Recommended Bad Review
Just in case you haven't got a copy of The New Yorker to hand (May 23, 2005; that's the copy you want), I will explain to you why you want to go find it, which is that it has within it Anthony Lane's review of "Star Wars: Episode III."
Now, I haven't seen the movie, though I probably will. I've heard various things about it, some laudatory, some not. Mr. Lane, who did, of course, see the movie, hated the movie with a mighty passion. Perhaps the movie will turn out, when I see it, to be as bad as Mr. Lane says it is. I don't care. What I care about is this review, which is one of the best of Lane's movie slams.
Here are some examples, which I provide in attempt to make you go find the whole thing, "Space Case," pages 94-95.
What can you say about a civilization where people zip from one solar system to the next as if they were changing their socks but where a woman fails to register for an ultrasound, and thus to realize that she is carrying twins until she is about to give birth? Mind you, how Padme got pregnant is anybody's guess, although I'm prepared to wager that it involved Anakin nipping into a broom closet with a warm jar and a copy of "Ewok Babes."
And:
The general opinion of "Revenge of the Sith" seems to be that it marks a distinct improvement on the last two episodes, "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones." True, but only in the same way that dying from natural causes is preferable to crucifixion.
Or, in a section in which the author ostensibly pulls his punches, but doesn't really:
The young Obi-Wan Kenobi is not, I hasten to add, the most nauseating figure on screen; nor is R2-D2 or even C-3PO, although I still fail to understand why I should have been expected to waste twenty-five years of my life following the progress of a beeping trash can and a gay, gold-plated Jeeves.
Or, from a long tirade focused on Yoda:
Also, while we're here, what's with the screwy syntax? Deepest mind in the galaxy, apparently, and you still express yourself like a day-tripper with a dog-eared phrase book. "I hope right you are." Break me a fucking give.
Ok, that's enough. You can go find the rest at the library or the newsstand.
Or even, if you can't abide treepulp, here.
If you don't mind buying even more treepulp than the magazine provides, a collection of Lane's reviews, Nobody's Perfect,
But the "Star Wars III" review isn't in there.
Now, I haven't seen the movie, though I probably will. I've heard various things about it, some laudatory, some not. Mr. Lane, who did, of course, see the movie, hated the movie with a mighty passion. Perhaps the movie will turn out, when I see it, to be as bad as Mr. Lane says it is. I don't care. What I care about is this review, which is one of the best of Lane's movie slams.
Here are some examples, which I provide in attempt to make you go find the whole thing, "Space Case," pages 94-95.
What can you say about a civilization where people zip from one solar system to the next as if they were changing their socks but where a woman fails to register for an ultrasound, and thus to realize that she is carrying twins until she is about to give birth? Mind you, how Padme got pregnant is anybody's guess, although I'm prepared to wager that it involved Anakin nipping into a broom closet with a warm jar and a copy of "Ewok Babes."
And:
The general opinion of "Revenge of the Sith" seems to be that it marks a distinct improvement on the last two episodes, "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones." True, but only in the same way that dying from natural causes is preferable to crucifixion.
Or, in a section in which the author ostensibly pulls his punches, but doesn't really:
The young Obi-Wan Kenobi is not, I hasten to add, the most nauseating figure on screen; nor is R2-D2 or even C-3PO, although I still fail to understand why I should have been expected to waste twenty-five years of my life following the progress of a beeping trash can and a gay, gold-plated Jeeves.
Or, from a long tirade focused on Yoda:
Also, while we're here, what's with the screwy syntax? Deepest mind in the galaxy, apparently, and you still express yourself like a day-tripper with a dog-eared phrase book. "I hope right you are." Break me a fucking give.
Ok, that's enough. You can go find the rest at the library or the newsstand.
Or even, if you can't abide treepulp, here.
If you don't mind buying even more treepulp than the magazine provides, a collection of Lane's reviews, Nobody's Perfect,
But the "Star Wars III" review isn't in there.
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