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Star Wars III - The Trailer

Posted March 14, 2005

I sit down this weekend to write my movie trailer review of Star Wars III You Can't Polish A Turd. It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon, seventy-plus degrees in a freakish Portland March. Who shows up at my door but Victor Von Doom, supreme monarch of Latveria and arch-nemesis of the Fantastic Four. Evidently, he enjoyed my review of the Fantastic Four trailer, and when he requests to write a review of the new Star Wars trailer, I can hardly say no. Before I know it, Doom has commandeered my laptop and downloads several photos of Britney Spears (of dubious quality and origin). Now he's wearing only mask and boxers, clicking away on the keyboard and barking for more coffee (decaf latte). Without further ado, I present Dr. Doom.

Although the wholesale slaughter of Jedis is a promising cinematic event, after the first two disappointing installments of Star Wars prequels, only two plot points could bring me to pay full price to see the third Star Wars movie. (Note: I never pay full price. Since I own my own country, I never pay for any movies, although I cannot see every film, since I must budget my time appropriately. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, both as monarch and criminal, but my autocratic regime is a full-time occupation, and I must carefully vet the films I see. It's a golden handcuffs kind of thing).

1. The long, suffering, painful, gory death of Hayden Christensen. I mean exquisitely torturous, on the scale of The Passion Of The Christ. 2. The disembowelment of Jar Jar Binks.

Give me both of the above, and I might even splurge for Junior Mints. But it is not to be.

Instead, Mannequin Skywalker is reincarnated as Darth Vader, who is, let's face it, a black tie version of me. On the few occasions I have had to wear a tux, some revelers have the temerity to suggest that I look like Darth Vader. For their insolence, they are disintegrated.

Enough of me. The trailer of Star Wars Revenge of the Sith, looks decent. There is much fighting, killing, a stooped villain emperor in dire need of dental work, and an angry Yoda. Then I see why Yoda is so angry that tiresome android C3P0. Then there is more fighting, and a very bored Ewan McGregor, fighting but alas not killing Hayden, and I reiterate my promise to ban outright the viewing of this film in my territory. The citizenry will thank me, and we can avoid the pretense of sham elections for some time.

We all know the story: a young half-wit with a high supply of mitochondria(?) has exceptional powers derived from The Force, and because his mother is slain by the Sand People, he gets inconsolably angry and sad and easily manipulated, and then after being thrown into a volcano, has expensive reconstructive surgery and is reborn as Darth Vader.

I don't buy it. You're telling me that the Dark Sith Lord, who snaps necks at will (plus the no-hands asphyxiation, I must learn that trick) is only evil because of unresolved mother issues? Dr. Freud, pass me my hankie!

I'm an evil dictator, a super-villain, and I'm proud. I'm good at being evil, it is one of my talents. Why can't George Lucas put away his high-school psych books and relish the fact that as a little boy Darth Vader enjoyed setting bugs afire with a magnifying glass? I'm disgusted.

That Lucas has permanently tarnished his filmic legacy with these peeving prequels gives me only the smallest satisfaction. The trailer itself is a solid bit of sweetmeat, and for whetting my otherwise unconvinced appetite for destruction, I give the trailer two and a half Doomies.

The regular editor of All Day Coffee will return once he has returned with Girl Scout Cookies, which I will devour with my trademark evil abandon.



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