The names of the people and places of business in this blog have been changed to protect their identities.
I had made up my mind. I was not going to see this movie. I couldn't subject myself to this abomination that Star Wars had become. I was done. By the time this movie came out in 2005, I could legally drink. Who the hell needs Star Wars when you've got beer? If not for a guy named "Bert," I never would have seen this movie.
I had recently started working at a place called "Ice Cream Ninjas." My friend "BohDoy" had gotten me the job. "Bert" was our boss. He was (and still is) a huge nerd. "BohDoy" and I, huge nerds ourselves, were working late on May 18, 2005. "Bert" comes through the door just as we were finishing up and getting ready to leave. He just happens to have a whole bunch of extra tickets to the midnight showing. What were we supposed to do, say no? There was a quick meal of "Gas In A Tortilla," followed by mocking the "Raskin-Bobbins" girl, it was showtime.
I went into this movie knowing in my heart of hearts that it was going to be horrid, and guess what? I was right. However, this movie is by far the best of the prequels. There's not much to say generally about this film that I haven't already stated. Horrible writing, horrible directing, George Lucas is crazy, etc. Nevertheless, there are some specifics I'd like to discuss.
I'm not sure if the makeup guy, the lighting guy, or both are to blame, but Natalie Portman looked awful through this entire movie. She looked like a crack addict who couldn't put her makeup on properly. I understand that they were shooting for the "healthy pregnant glow" look, but they missed.
General Greivous: The part-man, part-machine bad guy. Come on, George. Would it seriously hurt you to have a new idea?
Again, the Christensen-Portman dynamic is in full form. But, the blame must not be placed solely on the actors. It has to be hard to act seriously when reading such intricately woven words as, "I don't even know who you are anymore," or "you're breaking my heart!" Mr. Lucas, you really should have gotten someone else to write and direct these movies. You had the right idea, you just did it the wrong way. Plus, you couldn't write romantic dialogue to save your life.
R.I.P. Mace Windu. Why is it always the black Jedi that gets electrocuted and thrown out of a window?
Why was the "birth" of Darth Vader exactly the same as the "birth" of Frankenstein? I'm obviously not talking about the scene where the Emperor tells Anakin, "You're name is Darth Vader now." Darth Vader is the guy in the suit, not Hayden Christensen looking all emo and angry. Just ask David Prowse.
So, the first Death Star took twenty years to build, but the second one took two weeks. That makes perfect sense. Here's my imaginary conversation with George where it tries to explain it to me.
GL: You see, they were building two at the same time.
Me: The Emperor needed two ultimate weapons of mass destuction?
GL: Well, he could see into the future, so he knew that the first one would be destroyed.
Me: Then why not just plug the damn 'insert proton torpedos here' hole and not waste resources on building another planet-sized space station? Furthermore, why didn't he foresee the second one blowing up and get the hell out of there?
GL: Maybe he did. I could still make Episodes VII, VIII, and IX.
Me: NOOOOOOOOO!
That's it! That's just about everything I have to say about Star Wars. Actually, it's not even close to everything, but I've gone on for too long. Goodbye Star Wars. You died with my childhood. Now it's time to get back to the important things, like how to rid the world of drunk driving forever.
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