My Review of The Last Jedi
Leia Man of Steel
I’m going to try my hand at doing a film review. It’ll be like the other ones you’ve read from professionals, except mine will have lots of cussing. I was going to be hyperbolic about my reaction, but I decided to control my emotions and be logical.
The Last Jedi was the worst Star Wars movie ever made. It’s worse than the prequels. And it’s the second worst thing to happen to planet Earth behind Trump being elected.
See? I’m completely capable of restraint.
The prequels were bad because they crossed the line a number of times with foolishness and humor. They had characters that were designed to be funny, but weren’t. They had too much of a good things at time, just to pander, and in general they lacked the seriousness that Star Wars needs and deserves.
Rian Johnson didn’t just cross that line. He skull fucked the line.
The first scene opens with a comedy skit exactly like you’d see on Saturday Night Live. It’s kind of funny, actually. But then you realize it’s in Star Wars, and you throw up in your mouth.
If you’re in the middle of a big scene and someone starts cracking jokes, that person needs to die. Or at least get scolded like when the light guy walked through Christian Bale’s Terminator set. But no, it was a complete joke.
Ha ha—funny—Star Wars is funny.
Snoke gets this giant buildup, killed in an afterthought. Luke dies as an afterthought.
And in the middle we have Leia flying through space (which she somehow survives without any sort of suit) like fucking Superman.
We have the most powerful weapon in the universe turn out to be an engine with mass attached to it. Who knew that you could just point a giant ship at an entire enemy fleet and jump to light speed in order to win. Oh, and it turns out you could have just done it before you watched all your friends die.
So I guess we can just build giant empty ships now full of rocks, and put a hyperdrive on them and point them at enemy planets. Done and done. Fuck me.
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Oh, and you know what’s super fun? Dropping bombs in space—where there’s no gravity.
Rian Johnson will do absolutely fucking anything to get an “ooh” and an “ah”, apparently not giving a shit about the fact that he just cracked the integrity of the universe (and our childhoods).
The casino scene was flippant jack-off-ery. It was worse than a Jar Jar Binks porno filmed using only Lego.
Then you have this perfectly timed pseudo-stressful climax of being able to remove the tracking device just in time…except after seeing this happen once, twice, three times in all his other films, it just looks trite and shallow. Like the fourth time you see a used car salesman smile.
I’d keep going with examples, but I’ve already thrown up on myself.
The bottom line is that Star Wars is serious. It’s a fucking opera, not a comedy. Fuck him, and fuck Star Wars, since he’s doing the next one as well.
It’s dead to me until we get a remake that has the levity it deserves.
I guess I’m waiting for Game of Thrones in 2027 or whatever.
(kicks something nearby and hurts foot)