Jupiter Ascending (2015): The Arc That Could Have Been

When Jupiter Ascending was first announced, expectations soared. A big-budget, original sci-fi epic from the Wachowskis — the visionary minds behind The Matrix — was rare in a landscape saturated with sequels, reboots, and comic book franchises. With its sprawling galactic dynasties, lavish visuals, and a star-studded cast, it had all the ingredients to be the next space opera phenomenon.

Instead, it crashed under the weight of its own ambition.

Critics called it convoluted, messy, and hollow. Audiences found it difficult to follow, emotionally distant, and ultimately forgettable. And while the movie has since found a small cult following, it never lived up to its potential. Beneath the noise, there was a decent story — clever sci-fi concepts about reincarnation, genetic dynasties, and the commodification of life — but that story never found its footing.

And at the heart of that failure was one fatal flaw: Jupiter Jones herself.

A Hero With No Journey

Jupiter is introduced as a humble maid, scrubbing toilets and resenting her life. But rather than being bitter or restless, she’s strangely… gracious. Humble, kind, self-effacing — already displaying the maturity and wisdom of someone who’s supposedly going to grow. When she learns she’s not only special, but the genetic reincarnation of a space queen and rightful owner of Earth, she reacts with mild confusion, but little conflict. She declines a throne she didn’t ask for, gets whisked from place to place, and mostly lets others explain what’s happening.

The issue isn’t that she’s unlikable — it’s that she’s underwritten. She’s passive, reactive, and never really seems to want anything, which makes it hard to invest in her journey. Her character arc is essentially flat. There’s no temptation, no internal struggle, and no transformation.

In a genre that thrives on evolution — Luke learning the Force, Neo waking up from the Matrix, even Sarah Connor becoming the warrior her future demands — Jupiter doesn’t evolve. She just floats through.

What Her Arc Should Have Been

There’s a version of Jupiter Ascending that could have worked beautifully. And it starts by flipping Jupiter’s starting point.

Instead of being humble and kind, Jupiter should begin the story resentful and selfish. Not cartoonishly evil — just a person beaten down by life, desperate for more. She hates her job. She envies the rich. She dreams of luxury. She’s tired of being invisible and underappreciated.

So when someone tells her she’s galactic royalty? That she owns a planet and is heir to unimaginable wealth and power? She wants it. She grabs it. She believes she deserves it.

This version of Jupiter would enter the world of the Abrasax siblings not as an outsider, but as someone who resonates with their twisted values. She’d feel at home with their decadence, their obsession with power, their casual disregard for “lesser” lives. For a while, she might even start to become one of them.

But over time, she’d see the cost. She’d witness the exploitation behind the empire. She’d discover that the very luxury she once craved is built on suffering. And slowly, painfully, she’d begin to change.

The climax wouldn’t be about rejecting a throne she never wanted. It would be about walking away from one she once desired — and finally choosing humility, responsibility, and connection over control.

In the end, she wouldn’t just inherit the Earth. She’d become one with it. Grounded. Human. Changed.

Why It Matters

Great sci-fi stories don’t just wow us with visuals or elaborate lore — they anchor us with human truth. They give us heroes who reflect our flaws and show us how to rise above them.

The tragedy of Jupiter Ascending is that it had the ingredients. The bones of an epic were all there — vast empires, moral complexity, even a spiritual subtext about identity and value. But without a strong, evolving character at the center, it never landed.

If Jupiter had truly changed — if she had started selfish and learned selflessness through loss, through temptation, through revelation — she could have been one of the great sci-fi heroines.

Instead, we got a queen with no crown, no fire, and no journey.

Thank you for reading and following! 🙂

Ira

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