The Paper Gets Something Right That Star Wars Got Wrong

After finishing Season 2 of The Paper, I realized something about sequels: you don’t have to ruin the original characters’ happy endings to tell a new story.

Spoiler warning: This article discusses major plot points from the original and sequel Star Wars trilogies, the ending of The Office, and storylines from The Paper.

I just finished watching Season 2 of The Paper, and it got me thinking about something

Hollywood doesn’t always seem to understand.

You can make a sequel to a beloved show without ruining the ending of the original.

Seriously. It can be done.

The Paper takes us back into the world of The Office, brings Oscar Martinez along for the ride, and then does something surprisingly refreshing.

It lets the original characters keep their endings.

Michael Scott can still have his happy ending. Jim and Pam can still be together. Dwight can still be regional manager.

We don’t need to discover that Michael got divorced, Jim abandoned Pam, or Dwight lost everything he worked for.

Instead, we get new characters, new relationships, and a new workplace with its own problems.

And watching it made me think about another franchise that took a very different approach.

Star Wars.

Because apparently defeating the Emperor, redeeming Darth Vader, and saving the galaxy wasn’t enough.

Thirty years later, so much of what those characters accomplished has fallen apart.

A sequel should continue a universe, not automatically undo the ending of the story that came before it.

Return of the Jedi Gave Us an Ending. A Good One.

Let’s go back to 1983.

Return of the Jedi ends with the good guys winning.

The Emperor is defeated. Darth Vader is redeemed. Luke Skywalker becomes the Jedi

his father couldn’t remain. Han Solo and Princess Leia are together.

The Rebel Alliance celebrates, and the galaxy finally has a reason to hope.

It’s a satisfying conclusion to a story that began with a farm boy staring at two suns.

We spent three movies watching these characters struggle, grow, and fight for something better.

And at the end, they earned their victory.

Obviously, defeating the Emperor doesn’t mean every problem in the galaxy magically disappears.

There would still be political problems, remnants of the Empire, and the enormous task of rebuilding a government.

There’s room for more stories.

An entire galaxy’s worth.

But that doesn’t mean you need to undo the original victory.

Unfortunately, that’s how much of the sequel trilogy felt to me.

The Force Awakens: What Happened to Everybody?

When The Force Awakens arrived in 2015, I was excited.

We were getting new Star Wars movies. The original actors were returning. Luke, Han, and Leia were back.

And to be fair, I enjoyed plenty about The Force Awakens when it came out.

The new characters had potential. The movie looked fantastic. Seeing the Millennium

Falcon again was a thrill.

But when you look at where the original characters ended up, it’s kind of depressing.

Han and Leia?

Separated. Their son has turned to the dark side. Han is back to smuggling.

Luke Skywalker?

Missing. His attempt to rebuild the Jedi Order has ended in disaster.

And the galaxy?

There’s another massive military threat, another planet-destroying superweapon, and

another resistance movement fighting what looks suspiciously like the Empire.

Wait a minute.

Didn’t we already do this?

Didn’t we spend three movies defeating an evil empire? Didn’t Luke help redeem Darth

Vader? Didn’t Han grow from a selfish smuggler into somebody willing to fight for something bigger than himself?

Why are we starting over with so much of that progress erased?

Han Solo is eventually killed by his own son. Luke goes into exile after his nephew’s fall.

Leia spends her later years leading another resistance while her family has fallen apart.

By the end of the sequel trilogy, all three original heroes are dead.

Now, I’m not saying fictional characters need perfect lives.

Of course they don’t.

A good story needs conflict.

And I understand the argument that Luke’s failure and eventual return make him a more

complicated character. There’s something meaningful about a hero confronting the consequences of his mistakes, and his final act in The Last Jedi is intended to restore hope.

I can appreciate that interpretation.

But there’s a difference between giving a character new challenges and making their previous accomplishments feel temporary.

If the only way to make your new heroes important is to make the old heroes failures, maybe the new story needs a stronger foundation.

That’s what bothers me.

It’s not simply that Luke faced tragedy or that Han and Leia had problems.

It’s that so much of the sequel trilogy’s emotional weight comes from watching the victories of the original trilogy fall apart.

And then we’re expected to cheer when the new characters fight to restore hope to the galaxy.

Hope that, last time I checked, we already restored.

What If Star Wars Had Just Moved Forward?

Here’s what I’ve never understood.

Star Wars has an entire galaxy to work with.

Thousands of planets. Countless civilizations. A history spanning generations.

And somehow we ended up back with another desert orphan, another masked villain, another giant superweapon, and another rebellion.

Why couldn’t Episode VII have taken place 100 years after Luke Skywalker?

Seriously. Imagine that.

Luke, Leia, and Han are legendary figures in galactic history. Their accomplishments matter. The Empire’s defeat changed the galaxy.

Maybe Luke established a new Jedi Order that survived beyond his lifetime.

And now, a century later, a completely new generation faces a completely new threat.

Different political conflicts. Different villains. Different heroes.

Maybe the Jedi have become complacent. Maybe a new group challenges their understanding of the Force. Maybe the galaxy faces something we’ve never seen before.

You could build an entire trilogy around that.

And here’s where I think it could get really interesting.

You could still bring back the original actors.

In 2015, Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher were all old enough to convincingly portray characters who had spent decades helping rebuild the galaxy.

So why not use them in flashbacks?

Imagine seeing Luke establish a new Jedi Order, Leia help build a lasting government, and Han find his place in a galaxy that no longer needs him to be a smuggler.

They wouldn’t have perfect lives. They’d face setbacks, disagreements, and difficult decisions.

But we’d see how their work helped shape the galaxy that exists a century later.

And then there’s Luke.

Imagine our new hero has grown up hearing stories about the legendary Luke Skywalker.

To this young Jedi, Luke is practically a myth. The man who helped defeat the Emperor, redeemed Darth Vader, and restored the Jedi.

Someone who always knew what to do.

Until one day, the new hero encounters Luke himself.

As a Force ghost.

And yes, Mark Hamill could still play him.

Maybe the young Jedi is struggling with a decision and admits that he wishes he could be more like Luke.

That Luke never seemed afraid. Never made mistakes. Always knew the right thing to do.

And Luke tells him that the stories people remember aren’t always the whole story.

He struggled. He doubted himself. He made mistakes. He sometimes wondered whether he was capable of living up to what people expected of him.

That conversation could lead us into flashbacks showing the challenges Luke and the others faced after Return of the Jedi.

Not because their victory was meaningless, but because building something lasting is often harder than winning the battle that made it possible.

And the young Jedi would learn something important.

Being a hero doesn’t mean never making mistakes. It means what you choose to do after you’ve made them.

That’s a story I’d want to see.

We’d get meaningful appearances from the original cast, learn how their decisions shaped the galaxy, and watch Luke guide a new hero without taking over the story.

The original heroes could have their victories, their struggles, and ultimately their peace.

And the new trilogy could belong to a new generation.

The Paper Understood the Assignment

Now, back to the show that started this whole train of thought.

When I heard they were making a follow-up to The Office, I was skeptical.

Because The Office has one of those finales that genuinely feels like an ending.

Michael Scott gets the family he always wanted. Jim and Pam work through their

struggles and move toward a new chapter. Dwight finally becomes regional manager and marries Angela.

The documentary ends.

And the characters move on.

After nine seasons, I appreciated that closure.

As it turns out, so did Greg Daniels.

In an interview with TheWrap, Daniels explained that he had resisted rebooting The Office because the characters’ stories had already reached meaningful conclusions. He didn’t want to undo that ending.

That wasn’t just something I was hoping the creators understood. It was part of their approach to the new show.

Instead of reopening everybody’s story, The Paper follows the documentary crew to a struggling newspaper in Toledo, Ohio.

And yes, Oscar Martinez is there.

He’s a familiar face who connects the two shows, but his story still has room to develop.

The other characters can remain where we left them.

The Paper lets them keep their endings.

And I love that.

The Paper Has Its Own Story to Tell

What I appreciate most about The Paper is that it has a premise worth exploring on its

own.

Ned Sampson is trying to revive a struggling local newspaper at a time when the future of journalism is uncertain.

He believes in what the paper could become, even when the people around him don’t necessarily share his optimism.

And Season 2 builds on that premise.

After the newspaper’s success at the Ohio Journalism Awards, Ned sets his sights on more ambitious reporting. His pursuit of a local private club creates new problems for the newspaper, while his developing relationship with Mare adds another complication.

The staff also begin finding their footing as reporters.

Those are conflicts that belong to these characters.

They don’t require the show to recreate Jim and Pam’s relationship or Michael Scott’s journey.

And that’s important because The Paper isn’t simply a collection of familiar references.

It’s trying to become something worth watching on its own.

A Cameo Should Be a Bonus, Not a Life-Support System

I think bringing Oscar into The Paper was a smart decision.

He’s recognizable, he connects the two shows, and there’s room to explore his life in a different workplace.

But he isn’t there to take over the story.

He can just be Oscar, surrounded by a new group of people.

And the show can move forward.

Here’s something I wish more studios understood.

If your new show needs a beloved character to walk through the door every few episodes just to keep people interested, maybe your new story isn’t interesting enough without them.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good cameo.

There’s something genuinely fun about seeing a familiar character show up unexpectedly. Sometimes a returning character has an important role to play.

But a cameo should be a bonus, not a life-support system for your story.

And here’s what makes this especially interesting.

Greg Daniels has said he wanted The Paper to succeed on its own merits rather than depend on constant appearances from the original cast.

That’s exactly the distinction I’m talking about.

I grew up in the ‘90s. I love nostalgia. Show me a familiar character or play the right theme song, and you’ve probably got my attention.

But nostalgia can get people through the door.

It can’t do all the work once they’re inside.

Eventually, I want a story that gives me something new to care about.

If the most exciting thing about a new show is the possibility that somebody from the old show might appear, that’s a storytelling problem.

The Paper gives its new cast room to earn our attention.

And I wish more franchises trusted their audiences enough to do the same.

A Happy Ending Doesn’t Mean Nothing Bad Can Ever Happen Again

I can already hear the counterargument.

“Well, life doesn’t always have happy endings.”

That’s true.

And some sequels absolutely should revisit old characters and show how they’ve changed.

Sometimes a tragic continuation is exactly the right creative choice.

But tragedy isn’t automatically more mature than happiness.

And undoing a happy ending isn’t automatically a bold storytelling decision.

Sometimes it’s simply the easiest way to recreate the conflict that made the original successful.

The heroes defeated the evil empire?

Bring back a new evil empire.

The couple finally got together?

Break them up.

The hero found peace?

Make them bitter and isolated.

We’ve created a sequel.

But have we actually moved the story forward?

Or did we just reset everything so we could tell a familiar story again?

You can create new problems without erasing old accomplishments.

You can introduce new heroes without diminishing the previous ones.

And you can explore the consequences of an earlier victory without deciding that victory was meaningless.

Sometimes the Best Thing You Can Do Is Leave the Ending Alone

I don’t think every franchise needs to stop after one great ending.

I love revisiting fictional worlds.

There are plenty of universes I’d happily spend more time in.

But I wish studios were more willing to explore those worlds without reopening every finished character arc.

That’s why I appreciate what The Paper is doing.

It doesn’t ask us to forget the ending of The Office.

It simply finds another corner of the same universe and tells us a new story.

And whether someone loves The Paper as much as The Office is almost beside the point.

It has the opportunity to stand on its own.

That’s what I wish Star Wars had done.

Give me a galaxy 100 years after Luke.

Let the original characters become legends. Let their accomplishments matter.

Then introduce me to people I’ve never met, places I’ve never seen, and conflicts that aren’t just another version of the ones we already resolved.

Sometimes, the most respectful thing a sequel can do is recognize that the original story already gave us something special.

A new story doesn’t need to destroy an old happy ending to earn its own.

And if the only way to make us care about your sequel is to ruin the lives of the characters we already loved?

Maybe you should have started with a better sequel.