I will never forget the day in the summer of 1977 when I saw “Star Wars” for the first time. I was watching TV in the living room, and wondering what else I could do that day, when my mother poked her head around the corner and asked me if I would like to see a movie. I had read a glowing review of “Star Wars,” so I said yes, even though my 13-year-old mind had no grasp of the magnitude of what was about to happen. Three hours later, I had fallen in love with movies and experienced the joy of becoming a fan.
My love of the “Star Wars” movies (not the books, games, or merchandise) persisted until I saw “The Return of the Jedi,” which was when I learned the meaning of the word “disappointment.” I loathed the Ewoks, thought blowing up another Death Star was a creative cop out, and didn’t buy that “Star Wars” creator George Lucas had always intended for Luke and Leia to be brother and sister.
However, 15 years later, news that Lucas was working on a prequel trilogy stirred the embers of my affection for “Star Wars,” and I became a 13-year-old kid again, devouring news about the “Phantom Menace” in the years and months leading up to its release. I still remember watching the trailer for the first time and thinking the movie looked awesome.
Then I saw the movie and learned what having every ounce of love for something crushed out of you felt like. I wasn’t just disappointed; I hated “The Phantom Menace.” For two hours, characters sat around and talked about trade route taxation and the legality of an armed blockade. Scenes were awkward, the dialogue was leaden and expository, and great actors looked as though they’d rather be anywhere than a galaxy far, far away. Moreover, the climactic space battle had no emotional impact, just a silly ten-year-old boy, who would someday become the fearsome Darth Vader, accidentally blowing up a big ship and going, “Woo hoo!”
Worse, to make “The Phantom Menace” entertaining for kids, Lucas created Jar-Jar Binks and then gave the abhorrent creature the task of providing comedy relief. Jar-Jar would step in poop and go “icky poo,” animals would fart in his face, and he would say things like “ex-squeeze me” if he wanted to get your attention.
“Ex-squeeze me, Mr. Lucas, can we talk?”
When the lights came on in the theater, the 13-year-old kid had already gone dormant again.
Still, when I read that Lucas was converting “The Phantom Menace” to 3D for a theatrical re-release, I decided to see it. I thought the movie might have gotten better with time, and that there would be something special about seeing a “Star Wars” movie in a theater again. As I purchased my ticket, and paid extra for a commemorative pin to benefit a children’s charity, I felt a 13-year-old heart beating in my chest.
Not long after the movie began, I realized that “The Phantom Menace” had not aged well. In fact, it was worse for the wear. I was also surprised by how pointless the 3D was. Other than the opening “Star Wars” story scroll, the movie barely looked three-dimensional. If you’re thinking of buying a ticket to see what “Star Wars” looks like in 3D, don’t bother.
As I watched “The Phantom Menace,” I forced myself to think about the things I liked. The lightsaber battle between Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon Jinn and Darth Maul is actually awesome, and for all of the movie’s maddeningly dull storytelling, it does a good job of setting up two much better prequels. Despite the lackluster 3D presentation, I am looking forward to the theatrical re-release of the other “Star Wars” movies.
The Internet is filled with acidic bile for Lucas and the prequel trilogy, especially “The Phantom Menace.” While I wish Lucas had made a better movie, I will always greatly admire him and be thankful he created “Star Wars” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
Nothing, not even Jar-Jar Binks, can diminish the impact those movies had on my life and the pleasure they have given me.
Rated PG for sci-fi action and violence. One star out of four. Email David Laprad at dlaprad@hamiltoncountyherald.com.