Are you ready for the new Star Wars movies? Were you ready for the prequels? Or does your spacefaring heart beat only for the original trilogy?
You see, something weird happened to me. Something which may cause me to lift the ban preventing the prequel movies from getting within 100 feet of my house.
And lest you think this is just some tired old rant, this little blog series will include interviews with Bryan Young (recognized guru and Con fixture who writes for starwars.com), Mark Fordham (Darth Vader’s clone), and Jessica Champneys (an uber-UBER-fan). These revelations may greatly affect your adventures—past and future—in that galaxy far far away.
Read on, all ye padawans an jedi alike…
When I first saw The Phantom Menace, I was on an awkward date so I don’t have an unfettered recollection of my feelings about the movie. But I liked the podrace and the duel with Darth Maul. I do remember shivering with disgust and nearly losing my popcorn at the word: midi-chlorians. My experience with Attack of the Clowns is more vivid. At the end of the movie, I got up in the theater and said in a loud voice, “That man has no business making movies!” Thus prepared for Revenge of the Sith, I rolled my eyes and chuckled at the wooden drama, ludicrous motivations, and general impotence as a precursor to one of the greatest movies ever made, Star Wars: A New Hope. I could not help laughing out loud at the epic ineptitude in storytelling art when Darth Vader screams, “Nooooooooo!”
(Please note that I’m talking about the story and silliness of these movies. I applaud the many hundreds of brilliant artists and technicians who worked on them.)
Now, before I detail my semi-repentance, let me review my credentials as a Star Wars fan.
I can quote much of the original trilogy from memory. I was dressing up as Luke for Halloween long before most prequel fans were born. My house is the repository for an arsenal of light sabers. I made a fanfilm 15 years before YouTube was invented (starring as Princess Leia). I credit Star Wars for guiding my career destiny more than almost any other thing, and I revere much of what George Lucas added to the movie industry. I threw a rite-of-passage Star Wars birthday party for my kids that would put hair on a bald Wookie’s chest. I was cast as the star of an ambitious Star Wars fan film. It was never completed, but it was not due to my lack of Jedi training.
Because I invested so much of my heart into the original Star Wars series, I felt terribly betrayed by the prequels. But something has changed…
You see, I’ve been carpooling with a young and impressionable sci-fi and fantasy fan who loves EVERYTHING Star Wars, to the point of dangerous zeal.
Every time I would present a clearly balanced argument of logic about how stupid something was in one of the prequels, she would counter with: “But in the book it makes more sense…” or “Well that really worked for me…” and again “But in the book…” She bounced along to Star Wars-inspired rock opera as we drove and she reveled in her flights of fancy into something called the “Expanded Universe.”
Suddenly, on my dozenth attempt to rescue her from ignorant bliss, I discovered something. It was like Jabba’s fist smacked me and I saw new stars…