Bad auguries from kickoff in the script department when a security guard (or whatever) emerges from a ship that’s just nestled on a landing pad and smugly announces, “We made it.”
You’re kidding me?! You just gave the impression you didn’t make it.
What an unbridled farce it all is. But the dialogue especially is the worst of any Star Wars outing ever, characters unable to go 30 seconds without spitting nonsense or telling us what they are doing as if we are at the blind school, imperative piled upon imperative.
The editing is amateur hour. I sat incredulous, legit open-mouthed at most of the cutting choices – why Lucas cuts to another angle for no apparent reason, why he inexplicably holds a shot for an age after someone has finished speaking (gibberish).
And Yoda wielding a lightsaber is a sequence that belongs in a skip. All mystique was sucked from the green dwarf right there in a classic case of jumping the shark Yoda.
Oh, it’s a bloomin’ awful car crash of a flick and I watched it because there is something wrong with me. There’s a lot wrong with me.
Ocean Terminal’s Vue Cinema reopened yesterday after a lengthy hibernation, the new ‘distancing epoch’ peppered with PPE and anti-bacterial spray flying everywhere. They are showing some classics, presumably because studios are unsure as to how to proceed with their new releases. £5.99 a ticket for this cinematic baptism? Yes, yes, yes.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 