Because I saw Episode III before you.

I was afforded the chance to be an early witness to what George Lucas has done to this “final” installment of the Star Wars series. And, yes… oh yes… I have a few things to say about this, Lucas. My only thought after watching the final credit scroll upwards into the blackness was, “mendax.org must bear witness to these tidings” (or something along those lines).

I shall not give away everything in the movie, or even most things. In fact, I shall not even give away the things which vexed me the most. For I respect that you, dear reader, will not yet have seen Episode III and would like some mystery to remain. I grant you this one grace, in the hopes that I shall not completely crush your child-like excitement for an institution that you have held as a legend in your mind, despite the appalling introduction of Episode I.

I entered the theater with a sense of foreboding excitement. After Episodes I and II, you just KNOW that this movie will disappoint, but you just can’t stop yourself. So, needless to say, my expectations were low, which made me hope I’d be pleasantly surprised. The screen exploded with the comforting and familiar beginning expository scroll and I thought, “Yes… this is what I remember so well. It’s going to be okay.” Until I actually started reading what that ever retreating text had to say. And I say retreating because I have to believe that even the text itself was embarrassed at what the “plot” had been reduced to.

But a glimmer of hope burst to life with the opening shot. “Wow, Lucas. This is a beautiful film.” I felt that as long as I could ignore the acting and the plot, this just might be a glorious movie. The special effects (void of actual persons), the backgrounds, the colors, are amazing. If Industrial Light and Magic knows how to do nothing else, they do know how to make a film capture your eyes and hold them hostage. The sets smacked of the Star Wars of old. Familiar passageways and uniforms. That ridiculous, yet signature, cinnamon-bun hair style makes an appearance as well.

Even better were the always amazing sound effects. Not only were the satisfying lightsaber noises rumbling throughout the spectacular sound system, but many new memorable sounds were added as well. A grand balance of the old and comfortable with the fresh and new.

So I banished the weak dialogue from my mind, ignored several plot holes, and focused with all my might on those things that made the movie good, and lo and behold, I found myself actually WANTING to know what was happening on screen. I became engrossed with the movie. “Oh my God. Could Lucas have actually made up for the first two movies?” I actually CARED about what was happening. I was forgetting about the deplorable direction, forgetting about the embarrassing acting forced upon otherwise noted actors, forgetting that one MAJOR plot hole that is still chewing happily on my synaptic nerve endings. He was going to pull it off. THIS is what I had come to see. My shitty attitude walking into the film was going to pay off!

Until 30 seconds of celluloid diarrhea spattered itself across the screen. And my hopes were not only crushed, but crushed, driven over a few times, and urinated upon. You WILL KNOW of what I speak when you see it. It’s that horrific moment when Lucas takes that awed six-year-old child living inside of you, the one that still worships the original Star Wars, and simultaneously bitch slaps you in the face while his foot connects with your tender testicles. I stared at the screen not believing what I was seeing. “Is this a joke? Did someone splice in a gag reel or something?”

Lucas did not put me to the death in one quick motion… oh no. Much like the proposed fate Prince Humperdink, Lucas put me to the pain. Even if I had managed to gouge out my right eye followed by my left, that hell-inspired “NOOOOOOOOO” would still ring in my perfect ears.

I stumbled out of the theater stunned and angry as hell. The 30 second apotheosis of pain burned into my memory forever. What has me so livid is not that Lucas made yet another poor film. No. It’s that he made a film that was heading towards the isle of redemption. I could have forgiven him of his egregious past sins. It was that close. I almost made it out of that theater with a smile on my face. But raging hatred eats away at my stomach lining and pops that vein out on my forehead.

This is where I leave you, reader. For I am certain the illustrious WyldKard will have something to say on this subject once he has seen this waking nightmare. And he will do it far better justice than I. Even so, this review remains the first in what I am sure will be a tirade of postings, because I saw Episode III before you!