Revenge of an angry fan

I was so excited about the opening of Star Wars Episode 1 that I drove from Iowa to Denver to meet my friend Payjeck who was coming from Salt Lake City so we could see the show together. Star Wars had a critical impact on our childhood. George Lucas creating new movies gave us the chance to leap back fifteen years and revisit our childhood.

You can't go home again.

To say the Phantom Menace was a disappointment doesn't really begin to describe the abject despair we felt. The worst thing was, it didn't sink in right away. We actually saw the movie three times, perhaps out of a sense of desperation. Surely, it'll be better this time. Unfortunately, Jar Jar was still there every time. And they were still babbling about midichlorians. Still, I decided to give Lucas the benefit of the doubt. I'll check out the second movie and see if it was better. After all, Empire Strikes Back was the best of the original movies. Surely the sequel would be better.

Hah.

Attack of the Clones? What kind of title is that? Sounds like a Barbra Streisand song gone bad. That movie was worse than the first. And I came to a disturbing conclusion - Lucas was the type of director who coaxed bad performances from otherwise extremely talented actors. Sam Jackson, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman... these people have talent. Under Lucas' direction, they appeared as cardboard cutouts.

And now we have Revenge of the Sith. I just watched the trailer. It looks good. Those bastards can put together a good trailer, I'll give 'em that. It's dark. It'll be the first PG-13 Star Wars movie. I'll still see the damn thing. Maybe it'll be halfway decent. Lord knows my expectations couldn't be any lower.

Why see it? Well. You see. I still have this tiny glimmer of ... hope. I want it to be good. I want that so badly. So I hope, as I'm sitting there in the dark theater, I'll feel just a touch of that wide eyed excitement that fuled my imagination as a child.

But I'm not counting on it.