Don't get me wrong. It's not a horrible film. I'm not going to pull out one of those age-old clichés like, "George Lucas punched my childhood in the kidneys!" Or, "He did it too me a third time!" You know, those geek lines that rate super high in the Star Wars lexicon. Seriously, they're up there with, "I have a bad feeling about this." And, "You Don't know the Power of the Darkside." Saying, "George Lucas raped my virgin mouth with his prequels!" Is synonymous with, "May the Force Be With You." I'm surprised Lucasfilm hasn't slapped a trademark on this "rape" chestnut. They could have made millions off it in T-shirt sales alone.
Revenge of the Sith isn't a bad film. It's quite the opposite.
Thing is, this isn't supposed to be a rousing Whoopti-Doo. It's not supposed to be a fun summer thrill ride. The fact I left the film feeling completely, unequivocally depressed means the sonvabitch made something that surpasses Pop Entertainment. Yeah, I guess, for the most part, George got it right. He nailed the aura and emotional arc usually associated with a funeral pyre. I don't even really want to talk about the goddamn thing. Revenge of the Sith wiped me out both physically and emotionally. So much so, I'm not going to rush back to the theater to see it anytime soon. The next time I watch the movie is going to be when I'm broken hearted, and I want to feel ten times worse than I already do. I'm glad I didn't see this with a buzz on, I would have been crying like a little bitch through the last twenty minutes.
That's a dirty trick. There's not supposed to be any crying in Star Wars.