seen, from the thousands I’ve watched in my lifetime. And there’s a few funky bits in that too. I see perfect as a word that sums up something you loved completely, and that’s it.

In the times of the prequels and The Force Awakens coming out, I really did think those were my Star Wars moments. The ones that came out during my lifetime, when I could experience their release and reactions and revel in the excitement. But The Last Jedi is, and will always be my Star Wars. (Third time lucky, eh?) Wanting the prequels or Episode VII to be the defining Star Wars movies of my life was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I loved them, but they weren’t where the true magic was. As an adult I saw things in The Last Jedi that truly connected with me, that struck a chord and dug in deep. It was the closest in impact to my absolute favourite film, The Empire Strikes Back, whilst still being so very, very different.

The first viewing, I was a mess of emotions. I’d never cried in a cinema, and by crying I do mean allowing those pesky droplets of tears to actually roll down your cheek. I’ve been moved and choked up in a cinema hundreds of times. But when I saw my two favourite characters, from my favourite movie, reunited one last time, I couldn’t hold those tears back. As Luke Skywalker and Yoda reconnected, I let the tears trickle away, happily.

The film was powerful, emotional, mystical… everything I loved about Star Wars. Did it have that unexplainable charm of the original three movies? No, and nothing ever will. Perhaps part of the problem with these new movies for some people, is this pedestal upon which the holy original trilogy is placed. I get it, there’s an unrepeatable magic to those films, but to directly quote a character from another juggernaut movie franchise… a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.

Would I have wanted a trilogy of Luke, Han, Leia, Chewie, R2, 3PO and Lando back together again, fighting the bad guys and going on adventures? Sure! It may have stretched credibility a tad, but why not? But this series has become generational, since the day George decided to do the prequels. Cyclical, even. A new generation of characters needed to be introduced, and thankfully I loved them. The key pairings of our new cast with the old have worked wonderfully so far (Finn & Han, Rey & Luke, Poe & Leia) with lessons being imparted, and torches being passed gracefully.

Besides, we already have movies that gives us all of those things, and we can go back to them any time we want. Now we have a hero who has to find her own place, a villain more twisted and conflicted than we’ve ever seen before, and an inevitable showdown that will surely be something unforgettable. It’s starting to sound like I’m defending which I don’t want to veer off into, but I really do stand by the merit of having the original cast play supporting parts, over the quick and easy path of making them take center stage.

Now, eight months on, I rank The Last Jedi in my top five favourite films of all time, where it sits comfortably with other genre films that speak to my true love of cinema: unbridled escapism. I love disappearing into other worlds, whilst still being told something about the human experience and connecting with the characters despite their surroundings and differences. But what does it for me, with The Last Jedi?

For one, the performances are stellar. Adam Driver is Rutger-Hauer-in-Blade-Runner level great, a turn so captivating I find new details in every inflection of his voice and in every movement of his face. Daisy Ridley is tremendous, displaying a raw, untapped fire at everything that is wrong with the galaxy, and at the same time a gentle, vulnerable and innate kindess. Mark Hamill gives his all time career best as Luke in a knockout performance filled to the brim with regret, reluctance, and ultimately peace. That trifecta of acting pushes the film so much higher than it has any right to be, and the rest of the cast are excellent to boot. Special mention to Carrie Fisher, who while I enjoyed immensely in The Force Awakens, she truly felt like a complete Leia in The Last Jedi. A sublime performance that many don’t comment on, she brought such great subtlety to certain moments, especially the knowing hint of a smile as she proudly watches Poe leading the Resistance out of the caves on Crait. Perfect.

You even have smaller parts shining, like Captain Canady, a deliciously camp First Order officer, or Paige Tico, who with scarcely a single word of dialogue leaves such an impactful imprint on the screen. And lest we forget Andy Serkis, who truly does disappear into every role he takes on, breathing a showstopping life into Snoke. A character that I love. Let’s talk about him for a moment.

Rampant speculation has no doubt sullied the very idea of Snoke for many people, but I personally adore the idea that he is just what he seems. Himself. I paint in the blanks with Snoke, imagining him to be a powerful user of the dark side of the Force, who leapt at the chance to pick up where the Emperor left off. He models himself after the Emperor, with his own throne room, his own red clad guard, and looms ominous over the galaxy with the power of his First Order. To me he’s the great pretender, a master of smoke and mirrors. Powerful with the Force, yes, but also weak and diseased, a man more reliant on manipulation and intimidation than anything else. His garish golden robes show his flare for theatricality, and his demise the perfect summation of his vanity. He was an evil Wizard of Oz. Brilliant.

Any great performance needs to be written however, and Rian Johnson did a beautiful job with the script. I’ve seen the film almost a dozen times at this point (with a record breaking eight viewings in the cinema) and have such a fondness for the story and dialogue. I mean, nothing can truly be airtight, and maybe I do get slightly irked when Luke says “hubris” twice in the span of fifteen seconds, but it really is an excellent script. Any great film is a great collaboration, and so the writing and acting breathe life into each other when you get it just right.

The visuals are stellar, from the cinematography (which may be the franchise’s all time best) to the fantastic visual effects, both practical and digital. Incredible creature designs that bring the tangible quality of awe and imagination straight back to childhood wonder, and costumes that reflect the characters. (Moody, fisherman attire Luke is so good.) Then there’s the sound design, the sound effects, the masterpiece of a score written and orchestrated by the national treasure that is John Williams. Every piece of the puzzle creates one living, breathing whole, and very rarely do all the pieces fit so snugly. And as an editor, I truly appreciate the wonderful cutting throughout the film, whether it be transitions to other scenes (The “Where’s Han?” cut is inspired) or the frenetic crosscutting during the big set pieces.

For fun, me and a friend did a video commentary on the film a few months ago, and as we were doing it from the UK to the US, we each watched our own Blu-ray copies with the sound off, and the subtitles on. Seeing the entire film from start to finish without sound really amplifies just how well the movie is put together, and some of the visual storytelling through match cutting is at times quite brilliant.

This is the only area that I actually get my back up over people criticising The Last Jedi. When they proclaim it’s a badly made film. Absolute lunacy.

Back to my concerns before the film came out, y’know, when I was worried the film would leave me sick to my stomach with another downbeat cliffhanger. Not only was I not gutted and left feeling hung out to dry by some cruel third act twist, I felt a surge of energy and upliftment. I had fully expected The Last Jedi to leave us with a conflicted Rey, a woman unsure of where she should stand. And after the trials she endures throughout the film, to see her standing firm on the right side was incredibly hopeful. At this point the term “hope” has become almost overbearing in the Star Wars universe but it’s something I feel quite strongly about.

Our whole lives are predicated on hope. We hope our future will turn out well, we hope our upcoming holiday will be fun, we hope tomorrow will be better, we hope we stay healthy. Of course in Star Wars hope is built around the fate of an entire galaxy, but it’s just a basic core of the human condition that it binds the entire series together in a surefire relatability.

And who was Luke Skywalker, if not the “New Hope”? Subject of much debate, Luke’s character is very closed off and despondent in The Last Jedi. Luke has always been, at his core, impatient and emotional. Whether it was leaving to save his friends against the advice of a master with nine hundred years of life experience, or whether it was shedding his facade of confidence and calm in the Emperor’s throne room, and attacking his father in a rage. As a master to his nephew Ben Solo, he failed. Because he’s human.

The deconstruction of a myth and a legend is a very interesting route to take, one that I wasn’t quite expecting. As I said before, I was bound to the notion that Rey was Luke’s daughter, that their unspoken emotions at the end of The Force Awakens meant something more. In finding out this wasn’t the case, I wasn’t disappointed, but intrigued. Perhaps Rey will be free of the tragic cycle of the Skywalker family, unlike Ben.

Another tired cliche at this point for Star Wars fans is the oft-quoted, much-memed line from George Lucas when he was making The Phantom Menace. “It’s like poetry, they rhyme.” But I find it rings true in very effective ways throughout the entire series. From Luke’s perspective, the Jedi’s legacy is nothing but failure, and he was no different. He was never going to go through with killing Ben, it was a glimmer of madness at the foresight of the uncontrollable horrors of his nephew’s future. If Ben Solo had only been a deep sleeper, he may never have become Kylo Ren. All it takes is one fleeting moment (or one bad day…), and things can change forever. That moment is the great tragedy of the sequel trilogy, I think.

The Skywalkers are bound to tragedy, and perhaps it would have been best to leave things as happily as we did in Return of the Jedi. But if there is any semblance of truth to be found in these space operas, it’s in the inevitability of tragedy that colours everyone’s lives at some point. It will never fully disappear, and we will always have to live with its presence, no matter how big or small its effect on us is. But the key is in finding the balance between the good and the bad. Appreciating the fleeting wonder of the light, fighting against the oppression of the dark. Like the original Star Wars trilogy, I find The Last Jedi to embrace and champion this very simple but powerful ideal.

Luke’s deception on Crait is one of my favourite sequences in any film. To truly embody the philosophy of the Jedi, more than any Jedi we’ve ever seen before (“A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack.”), and to pull off the most badass pacifist move ever, Luke saved the galaxy one last time. It may have been just a small group of important rebels that he helped to flee, but the most important element is that Luke decided to face his own legend, and to breathe life back into it once more. The final, beautiful scene of the film showcases this as the young slaves discuss Luke’s reappearance excitedly, fashioning their own toys to recreate the story they’d heard (like we all did ourselves one day…). The new legend of Luke Skywalker.

Much like my disdain at the idea of Luke only appearing in The Force Awakens at the end, with no dialogue, if you had told me there was no real lightsaber duel in The Last Jedi, I would have balked. But to see Luke and Kylo face off, in a showdown of light and emotion, without ever touching, was something I never knew I wanted to see so badly. To see my childhood hero shake off his demons and reclaim his own myth in the most unexpected way possible was a thrill I could never fully describe.

I felt as giddy as a child, and that’s the best feeling to have coming out of a movie. It doesn’t happen often. After I first saw the film, I wandered around the city of Trondheim, Norway, where I lived at the time, practically gliding across the snow. I went right back in to the cinema an hour later, and saw the film again, pricey Norwegian cinema tickets be damned! And I was moved all over again. Blood pumping through my veins at the exciting action set pieces and emotional sledgehammers, tears rippling under my eyelids when the Millennium Falcon roared through the crystal caves of Crait as the Death Star Escape theme boomed through the cinema. And grinning from ear to ear when Yoda turned up, now able to actually listen to a word he said with my emotions more in check.

But the best viewing was the third. On the Friday night, with my fiancee Connie. I was so excited to see her reaction, to feel her reaction, and it was a packed room. We were sat in the middle, our usual spot, and the atmosphere was quietly electric. As Kylo killed Snoke (another one of my favourite sequences ever) and stood back to back with Rey, I heard someone exclaim gleefully in one of the back rows, and a hushed sense of awe fanned out across the room. I could sense Connie’s awe also, and sharing that love of something with her was really something. It was December, in Norway, and we were boiling hot by the end, the room had become so tense that the minus degrees temperature outside the cinema was a relief.

I will no doubt be forever chasing a cinema experience like that again, prepared for disappointment should it ever be toppled, but always, secretly hoping, that it remains unmatched forever. The Last Jedi is true magic to me, something that only comes along every once in a while, something to be celebrated, not matter what others may think. We can all love what we love, and dislike what we dislike. I wouldn’t dream of trying to convince someone to like a film more, the same way I wouldn’t attempt to make someone enjoy a film they like less. Though I do try to operate under the philosophy of focusing on talking about art that I like, and not lingering for too long on art I don’t. Bashing doesn’t seem to serve much of a purpose, nor does getting angry about it.

This may come across as a giant big, soppy love letter to Rian Johnson, and in a way… it totally is! But it’s more a giant big, soppy love letter to the thousands of people who made The Last Jedi. I could wax silly-ly on all day about the hundreds of tiny moments in the film I love, about Rose’s fiery spirit, DJ’s “maybe” line, every scene with the Caretakers, Leia’s flight (which was utterly amazing, I loved every second), about Rey’s innocent and playful reaction to seeing rain for no doubt the first time, about how maddeningly complex and interesting Ben Solo is… but then you’d never get to stop reading this.

I mentioned the George Lucas poetry line earlier, and I think that idea has never been as brilliantly portrayed as it is in The Last Jedi, when Luke dies. (Um… spoilers?) A simple juxtaposition between his longing glance at the twin sunset on Tatooine in Star Wars, and his emotional, exhausted gaze at a binary sunrise in The Last Jedi, moments before he becomes one with the Force, makes for my favourite single shot in film history. It’s a testament to Rian’s vision, the artists that realised that visual idea, John Williams’s unforgettable accompaniment to it, and Mark Hamill’s spellbinding, worldess performance.

It encapsulates our hero’s journey through the entire story, but it also reflects our own journeys through life, an idealistic take on that full circle moment. Looking out to the horizon in our youth as we face the beginning of adulthood, uncertain of our future, yearning and longing for something bigger. An adventure. And in the end, looking back at that same horizon, imagining our younger self, reflecting on everything in one moment, at peace with where we ended up, despite the horrors we will all inevitably face along the way. Embracing the light, fighting the darkness, standing firm in the balance, if we can manage it. With peace and purpose.

Luke Ryan

August 30th, 2018.



My Top 10 Favourite Films of 2017

January 10th, 2018

So here are my (as of January 1st, 2017) Top 10 Films of 2017. As always, these are my favourites, not what I would consider the “best” films of 2017, though I’d argue that at least most of the movies on my list this year are “great” films.

As it goes every year, I spend December through February playing catch up, and getting to as many of the films I missed as possible, so this is my “rough cut” so to speak. I saw 67 new releases in 2017.

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Subtlety Suffers, Spectacle Triumphs – Star Wars: The Last Jedi in 4DX

January 3rd, 2018

So today I took my brother Tommi into Cardiff to see Star Wars: The Last Jedi. The film has been out for a few weeks at this point and he still hadn’t seen it. As I’d already watched it six times, I felt like taking it in via a different format. The Vue cinema was screening it in 4K, but I wanted to venture even further into cinematic progress, and arrived at the relatively new format called 4DX. It’s impossible for me to think of the term 4DX without hearing Doc Brown in my head saying “Marty, it’s perfect! You’re just not thinking fourth dimensionally!”

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You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy – 15th March 2012

So yesterday was interesting. I work for a superstore chain in the UK, though the store I work at is a smaller one, and in the space of twenty minutes, I stopped three shoplifters. Pretty cool right? Well, it was, kinda. I don’t know why I bother though, it’s a thankless thing to do. I don’t particularly care for the store I work at, I have no emotional connection to it, what’s it to me if it loses a few pounds here and there? However, I’d be willing to bet if you looked at how much money every single shop and superstore in the UK loses every week from shoplifting, it’s probably up in the high hundreds of thousands, if not millions. That’s chump change to some of these chains though, so why should I care? The answer is, I don’t, but I feel like even though I hate working there, and retail plain sucks, I have some kind of duty to stop them when I can. It’s not a nice thing to do, to ask someone if they’ve been stealing, or to follow them, or to confront them. I hate confrontations.

It annoys me though, that some people just seem to think that the world owes them something. Because deep down, most of these people don’t think they’re really doing much wrong, and delude themselves into thinking they’re in the right. So, the people I “stopped”,  here’s the deal:

  1. A girl comes into the store with a strong, white plastic bag. Her calling card. She comes in with her boyfriend all the time(or she used to last year, before our Duty Manager caught her in the act and banned her with some finality that seemed to have sorted her out) and puts things in the white bag. It’s ridiculous that she always brings it, it always stands out so much. So I watch her and she has this cheap bottle of Coke with her. Next minute its in her bag so I ask her if she has a receipt. She gave me probably the dirtiest look that has ever existed and showed me her receipt, glaring even more. I bluntly said to her “you’ve been stealing from her so many times, you think I’m not going to check?” She had about four expensive Mothers Day cards in her hands, which she promptly put back and left. That’s her trick; buy something small, then stay in the shop and dump things into the bag. So I stopped her there. Yet, a small part of me thinks she tricked me and showed me a receipt from another day when she had bought the Coke: I didn’t check the date.(I was shocked she actually had a receipt. Maybe I’m giving her too much credit though, I doubt she’d be that smart, given how conspicuous she acts when she steals.
  2. Literally the second she walked out of the door, I turn around and a guy is just loading a plastic bag up with expensive washing up items. He looked at me and put them back, muttering “oh I…don’t need that one actually.” He tried a few more times and I effectively used the Shoplifter Troll. Which is the best way sometimes when someone looks dodgy or like they could be trouble if you flat out ask them to leave, or if even they look like they could get violent. You do get some really rough looking people who have scars all over them from fights so, it’s best not to go in guns blazing. The Shoplifter Troll is the act of following them around, but not making it look like you are. So they can’t steal anything, and eventually they get annoyed enough to just give up. If you make it obvious you’re following them, then sometimes they actually get more determined and will do anything to get away with the stuff they want for free. He left pretty quickly.
  3. Literally again(I’m not kidding) as soon as that guy had left, I turned around and another was there, with the same brand of plastic bag the last guy had, which also looked rumpled and wrinkled like it had been used fifty times. Coincidence? I think not. They must have been working together. We sometimes get that, gangs of older men tag teaming up. This one however, was loading up a basket, with the plastic bag inside, obviously hoping to slip items in there. I carried on putting easter eggs on the shelves around the store, not giving him more than a few seconds alone. He actually kept phoning himself and having fake conversations. “Oh yeah, I’m in the shop now, I have fifty quid to spend.” I can’t comprehend what goes through their heads, its so embarrassingly obvious. He tried to wait it out, filling his basket to the brim, and after Trolling him a little more, he left the basket and pretended to have a shop-leaving argument on the phone. Success!

So I was feeling pretty damn good about myself after that, having stealthily apprehended three shoplifters in less than half an hour. That feeling soon vanished though. I went on my break and when I came back, a trolley had been stolen. Which could mean only one thing: someone had loaded it up with groceries and walked out. People try that all the time, sadly. I felt so deflated, like, no matter what, the “bad guys” will always win. It turned out a few hours later the trolley was outside the back of the store. Now if someone had loaded the trolley up and left, it’s not likely they would return it outside. Then again, where do they go with all that stuff? Plus our customers love to tell us about things we’ve done wrong or need to sort out, so someone definitely would’ve said something. So my theory is someone took their bought and paid for shopping out back to their car, because they were too lazy to carry a few bags.(we’re not a superstore, yet people insist on buying massive amounts) And they obviously couldn’t be bothered to wheel it back in either. People piss me off. Not as much as shoplifters, but they’re up there.

You may have noticed I haven’t specified which store I work at, and that’s because I know of another superstore that my friends work at, that have an eagle eye on all social networking of their staff, ready to fire or give out warnings for anything negative said about them. Not that I would get in trouble for this, I’m not criticising them, but I’m keeping all my bases covered. I’m sure through my available web of internet musings you can figure out which store it is if you really wanted. Bottom line, as far as I’m concerned, the store is a nice store, frequented by nice customers, that’s usually thriving day to day with awful customers and scumbag shoplifters. You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. In Penarth anyway. Ok I’m exaggerating, I’m sure there’s far worse places, per se. But when it comes to stores, in Penarth town, then yeah, it is.


By the way, in May 2011, I went on what I liked to call at the time, The Epic Journey. It involved me going to see two of my favourite rock bands for the first time, over a long weekend travelling across three countries in the UK. I vlogged throughout the whole process and kept a diary, which you can check out at the top of this blog on the tab under the banner. I’ll probably be adding more diaries and past writings in the future too, I like how it turned out on here.