I was asked to contribute,

[Haver]

something they will probably regret, as will the mothers of the children.

 

STAR WARS EPISODE 3: REVENGE OF THE SITH

Jedi Knight in Dark Side Shocker

 

Hayden Christensen has a smug, stupid little face, and I would disfigure it, given the chance; George Lucas, too, although combat would be less intensive. It would be more of a concerned stroke: he, after all, conceived Indiana Jones, and as a consequence that little Asian kid, so it’s not really fair to chastise him for a mistake that he actually makes up for. The stroke would have a measure of vehemence, though. (A disembodied child just laughed awkwardly into my inner ear, perhaps at George Lucas; it’s spyware, I hope, else I need some kind of attention from a physician of some kind) Between them, they nearly – very, very – nearly balls up Revenge of the Sith. I can only compare the experience to romancing a Café Nero* Iced Mocha (a substance that is enjoyable enough to suggest that unicorns and rainbows and probably dancing tree-folk were involved in its conception), except halfway through your tastebuds sense a disturbance: vinegar, or perhaps, undiluted shit. Luckily for Revenge of the Sith, a ninja – who let it be known, is on fire – smashes, without remorse, through the outlet’s clean and expansive front window, and proceeds to order a regular latte (he insists that it be a particular temperature, lest it damage his internal geography; jazz band protagonist, you see), before arranging a date for yourself, Jessica Alba, and one lucky friend. Actually, I would scratch that; there would be two ninjas. And no friend.

 

Disregard that at will, this is all you need to know: without exception, if you were to note Hayden Christensen preparing to open the smug little mouth that is embedded all smugly in his smug, stupid little face, then for your own sanity, fast-forward. You will not regret such action, I guarantee it. For if you disregard the shitty dialogue, Revenge of the Sith is pretty good, and by good, I mean, not as good as the originals, but the visuals are pretty, and General Grievous has the capacity to wield four lightsabers. And there is what I would call Natalie Portman; and then there’s all that healthy Star Wars-y stuff that we love. It’s actually a pretty fun ride, and those visuals probably warrant a more graceful description than ‘pretty’. I would call it a ‘thumping space opera, a fast-paced slice of roboerotica’, but I’m not a proper journalist, and I just made that last word up.

 

It’s worth seeing, though, if for the lava alone (there is lava); I don’t normally form such a relationship with matter that is privy to such fervid heat, however, this particular instance burns the face and arms and legs and torso of that smug, stupid little impressively-jawed man. That warrants the eighteen pounds that could otherwise be spent on cricket or ponies or whatever you’re into. An amalgamation of both, perhaps.

 

Eight Richard Bacons out of Ten.

 

*Plug, hence, coffee, y’know, without money. For me.

[The3rdChildren]

Haha, dude. You really do dislike him, eh?

[Haver]

I'm just jealous.

[Wesley]

Haha, that awesome!

 

Have some of my love! *hugs*

[Meik]

I don't understand it.

 

This is something to do with fish, right?