3x10 Identity Crisis

[7.9/10] A funny thing happens as you get older. Children stop being peers. They stop being those bratty things you have to put up with as a teenager. They’re no longer the little ones you see, but aren’t really responsible for as a young adult.

And somewhere along the line, they start becoming these small people that you need to protect, to look out for, to support, to nurture. You recognize, in a way that's hard when you’re younger, how vulnerable they are, how much they depend on the folks who’ve been through the wringer and know the perils of the world to make sure they’re okay.

Kids are not naive innocents. They have the same vibrance and diversity of thought and feeling and attitude their grown-up counterparts do. But they need help, your help, and that realization is humbling and more than a little scary.

Which is all to say that “Identity Crisis” hits harder when you realize you’re no longer a ten-year-old imagining what it’d be like to be Luke Skywalker hacking and slashing through stormtroopers, and instead, you’re a crusty old grown-up struck by what it’d be like to be the Luke Skywalker who’s been entrusted to look after his nephew and see that he goes down the right path.

I assumed that what lie behind the trooper-protected doors of “The Vault” was something expected: a bunch of jars of pickled Snokes, a few budding attempts at cloning Palpatine, maybe a few more deformed Clone Troopers or something. The last thing I expected was a small collection of imprisoned children, and it draws out the evil of the Empire in a way that few things could.

This is one of the more harrowing episodes of The Bad Batch. I can easily stand blaster fire and dogfights among commandos. I can readily handle life-or-death fights between good guys and bad guys, even if feisty Omega is in the fray. What’s harder to withstand is a toddler, who weeps without his plushy, being torn from his mother. What’s more difficult to stomach is seeing young force-sensitives imprisoned, who only want to return home, and are treated like indifferent property rather than people.

It’s devastating to watch, and The Bad Batch is counting on that. This is (I think?) the first episode of the show that doesn’t feature a single moment of Omega or Clone Force 99. This is all about Emerie Karr stepping into a bigger role and realizing the horrors it would require of her. It is seeing the depths of what she’s participating in, trying to suck it up and do her job, only for her to be moved by the plight of the young souls she’s supposed to treat like chattel.

There is great power in that. “Identity Crisis” has some cool moments for longtime fans. Tarkin’s appearances are always a pip. The back channel negotiations and rivalries of Imperial politics always intrigues. We learn that Omega isn’t necessarily a force-sensitive herself, but rather her genetic material can act as a “binder” for DNA from other force-sensitives, which is a welcome swerve. And The return of Cad Bane and Todo is always a plus. (I should have known Bane was in the offing once I heard Seth Green voice one of the random villagers.)

But for the most part, this is a more stark story, about someone recognizing the abject cruelty they’re a part of, and not being able to turn their heart away from it once they do. The callousness with which Dr. Hemlock encourages Dr. Karr not to become attached to tiny people asking for help and solace, the casual dispassion with how Cad Bane kidnaps a child and practically taunts Emerie for asking too many questions, all reveal a rot in the soul that must have taken hold for someone to be so unconcerned with the welfare of blameless children caught up in the machinery of the Empire.

Not for nothing, there’s a political charge to this story. It is hard to see children ripped from their parents, families ratted out by opportunistic neighbors, and most pointedly, kids in cages, without thinking about the current moment. The Bad Batch is not the first show to suggest a regime is evil by treating young ones this way, but it comes with extra bite in the wake of American policies that are not so different.

The message here is affecting -- that it’s hard for anyone with a heart not to be moved by such terrible things being visited upon little people who don’t deserve it. Dr. Karr wanting to step up, to replace Nala Se, only to see what the Kaminoan saw and realize why she did what she did, makes her change of heart palpable and meaningful.

Because she sees little Jax try desperately to escape and be harshly stopped and punished; she sees little Eva ask plaintively when she gets to go home; she sees a small infant torn from its mother whose tender age is treated like a boon to compliance, not a crime against an innocent, and cannot help but care.

I still love the stories of heroes choosing good with lightsabers and magic powers. I still love badasses leaping through the galaxy and fighting for the good. But the more real acts of evil, and more mundane acts of kindness move me more these days. And all the more, I understand how what could turn your heart, are these tiny beings who need your help, and witnessing an institution that would ignore their suffering, or worse yet, make it the point.