…So I’ll just get to the point. Star Wars, in all its iterations and forms, sucks. It blows. It’s interplanetary, extraordinary tommyrot. It’s 114 percent rubbish, and not very interesting rubbish at that. It’s an incoherent muddle of a story, like twenty-five cut-rate comic books sent through a shredder and then reassembled with the bits in any old order. Even the font they use for the title is ugly. Then again, what do you expect? The whole franchise is the comic sans of entertainment.

I sometimes think of Alec Guinness, a real and accomplished actor, wandering the cheesy sets in a used bathrobe, surrounded by muppets and SoCal stooges, all the while thinking to himself, “I used to be in David Lean movies. I did Lear with Olivier. Now I’m standing next to a guy dressed as a giant marmoset or shrew or badger or something that grunts all his lines. There’s some sort of brass dress dummy and a garbage pail on casters I’m supposed to deliver my lines at. As soon as I get back to the trailer I’m calling my agent to ask him if the check they wrote me is big enough for me to have him killed with enough left over for me to retire.”

And the music? Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but John Williams is a hack. I only worry about hurting the audience’s feelings, because I bet I can’t hurt John Williams’ feelings, He obviously doesn’t have any. Every time I hear any of that atonal twaddle, I wonder to myself, “I wonder who that is playing that song with his elbows? 

But hey; cool organ.

[Thanks to Dadof Homeschoolers for sending that one along]