Star Wars rewatch: Star Wars

NOTE: For this rewatch, I viewed the original unaltered versions of the Star Wars trilogy. There will be no discussion of the changes made to the films in the Special Editions or any later releases.

 

**SPOILERS HEREIN**

In a way, it’s easy to forget how good the original Star Wars is. 

I know, the very thought sounds absurd. It’s only the biggest movie of all time, nearly everything about it so thoroughly ingrained in our cultural vernacular. But perhaps fans who, like me, delved frequently into the now-defunct Expanded Universe know where I’m coming from. So much has sprouted from this one film that it almost seems like a small sapling in a dense forest of mythology (not to mention the tons and tons of merchandise of all kinds). Even in the context of just the movies, its own sequels feature much more significant events, both for the main characters and the larger galactic conflict, that arguably overshadow what’s in this movie.

For these reasons, the initial film always feels new and fresh upon revisiting, and also disconnected by itself. It’s less concerned with planting seeds for future stories than whatever perils lie down the next Death Star corridor. Such makes it practically a relic in this age of long-term franchise building (to which even this series isn’t immune). Yet on the contrary, it has an outside-of-time quality that very few films achieve, as enjoyable today as the first time you saw it in the theater (or, in my case, on a scratchy VHS from Blockbuster). What elevates it so isn’t its timeless archetypes, cherished characters, or childhood nostalgia, though all certainly contribute to its beloved status. But underneath all of that, it still works after nearly four decades because it’s a tremendously well-made picture in every aspect.

For one, it's a masterpiece of editing. Every action sequence is a tightly-packed, flawlessly constructed gem of different shots, angles, and effects. Before the movie kicks into gear in the second act, each scene of exposition still has a forward momentum, succinctly but clearly laying down the situation for viewers without dragging (a skill that would elude some further Star Wars films). The whole thing is practically a master course in pacing.

It’s also a masterwork of sounds. John Williams’ score is more than just iconic; the music instills energy, adrenaline, and emotion into every scene as much as the editing I just mentioned. Credit is also due to Ben Burtt for creating an array of sound effects so vivid and real (which, also, are flawlessly edited into the mix). Think about it: how many sounds from that galaxy far, far away are as instantly familiar as the things we hear in our daily lives? At the very least, they’re as recognizable as the music.

And of course, the special effects are still so impressive, even though standard CGI passed them up a long time ago. Actually, it’s more convincing than digital effects in a way. Even with the best CGI, we know when we’re seeing a computer creation, as it’s almost always unnaturally shiny and fluorescent. These old-fashioned hand-built models take up space, get dirty, and reflect natural light. True, a few shots here and there are static and obvious, but the majority are convincing and thrilling (and again, the editing keeps the so-so shots short and the action moving).

But, for all the spectacular sensory experience, it wouldn’t be the classic that it is without its characters. Sure, the three main leads are clearly a little green and inexperienced, but that just makes them more real and relatable. As Luke Skywalker, Mark Hamill is believable as a regular dreamer we’ve all felt like at some point in our youth. Though he handles himself better than most viewers probably would in the face of danger, he never loses his everyman quality. Harrison Ford’s near-humorous attempt to imbue Han Solo with an anti-heroism actually works in the character’s favor. It’s clear from the start it’s all a façade, that he’s really got a good heart and is on our side. As Princess Leia, Carrie Fisher admittedly doesn’t veer too far out of the footsteps of the damsel in distress archetype, but at least she’s got personality, and gets to share in the smart-alecky banter and participate in the action once she’s rescued. And C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) provide the right amount of comic relief without overstaying their welcome or getting in the way. No one thinks twice about it now because the bickering droids are sci-fi icons, but it’s a testament to the work of the actors, as well as the costume and effects designers, that they made expressionless, technically non-living objects (one of whom only beeps, no less) into fully developed and beloved characters.

Excellent, too, are the two Brit greats in supporting roles. Alec Guinness gives a legitimacy to the whole narrative as Obi-Wan Kenobi simply by his presence and the conviction in his delivery (he was quite the actor because you can’t tell a bit from his performance that he hated the picture). And yeah, Darth Vader (David Prowse) is cool and certainly more famous, but he’s more of a henchman here to the real bad guy: Peter Cushing’s Grand Moff Tarkin. The horror legend is at his scene-chewing best, personifying a mannered and sinister Imperial aesthetic (both of the Empire in the Star Wars saga and the then-not-too-distant colonial powers I’m sure the character brought to mind in some viewers).

Beginning the moment the Millennium Falcon blasts out of Mos Eisley, the film crescendos with every new Stormtrooper encounter and Death Star chase or shootout, each one more exciting than the last. But the Death Star trench run at the end is something else, maybe the greatest action sequence ever constructed. The music is certainly the best piece in the entire saga (yes, better than even the main theme or the "Imperial March"), comprising every possible emotional high and low. It’s here the fantastic editing (I hate to beat a dead horse, but Richard Chew, Paul Hirsch, and Marcia Lucas did such a damn fine job) shines brightest, turning the chaos of explosions and special effects shots into a coherent and thrilling ride. More than just wowing the viewer with its flash, however, shots of the fighters’ cockpits add an intimate dramatic tension to the whole assault. Luke being the hero, much of this focus is on Hamill, whose arc as Force prodigy X-Wing pilot is highly exciting and emotionally satisfying. However, praise is due to all the Rebel pilot players. Particularly notable is Drewe Henley as Garven Dreis, the doomed Red Leader. One of the great underrated performances in the whole franchise, Henley’s icy determination unraveling moment-by-moment is captivating. His restrained intensity is so palpable that when he misses the Death Star exhaust port, then gets shot down, there’s a devastating pathos that’s almost equal to the victorious ecstasy when Luke succeeds in saving the day. I hope Dreis gets his due in Rogue One next year, or another spinoff after that (same goes for Denis Lawson’s Wedge Antilles, a major character in the EU but always second fiddle on film).

The film’s production and technical brilliance is much, much greater than that in the old sci-fi adventure serials that inspired it. But it’s a lot closer to those works (or the full serial mode of George Lucas’ Indiana Jones series the following decade) than any of its deeper-plotted sequels, prequels, or written spinoffs, in tone and plain old great fun. The greatest moment in the Star Wars saga was still yet to come (we’ll get to that next week), but for sheer breathless, wall-to-wall enjoyment, nothing yet released in the series (and few works outside of it) tops the 1977 original.

Creed

Mock the series all you want for often straying into hokey schmaltz and not throwing in the towel after nearly 40 years and now seven movies. But there’s no denying the Rocky formula works. Maybe a little too well. It’s so effective that it’s defined the uplifting underdog genre almost completely. Short of going the completely downbeat and unsentimental Raging Bull route, just about every fight film inevitably draws comparison to the series and gets stuck in its shadow. 

Creed certainly tries to break away, despite continuing the Rocky mythology and featuring Sylvester Stallone’s most famous character. There are only snippets from the famous theme, the film instead opting for a more hip-hop-infused soundtrack. Director Ryan Coogler eschews the series’ cheesy montage style for a naturalistic and unadorned aesthetic (similar to his fantastic, tragic Fruitvale Station), even during his own montages. It’s a cogent take on the material, no doubt, but it’s still the same material underneath it all. While that doesn’t suck a bit of enjoyment from the whole thing, this movie’s decidedly not the mold-breaker it's trying to be.

The film stars Michael B. Jordan as Adonis Johnson, the illegitimate son of Carl Weathers’ deceased champ Apollo Creed. Taken in from the juvenile system and raised by Apollo’s widow (Phylicia Rashad), “Donnie” has a regular job in finance and a presumably decent existence. But in spite of this, the young man possesses the need to fight, taking part in underground boxing matches in Mexico in his free time. With no one else taking his pursuit seriously, he travels from Los Angeles to Philadelphia to convince the retired, lonely Rocky Balboa to train him.

Jordan has a strong charisma, convincing as a physical specimen and hinting at a determined rage that drives him. Unfortunately, the movie never takes the step into grittier or moodier territory, despite looking like it will several times. It’s like the picture’s playing it safe, avoiding too far a deviation from the mass appeal feel-good path instead of challenging the audience. The lack of more intense story turns isn’t bad, but it frankly makes a few scenes where Jordan’s anger boils over seem out of place and a little forced.

He’s much better, however, with one of the hallmarks of the franchise's best entries. Before the series turned into a montage and cliché factory (and its own formula became cliché) in the 1980s, the earliest installments took plenty of time away from the ring and the gyms. Following the characters in their daily lives, these scenes showed that they’re real people, not invincible Hollywood heroes (even though Rocky Balboa would eventually become just that). This made the outcomes even more inspiring because it underlined the underdog element. Creed features such scenes, as Rocky, Donnie, and his musician neighbor played by Tessa Thompson form a little family unit. Here, Jordan is a natural, sweet, funny, and vulnerable depending on the moment.

It’s also here that Stallone shines in his best role in a while. Far from the heroic, chiseled warrior from the old movies (or even the great-for-his-age shape of Rocky Balboa nine years ago), this Rocky is a man broken by both physical trauma and his losses in life, only his spirit and pride holding him together. And try as he might, he’s not good at hiding his anguish. It’s a masterful display of subtlety, transmitting heavy emotions with simple physicality or mumbly mashes of monologue, the latter of which are played much less for humor than they were before. As with Jordan, this element of the film never quite goes as far as it could (this is Rocky, after all, so it's probably foolish to expect anything but a happy ending), but it’s nonetheless quite affecting.

So, it’s an average Rocky movie. But then again, it is a Rocky movie. I mean, have you seen any of these things? Even when they’re bad (and the series sank pretty low with IV and V), it’s simply not possible to sit through a whole one of them without getting caught up in everything. Even if you don’t want to admit it outwardly, you know you’re cheering on the inside during the fights.

In fact, that’s one area where Creed is above average, with two bouts that are standouts in the series. One is a splendid long take that gets us inches from the fighters while also managing to catch every element in the area, from the corner men to the crowd reaction. And the main event, pitting Jordan against real boxer Tony Bellew, condenses a 12-round fight into a manageable movie sequence without resorting to a tired montage. Rather, it’s superbly cut and edited as a continuous and thrilling battle, never missing a beat between rounds or when it’s time for the given inspirational moment, and not once giving viewers the feeling that even a single punch has been skipped over. Both fights are terrific, and also more realistic and bloody than anything previously seen in any Rocky. If only the rest of the picture had that same grit.

Star Wars rewatch: Revenge of the Sith

**SPOILERS HEREIN**

There are two scenes in this movie that are absolutely great. In the nearly seven-hour running time of the whole prequel trilogy, there’s a grand total of two sequences that are truly well done and memorable, both in the third entry and comprising about five minutes of total screen time. That's way too little and way too late to redeem the three pictures, but I'll give credit where's it's due. Both of them are awesome.

One is the opening flyby, which starts like the original trilogy with a slow-moving starship, before two Jedi fighters fly into frame, and a pumped-up militarized version of John Williams’ Force theme starts blaring. The unbroken take zooming through a space battle nearly first-person-style, just sound effects and the epic music on the soundtrack, gets our adrenaline pumping and makes us think maybe, just maybe, we’re finally in for a good movie. Unfortunately, after a minute or so, Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) open their mouths, and instead of the prequels’ answer to the battles of Yavin and Endor, we instead get some dopey ping pong ball droid action and a mediocre rescue mission aboard Count Dooku’s (Christopher Lee) ship. But damn, is that flyby impressive. If J.J. Abrams is smart, The Force Awakens will copy the opening, music and all, only replacing the Jedi fighters with the Millennium Falcon followed by a squadron of X-Wings flying into battle. Even the most jaded and skeptical fans will be won over for all time.

The other is the Order 66 scene, where the Jedi are massacred on the various front lines across the galaxy. It’s a darker and more brutal scene than anything in Star Wars since Luke Skywalker lost his hand in the bowels of Cloud City. It’s all in the music, as Williams’ piece (one of the best in the prequel trilogy) evokes utter tragedy, and the image of Yoda (Frank Oz) staggering at the disturbance in the Force is almost powerful. Had this sequence been the climax of a good movie, it would have been absolutely heartbreaking. Alas, it’s just one great scene in a film, and trilogy, that’s not, and a regretful reminder of what we all once hoped the prequels would be.

The rest of Revenge of the Sith has all the same flaws as its two predecessors: terrible dialogue, flat acting, lifeless exposition, catastrophically bad romance, and unimaginative, piecemeal action. The narrative plays out less like an organic story than just a checklist of everything that needs to happen to set up the original trilogy. As a result, there’s no flow or consistency to the picture, and nearly every plot resolution is so fleeting and quickly left behind that none carry any dramatic weight or importance.

On top of everything already on that list—Count Dooku, the Cone Wars, the Jedi purge, the overthrow of the Republic, Anakin becoming Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia’s birth, and Obi-Wan and Yoda’s exile—the film adds another plot point and new villain: General Grievous (Matthew Wood). In the argument that George Lucas cared more about Star Wars as a moneymaking franchise than telling a quality story, this character’s a strong piece of evidence. Any casual fan who hadn’t been following the Expanded Universe or supplementary cartoons prior to the picture’s release would have seen his name in the opening crawl and had no idea who he is or what he looks like. He was also clearly designed to appeal to toy-hungry kids: in addition to having a name like a cartoon villain, he even looks like a giant plastic figure.

Even the showdown between Obi-Wan and Anakin that leaves the latter dismembered, toasted, and in need of his famous armor—the moment we've been waiting all trilogy to see, the event only spoken of in fleeting whispers up to that point and which every fan envisioned as the most epic fight imaginable—is underwhelming. Sure, the swordplay is impressive enough, but it goes on so long, becoming more and more ridiculous as the volcanic terrain gets worse and worse. If that doesn’t take you out of the scene, the awful dialogue that punctuates the action sure does (and even by the standards of the prequels, it’s particularly atrocious). And it ends on such a horrendously stupid note; apparently, regardless of your opponent’s skills as a swordsman, a weak swing of the lightsaber is all you need to render them limbless if you have “the high ground” (never mind the fact that Darth Maul clearly had the high ground on Obi-Wan in The Phantom Menace). But above all, after two and three-quarter movies of offputtingly bad characterization, it's nearly impossible to muster any emotional investment in the duel or either participants' fates.

Worst of all, the film doesn’t pay the slightest bit of fan service by introducing the iconic Darth Vader armor in an applause moment. No, it’s instead part of a weepy, somber sequence that fails to elicit any sort of feeling but tedium. Many think the infamous “No!” the dark lord bellows like a cartoon character ruins the moment (and it’s still inexcusable; what the hell were they thinking?), but it’s actually a moot complaint because the scene wasn’t the great moment it was supposed to be, anyway.

There’s little emotional reaction to be had watching Revenge of the Sith, or even much sense of satisfaction. No, the prevailing feeling is relief that it’s over, and with it the prequel trilogy. So instead of dwelling any further on the prequels, let’s just enjoy that feeling and pretend The Force Awakens is the first Star Wars movie since Return of the Jedi came out in 1983.

South Park, "Sponsored Content"

Tonight wasn’t the moment of truth for this season’s continuing narrative experiment, but it looks like that moment will be coming soon.

This one has Jimmy and PC Principal butting heads over Jimmy’s editorial sense at the school newspaper. That might have been an entertaining plot in itself. But from that simple premise, the episode builds on last week’s ending to reveal that everything this season has been part of some nefarious conspiracy involving online and embedded advertising. Also involved are the ousted Principal Victoria and the now Trump-like Mr. Garrison. And Caitlyn Jenner and Hillary Clinton are in the mix, too, apparently.

From here, the season can go either way. All the various subjects without much solid connection invites the thought of another messy conclusion like last year. On the other hand, this year’s interconnectedness has been an improvement over last year (regardless of the quality of the individual episodes). Last year’s episodes were connected by a rather loose thread before hastily trying (and failing) to tie them all together in the season finale. This year, each new episode has continued and expanded upon the main storyline to a degree. Since it’s seemingly already approaching the season's endgame on this third-to-last episode of the year, perhaps they’re also giving themselves the time they need to craft a strong finish. And the ending turn this week’s plot takes is rather interesting.

The episode was more narrative connective tissue than anything else, like the in-between episodes that bridge the ones everyone remembers in a great dramatic series. Sadly, despite the presence of Jimmy’s nemesis Nathan, we didn’t get any of the awful but very funny misfortunes to which he’s often subjected (though it offers some mean barbs at Jenner as consolation). But Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s view that well-meaning gentle and protective attitudes toward the disabled are ultimately condescending and insulting, a consistent theme in all the Jimmy and Timmy-centric episodes in the sow’s history, is as strong as ever. Come to think of it, the fact that this still seems like an edgy point to make suggests they're kind of right about oversensitivity in today’s world.

Star Wars rewatch: The Holiday Special

One of the many bootleg DVD covers

My attitude leading up to The Force Awakens has been one of cautious optimism based on one thing: nothing can possibly be worse than the prequels (and if you’ve been following this rewatch, you know I’ve got little love for them). Well, besides the fact that greater cinematic ineptitude is indeed possible, that reasoning was flawed from the get-go. There already has been one piece of Star Wars worse than the prequels. And it aired on CBS 37 years ago today, a whole 18 months before the release of The Empire Strikes Back and over two decades before The Phantom Menace.

The Star Wars Holiday Special is legendary for a few reasons, one of which is that George Lucas allegedly hates it immensely. Since it only aired once and has never been officially released on any format, it’s gained a sort of notoriety as a lost piece of 70s kitsch, something one might expect to be so-bad-it’s-hilarious. Those perpetuating this myth, however, surely have never actually sat and watched it (it’s easy to find online if you haven’t, but I’m not posting a link, both to avoid any copyright issues and to frankly spare everyone the horror). As those who have seen it know, it’s not funny at all, even the parts that were trying to be funny or sound on paper like they’d be funny. The entire thing is horrendous beyond words in any language on Earth or in the Star Wars universe, plus Klingon. It’s intensely, unremittingly painful to sit through. Even though it clocks in at less than two hours, it feels like watching one of those tortuous ten-hour repetition videos, plus the mortifying humiliation of running into your grandmother at a strip club. Even if you watch it alone, you’ll feel embarrassed.

Crusaders against the imaginary “War on Christmas” can cool their jets, for the word “holiday” in the title does not denote an early attempt at politically correct Yuletide secularization. In fact, it doesn’t refer to any Earth holiday (not even Thanksgiving, despite airing the Friday preceding it in 1978). No, it’s Life Day, the most important day of the year for Wookiees. The plot, ostensibly, is about Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) trying to get to the Wookiee home planet of Kashyyyk so the walking carpet can celebrate with his family. But they, as well as Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) and Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher), are only in a couple scenes, and are as randomly and sloppily worked in as recycled space scenes from Star Wars.

Instead, the focus is on Chewie’s family, who look like bad homemade Wookiee Halloween costumes, and much of whose screen time consists of going through the motions of a standard 50s or 60s domestic sitcom, growling at each other throughout. It’s absolutely excruciating. Interspersed are vignettes starring Art Carney as the local Kashyyyk general store owner (seriously), Harvey Korman as a few different alien characters too unconvincing for even an Ed Wood joint, and Bea Arthur tending bar (and later singing, badly) in the Mos Eisley Cantina (the joke of which, she being the only one who speaks English among the various aliens, was done many times better the year before on the late Richard Pryor’s short-lived sketch show). I guess these were aiming for comedy, but it’s hard to tell because all of them miss worse than Stormtroopers at target practice.

And oooooooh, the musical numbers! It’s typical bad variety fare meets post-hippie acid rock psychedelia, with a near-universal tone deafness made even worse by the primitive video recording quality. Most are thankfully forgettable, but two have become somewhat legendary among hardcore fans who’ve managed to sit through the whole special. One has Chewie’s dad Itchy (Paul Gale) experiencing a virtual reality embodiment of his fantasy, in the form of Diahann Carroll singing him a suggestive lullaby. It’s apparently supposed to be a lightly provocative piece of quasi-erotica, but watching it, it’s more confusing than pervy or risqué. The other has a wide-eyed, dazed Carrie Fisher singing along to the Star Wars theme, albeit a version of it slowed down to the point where you really have to listen closely to recognize it. Considering all the stories of the actress’ drug use at the time, this is just a sad and uncomfortable sight.

The big reason interest in the special has persisted is its animated interlude, which contains the first appearance of bounty hunter and fan favorite Boba Fett. But while this is by far the best part (“best” in this sense being extremely relative, like the best torture method, the best kind of bug infestation, or the best Star Wars prequel), it’s barely more than a curiosity, a footnote in Star Wars history at best. It’s not that great. The animation is of low quality even for the time (smushed faces, mouths badly synced with dialogue), and the story is like a typical cartoon of the era with all the humor and adventure cut out. Fortunately, the advent of YouTube has given Fett fans the ability to watch it on its own if they’re so compelled, because it’s certainly not worth sitting through the other 80-plus minutes of absolute crap.

Just how bad is the Holiday Special? On a quality scale ranging from it to The Empire Strikes Back, the prequels are closer to Empire. Hell, they’re closer to The Godfather than the special. Well, maybe it’s a little unfair to compare a TV program to movies, especially one from more than a generation before our current age of high-quality, almost cinematic television. So, think of the worst TV show you’ve ever seen, the cheesiest, lamest, most forced piece of garbage you ever sat through. Compared to the Holiday Special, that show’s Breaking Bad or The Wire.

Star Wars rewatch: Attack of the Clones

**SPOILERS HEREIN**

There’s debate among fans over whether The Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones is better (or worse). The point is contestable: Clones has more action sequences, but it’s also longer and has at least as much turgid politics and dialogue, maybe more. It has less Jar Jar, but its romantic scenes (if you can call them that) are just as excruciating. After the meandering plotting of Phantom Menace, Clones finally gets into the events leading up to the original trilogy…but that might actually be a negative because it arguably spoils the sanctity of the originals. In my opinion, it’s better in some ways, as bad in others, and overall a step above its predecessor but still several flights from a good movie.

This time, the story aims higher for political intrigue involving assassination plots and warmongering in the shadows. Unfortunately, it makes the mistake of letting too much of the cloak-and-dagger machinations happen off-screen between the movies (they could have inserted some plots points into Phantom Menace instead of endless Senate meetings). By the time we catch up with the conspiracy plot, it’s too late in the game and crystal clear where everything’s going. As the viewer follows Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) from Coruscant to Kamino to Geonosis, it’s a straight line down the only possible path the story can take. It’s a journey punctuated with action, at least, but there’s no mystery or surprise.

Still, following Obi-Wan is extremely preferable to the scenes with Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) and Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman), which are some of the most forced and unwatchable attempts at romance ever put to screen. They’re never once believable, becoming more and more intolerable with each grating attempt to ignite chemistry, and the dialogue is so bad it’s as painful on the parts it’s trying to arouse as it is on the ears. Some of the most awful and explicit love stories on Reddit are hotter and more romantic than anything in this movie. And I’m not sure if the overpowering love score is a rare misstep for John Williams, or if it’s just wasted on something so bad and forever tainted because of it.

You could say the role of Anakin was what would make or break the prequels, although I’m not sure even a strong performance could have saved them with all the flaws they had. We’ll never know, however, as Christensen isn’t up to the challenge. He’s very scattershot. In one scene he’s as subdued as the rest of the Jedi, then in the next he’s like a whiny, repressed teenager. Far from great acting, but not too unbelievable. But then, on yet another superfluous journey to Tatooine, he’s suddenly a murderous psychopath decimating a village of Sand People. Then, back to just solemn and whiny shortly afterward. There’s no consistency or believable evolution to his rage, and thus it’s more laughably jarring than shocking or moving. Also, for such a dark turn, the Sand People massacre is treated like a rather insignificant plot point (the kindhearted Padmé is surprisingly cool with it instead of horrified).

What’s more upsetting as a fan than any of the main narrative’s failings is the way the film does damage to other elements of the saga for no reason. For example, the revelation that Boba Fett (Daniel Logan) is a clone of Jango Fett (Temuera Morrison) could have been a cool origin story if it were done well. But as just a throwaway plot point, it’s a highly disheartening thing to do to such a fan favorite. He absolutely did not need to factor into the story. Much of the character’s appeal was the mystery of his identity, and he just hasn’t been the same since. Worse is when Yoda (Frank Oz) ridiculously pulls out a lightsaber and starts jumping around kung-fu fighting. It’s a cartoonish and frankly stupid thing to do to such a beloved, thoughtful character, and adds nothing meaningful to the picture or story.

So, Attack of the Clones has all that, on top of all the slow walk-and-talk scenes spoon-feeding us the plot that we loved in Phantom Menace. But it also has more action sequences that, while a mixed bag, at least make the film go faster. The chase through Coruscant early in the movie is fun, if a little long and ridiculous, and the battle between Obi-Wan and Jango in the asteroid field isn’t bad. The sequences in the factory and arena on Geonosis, however, pile on too much slapstick and intrusive comic relief from C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) in unnecessary extended cameos (Threepio’s head getting put on a battle droid is especially annoying).

Most disappointingly, the big battle setting off the Clone Wars is mostly pushed to the background. Instead, we get to see Obi-Wan and Anakin chase after Count Dooku (Christopher Lee) and fight him in easily the worst lightsaber duel in the whole saga, one that substitutes randomly cut close-ups of their faces and flashes of light for actual choreography (and then Yoda shows up). That’s one of the most glaring differences between the original trilogy and the prequels, that we didn’t get any great big, iconic, well-constructed action sequences on par with the Death Star trench run or Battle of Hoth (the closest thing is the podrace in Phantom Menace, which is mostly irrelevant to the overall narrative). It’s disappointing how little of the Clone Wars we see in the movies. I haven’t watched the Clone Wars animated series, and I’m told it’s pretty good. But still, wouldn’t you have liked to see some of those epic battles on the big screen?

South Park, "Naughty Ninjas"

It’s good to see Trey Parker and Matt Stone haven’t lost their nerve after that whole 200^th episode incident. It’s also nice to see a return of the sledgehammer-level subtlety (which is to say, none at all) with which the show treated touchy subjects once upon a time. Between that and the appearance of officer Barbrady (in a major role, rather than just a throwaway gag capacity), I felt like I was watching a holdover from the show’s earliest days, only with the timely subject matter and satire that the show delivers at its best (sometimes recently).

The episode begins with a police incident that convinces the newly-P.C. town that they don’t need a police force. Pushing the police out, however, backfires on their gentrified nouveau-sophistication. And after mistaking the kids’ ninja game in the now-abandoned SodoSopa district for the activities of a certain terrorist group, they really start to regret it.

Although, rather than showing society crumble, the results of kicking out the cops are much more surprising, and revealing. I won’t give any specifics (nor will I give away the most biting line, which is an absolute howler; you’ll know it when you hear it), but it cuts much deeper than the reactionary route they could have gone. But lest anyone think this one is all pro-cop, the dutiful fondness for harassing minorities that the South Park police (sans Barbrady) have shown casually in a few past episodes is a prominent plot point here. Nobody goes unscathed in this one.

The main source of humor, however, was simple stuff derived from misunderstandings, but was no less enjoyable for that. Keeping things easy and going no further than treating a sensitive subject in the most blunt and insensitive manner possible had a certain old-episode charm. For fans still unsure about this whole connected season thing (among whom I count myself), this might take them back to the show’s best years, when it was still, first and foremost, a dirty cartoon. And if you can’t laugh at the simple (but unsurprising) absurdity of Cartman finding a kindred spirit in ISIS, well, you’re watching the wrong show.

The final scene appeared to set up some even more ambitious plotting for the remainder of the season (with hints of some big meta meaning, with which I have a good guess of where the season’s going), but I enjoyed this little break from the continuing storyline. Or at least it seemed like a break from it because, stylistically at least, it felt like watching the show in the 90s.

Spectre

Viewers might recall the last (and arguably best) James Bond film Skyfall all but finished the reboot of the series that began in Casino Royale. All the new incarnations of famous characters were established, and everything was in place to return to the regular Bond formula. But Spectre rejects that route, and tries to add even more on to the continuing mythology built over Daniel Craig's first three movies. Frankly, it falls flat on its face.

That is surprising, even if much of the movie is not. Until now, the Craig era has been so good, among the best runs in the franchise’s history. And Spectre starts off so well with the best opening sequence of the Craig films: a slow-building journey through the streets of Mexico City during Day of the Dead, which explodes into a foot chase and fistfight on board a wildly flying helicopter. It’s got the beautiful local imagery and outright crazy stunts that’d be ridiculed in any other series, but are par for the course for Bond. It seems to bode well, and the famous gun barrel sequence back at the beginning where it used to be suggests we’re back to basics.

If the movie that came after were as good, this sequence might have gone on to become one of the most iconic moments in the 50-plus years of Bond on film.

We find out soon after that this was an off-the-books mission, ordered by Judi Dench’s departed M, to track down the evil organization that MI6 has been battling the last three movies. This puts Bond in the doghouse with the new M (Ralph Fiennes), who’s feeling the heat from a younger tech-savvy intelligence official (Andrew Scott) seeking to shut down the 00 agents in favor of digital espionage. Despite his reprimand and little support from his employer, Bond makes his way through Europe and the deserts of Africa to stay on the trail of the shadowy cabal of evildoers.

Even though nothing ever tops the opening action, everything still looks promising for about the first half. Further action scenes—a car chase through Rome, a chase through the mountains involving a low-flying plane, and a train car fight clearly referencing From Russia with Love—aren’t standouts within the series, but they aren’t bad, either. Even more intriguing are the slower, talky expository scenes in between, seemingly building toward something big and exciting. It even makes Léa Seydoux more directly involved in the plotline, instead of just a randomly inserted beautiful female companion along for the ride. Unfortunately, the entire time the picture’s writing checks it doesn’t cash come climax time.

It’s a little hard to explain how it all goes wrong without spoiling anything. Then again, the main spoiler is easily the worst-kept secret about the film (it was even confirmed through last year’s Sony hack). Even if one hasn’t followed any of the leaks or speculation, the title is a dead giveaway.

I’ll just say that in Christoph Waltz’s antagonist, the movie attempts to reinvent one more figure from the series’ classical era, but the results are totally underwhelming. Instead of an interesting new take on the character, it’s just patronizing and self-referential lip service. He's also given a familial connection to Bond that’s so random, and so quickly glossed over, that one wonders why the screenwriters put it in. But the fact is, were he a villain by any other name, Waltz still wouldn’t be a good one. Yes, the man who won an Oscar as one of the great motion picture villains of the 21^st century is, shockingly, no good here. In the scant scenes he’s even in, he exudes none of the charm or charisma for which he’s so deservedly acclaimed. He’s as sterile and un-colorful as his lair, which looks less like the base of a major terrorist organization than the most boring luxury resort, ever.

Aside from that non-event, the major twist in the main plot (which offers paltry commentary on mass surveillance) can be seen coming a mile away. Given, story ambiguity has never been a huge priority for the series, but a lack thereof hurts more in Spectre than previous entries because it so clearly aspired for it, among other big things it failed to deliver. If it just stuck to the regular Bond formula, the film would have been an average but watchable mid-level affair (and if it weren’t so long, it still might have been as is). Aiming higher can yield great results if you’re successful, but it also makes the misses more disappointing.

Star Wars rewatch: The Phantom Menace

 **SPOILERS HEREIN**

Every Star Wars fan old enough to remember the days when there were only three movies remembers that poster. That simple image encapsulated all the mystery of Darth Vader: what few details we heard in the original trilogy, sporadic lines and whispers in various Expanded Universe materials, fleeting comments from George Lucas, and whatever each of us personally imagined. Everyone was sure the journey from a mere boy to arguably the greatest villain in cinema history was going to be a great, epic tale.

And honestly, the prequels peaked right there, with whatever images it conjured in each of our minds. As it turned out, the actual movie the poster was advertising was not great, not epic, and in a way, didn’t even feel like Star Wars at all.

Let’s get this out of the way: yes, Jar Jar Binks (Ahmed Best) is absolutely awful, annoying, unfunny, and possibly racist (though being unfamiliar at the time with the racial stereotypes some say he embodied, this criticism went over my nine-year-old head). All that has been said already, so I’m not going to waste any more words talking about it. Even if you take him out of the picture (as some fans have), there’s still plenty wrong with it.

The acting and dialogue are some of the most criticized elements of the prequels, and rightly so. Jake Lloyd, who plays Anakin Skywalker like a sugared-up kid picked as an audience volunteer for a Star Wars theme park attraction, is the worst offender. But unfortunately, he’s about the only energy the picture has. The rest of the cast is static and robotic. Practically every scene consists of characters dryly and stiffly spelling out every plot point while they stand still or walk slowly (Lucas apparently forgot the “show, don’t tell” rule). There’s no pace or energy in any of the scenes, no organic flow to the dialogue, and no inflection, emotion, or enthusiasm from any of the performers. Sadly, this would turn out to be a persistent problem throughout all three prequels. I hate to say this because it straddles the line between criticism and personal attack, but it almost seems like the cast and filmmakers didn’t even try. It’s hard to believe anyone watched these scenes and dialogue exchanges and thought they were satisfactory in the least. It seems more plausible that they were just trying to get the plot out of the way so they could move on to the next special effects sequence.

And what a bad, illogical plot it is. The whole Naboo-Trade Federation dispute is simply not interesting, not to mention small potatoes compared to the conflicts in subsequent episodes. In a trilogy that’s ostensibly about the Clone Wars, devoting an entire film just to this is like starting a World War II trilogy with a movie all about the Banana Wars (admit it, you don’t even know what that is). Of course, it’s just a ruse for the evil Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) to get elected Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, but his ascension could have easily been a single plot point instead of a whole movie.

Also, why would Palpatine send his apprentice Darth Maul (Ray Park) after the heroes? Wouldn’t it be better to seize power without letting everyone know the Sith are out there? It seems the character only exists so they could shoehorn lightsaber fights into the plot, not too successfully. It’s a wonder Maul has become almost as iconic to the saga as Darth Vader. He barely has any screen time, even fewer lines, and he’s killed off and never mentioned again after this movie (I’d point out the plot hole here, but who cares about holes in a plot that stinks anyway?).

As for Anakin’s story arc, the entire time on Tatooine feels like a dawdling, unnecessary tangent. It doesn’t get much better when they finally leave, either. For all the (deserving) flak from fans at the revelation about midi-chlorians, they’re only part of a much larger problem. The films also never explain what the Chosen One prophecy or “bringing balance to the Force” mean. It’s really vague, uninspired, and derivative storytelling, and it’s probably the most disappointing thing because Anakin’s story is supposed to be the driving plotline of the prequels.

So, while it fails at storytelling and developing characters we care about, does The Phantom Menace at least succeed as entertainment? Well, the famous podrace is a very cool sequence. It’s irrelevant to the overall storyline, but by the time it comes along, you’re too desperate for something exciting to really care. Other than that, the action is nothing exceptional. The battle droids look like cheap plastic models and are all but incompetent, so they elicit no tension in any fight big or small. The lightsaber duel pitting Darth Maul against Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) has some impressive choreography, but is emotionally underwhelming because we have little attachment to the characters (also, it doesn’t help that none of them say a single word throughout the whole fight). The best part of it is John Williams’ score, which is an unquestioned classic (really, the only truly great thing to come out of the prequels was Williams’ music).

As bad as the movie is, however, it might actually be the least bad of the prequels, or at least the least damaging to the saga. As I said, it doesn’t really feel like Star Wars. There are lightsabers and a few of the same characters and planets, but it feels overall disconnected from the saga. The events of the original trilogy aren’t even on the horizon, and the characters we know look very different from their counterparts in IV, V, and VI. I remember seeing the movie when it came out and feeling like it was from a completely different series, and the original trilogy’s aura remained mostly unspoiled. Even today, it still feels disconnected on its own, enough that you could almost brush it off as not Star Wars, but a knockoff of Star Wars.

That would become harder to do with the subsequent prequels, as the events leading into the originals started to take shape.

Coming this Friday: Star Wars rewatch

Starting this week, I'll be revisiting the Star Wars saga leading up to the release of The Force Awakens on December 18.

Join me as I return to that galaxy far, far away with the classic original trilogy, as well as the contentious prequels. And I just might also take a detour to what's considered the absolute nadir of the franchise.

Stay tuned for a new post every Friday beginning this week.