A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
I was a Star Wars fan. Not just your average, run-of-the-mill fan, I was a zealot. Star Wars consumed most of my waking thoughts. I ate, drank and breathed Star Wars. I read the novels, bought the magazines, owned the action figures, wore the clothes, listened to the music, played the video games, and of course, watched the movies ad nauseam. I was a walking encyclopedia of Star Wars knowledge and trivia. I could tell you the name, race and home planet of any given alien in the cantina. I could tell you how many turbo laser batteries were standard on a Victory class Star Destroyer. In Short, Star Wars was my life.
Then, something happened. Something I never expected. George Lucas lost his mind. I had looked up to George, written papers about him for school. I wanted to be like him. Then one day he just started doing crazy things. At first, I wouldn't allow myself to see it. My Star Wars mania was such that I could not allow my brain to process the notion that George was not the master of all things that I had built him up to be in my mind. So it was that I fooled myself into thinking that the changes to the Original Trilogy (Hereafter referred to as the OT) that he made for "The Special Editions" (hereafter referred to as the SE's) were bearable. However, as the years ticked away, I began to lose faith. More and more, the books I read fell flat, the rumors I heard left me uninspired, and the more I watched the SE's, the more I realized that George had lost his artistic direction.
Still, I clung to my Star Wars fandom like a security blanket, smothering my fears with it. So it was that I waited in line for 3 days to see the premiere of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. I'll not mince words, I loved it. I loved it so much that I went on to see it in the theaters another 12 times after my initial viewing. Even after that first showing though, I had this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me I didn't really like the film. I chocked it up to hype. I told myself "no film can live up to the hype that surrounded the release of Episode I" and that thought comforted me. I was wrong. It wasn't the hype. It was the movie. My next 2 viewings of the film saw it rise in my esteem. The third viewing was, for me, the zenith. I could successfully ignore Jar Jar and Anakin, catch all the visual details I had missed on the previous 2 viewings, and grasp the fullness of the story without becoming confused by the flurry of on-screen activity. After that 3rd screening, each subsequent screening started the slow, inevitable slide downhill. By my 13th and final screening, I had come to the unpleasant conclusion that, this was not a terribly good Star Wars movie.
Several years later, Attack of the clones hit the theaters. I went in with low expectations, very low... I came out disappointed. I came out with the certain knowledge that even if Episode III was the greatest film in the history of time, it couldn't redeem the previous 2. Had TPM just been a single mis-step, and AOTC had made up for it, the PT would be salvageable. As it stands now, the PT as they exist today, are not a part of my "Personal Cannon".
We are less than 90 days away from the Premier of "Star Wars Episode III: A Very Big Explosion" and honestly, I'm dreading it. I think the best we can really hope for is some sweet space battles and some nice lightsaber duels. I hope I'm wrong, but my understanding of what's in store for us leads me to believe these films are gonna blow somethin' fierce. And not in that awesome way that those particularly friendly ladies do, but in that nasty way that destructive windstorms and flatulent geriatrics do.
I was a Star Wars fan. Not just your average, run-of-the-mill fan, I was a zealot. Star Wars consumed most of my waking thoughts. I ate, drank and breathed Star Wars. I read the novels, bought the magazines, owned the action figures, wore the clothes, listened to the music, played the video games, and of course, watched the movies ad nauseam. I was a walking encyclopedia of Star Wars knowledge and trivia. I could tell you the name, race and home planet of any given alien in the cantina. I could tell you how many turbo laser batteries were standard on a Victory class Star Destroyer. In Short, Star Wars was my life.
Then, something happened. Something I never expected. George Lucas lost his mind. I had looked up to George, written papers about him for school. I wanted to be like him. Then one day he just started doing crazy things. At first, I wouldn't allow myself to see it. My Star Wars mania was such that I could not allow my brain to process the notion that George was not the master of all things that I had built him up to be in my mind. So it was that I fooled myself into thinking that the changes to the Original Trilogy (Hereafter referred to as the OT) that he made for "The Special Editions" (hereafter referred to as the SE's) were bearable. However, as the years ticked away, I began to lose faith. More and more, the books I read fell flat, the rumors I heard left me uninspired, and the more I watched the SE's, the more I realized that George had lost his artistic direction.
Still, I clung to my Star Wars fandom like a security blanket, smothering my fears with it. So it was that I waited in line for 3 days to see the premiere of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. I'll not mince words, I loved it. I loved it so much that I went on to see it in the theaters another 12 times after my initial viewing. Even after that first showing though, I had this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me I didn't really like the film. I chocked it up to hype. I told myself "no film can live up to the hype that surrounded the release of Episode I" and that thought comforted me. I was wrong. It wasn't the hype. It was the movie. My next 2 viewings of the film saw it rise in my esteem. The third viewing was, for me, the zenith. I could successfully ignore Jar Jar and Anakin, catch all the visual details I had missed on the previous 2 viewings, and grasp the fullness of the story without becoming confused by the flurry of on-screen activity. After that 3rd screening, each subsequent screening started the slow, inevitable slide downhill. By my 13th and final screening, I had come to the unpleasant conclusion that, this was not a terribly good Star Wars movie.
Several years later, Attack of the clones hit the theaters. I went in with low expectations, very low... I came out disappointed. I came out with the certain knowledge that even if Episode III was the greatest film in the history of time, it couldn't redeem the previous 2. Had TPM just been a single mis-step, and AOTC had made up for it, the PT would be salvageable. As it stands now, the PT as they exist today, are not a part of my "Personal Cannon".
We are less than 90 days away from the Premier of "Star Wars Episode III: A Very Big Explosion" and honestly, I'm dreading it. I think the best we can really hope for is some sweet space battles and some nice lightsaber duels. I hope I'm wrong, but my understanding of what's in store for us leads me to believe these films are gonna blow somethin' fierce. And not in that awesome way that those particularly friendly ladies do, but in that nasty way that destructive windstorms and flatulent geriatrics do.
subrosa:
Pretty much the only reason I'm looking forward to Ep. III is to see Obi Wan beat the holy hell out of Hayden Christiansen. He was SO F'N BAD in Ep. II... all I could think while watching it was that I couldn't wait to see him get the shit kicked out of him and left for dead.