Jyn felt rejected by her father because she was too young to grasp the sacrifice he made to protect her, and subsequent life she was forced into never left her with the opportunity to process it properly. She tried to prop up Saw as a father figure for a time, but she eventually recognized that his cause was more important to him than she was, which she interpreted as a negative similarity to her father (despite that being a misinterpretation of her father). In her brief encounter with her father, she finally put the pieces together and realized the magnitude what he’d been forced to do for her. Her conflict is the classic human struggle of wanting to shed the vulnerability of a person’s constantly unfulfilled desire to have a purpose and belong somewhere. In the end, she found a place, she found her people, and she found her purpose.
Cassian believed in the cause so much he was willing to sacrifice his own conscience to get the job done. This made him cold and untrusting of outsiders, especially to the daughter of the Death Star’s architect. Most importantly, this meant that he would always hate a part of himself for the things he’d done. His first scene illustrates this pretty well. In his final moments, his embrace with Jyn represents the fulfillment of everything he’d sacrificed for.
Chirrut truly believed in the Force in a galaxy that nearly left it behind. He was born too late, and would seemingly never get to fulfill his likely potential as a very skilled Jedi. Underneath his deceptively calm and almost cheery demeanor is a subtle sadness in knowing this. He wasn’t afraid when he faced his end, however, because he realized his true potential when it presented itself. His was probably the happiest ending.
Baze, as Chirrut’s closest friend, put on a tough exterior, but saw this sadness in his friend and, in a way, took the weight of it onto his own shoulders not just as a physical protector, but also as an emotional one. When Chirrut was gone, he hadn’t failed. He’d succeeded in accompanying his friend to the very moment the Force had guided them toward.
Saw was so committed to the cause that it consumed him. He was a vision of what men like Cassian could become, tragic (dis)figures that show the human cost of the Empire’s tyranical rule over the galaxy. While the Empire killed countless many, those left behind were in some ways the unlucky ones.
Bodhi was the man who’s conscience and empathy overcame his fear. And he was very, very afraid, because he knew more than most the danger he was undertaking. His constantly apparent and palpable fear is what made him brave. Despite every shaking instinct in his body, he pushed forward toward doing the right thing, even though it was terrifying. But in that last blink, he didn’t recoil. He knew he’d done everything he could do, and the rest was up to the others.
Krennic is the most humanized Imperial officer in the cinematic saga. He wanted respect and recognition. He writhed under the thumb of Tarkin, who deep down he knew was smarter and more ruthless than he could ever hope to be. Every choice he made came from this insecurity, every act a desperate attempt to change his fate. In his final moment, he knew his deepest fears were real. He just wasn’t good enough, and Tarkin had won the game.
K-2SO, in a similar way, was the most humanized droid in the saga. While C-3PO and R2-D2 were almost elemental in their consistency throughout three trilogies, K-2 had an actual arc. His attitude at first mirrored that of his “master” Cassian (partner, really), jaded and untrusting, though unlike Cassian, he presented himself as more self-serving, making detached quips about essentially being a slave. In the end, however, he made his own choice, and it was a selfless choice to sacrifice himself to the cause, or perhaps more importantly, to the humans he’d come to share a purpose with.
I’m really tired of the parroted schtick that Rogue One had forgettable or hollow characters. I think that particular line of criticism says more about the viewer than it does about the movie.