"Only A Sith Deals In Absolutes"

The lights dimmed at 12:05pm this afternoon. There were previews, there was a new Fandango ad, and then…

…20th Century Fox…

…Lucasfilm Ltd…

…A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

What followed was twenty minutes straight of spectacle, seen through the delicious lens of the Jedi character. It was…

Let me say this: the most remarkable thing about that film, the thing that separates it from Lucas’s last two horrific offerings, is that it is its own film. It does not waste time attempting to convince you that this is a Star Wars film, and thus worthy of your respect. It does not kneel and grovel at your feet, begging you to approve of it’s merits. It does not, as the other two films may have, leave many (this one included) angered that such damage could be done to such a beautiful thing.

Instead, it sets about telling you this story about how this boy, this poor, defeated, stupid boy, brought about the downfall of the Jedi, and became the world’s greatest villain. And that’s really all it seems to be trying to do.

It’s such a relief. I can barely express it, so huge is the sense of a great evil avoided. You’d have to have been with me in the car, driving back after the show, and heard my (admittedly embarassing) exclamations of joy and satisfaction. He didn’t fuck it up.

At least, he didn’t fuck it up very much.

Must admit, there were a few stingers in there. Damn it, George, if you ever try to write a love scene again, we’re going to raise placards and granola-eating groups of resisters to try and stop you in the Senate. There ought to be a law against tripe that foul.

Hooo. Yeah, that was bad.

But, blessedly brief, when compared to the other films. In fact, Attach of the Clones so completely scarred me that these little pricks of painful melodrama seemed light and playful, almost like George reminding you of how bad it could have been. But, just when you begin to black out from the pain, we’re back in space, and blowing things up with abandon, and watching the Emperor do his thing, and it’s all okay.

There were, in fact, several moments of utter brilliance in the film. And, so completely unmarred were they by any horrible madness that they shone, shone in their full glory.

I believed it. I would maybe had preferred he gone left instead of right here and there, but by golly, I believed it. I didn’t think I would, and had convinced myself that I didn’t care.

Thank you, George. Thank you for all of them, even the bad ones. You’ve done us all a great service, and we deeply and humbly thank you.

Don’t ever fuck it up again.

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