My Star Wars: The Force Awakens Review (SPOILERS)

"Everything's changed and nothing's changed."

Mark Hamill said this in a behind-the-scenes video for Star Wars: The Force Awakens released six months before the film's premiere. Hamill was referring to all the real sets, practical effects and other pre-digital techniques of film-making that director J.J. Abrams and Force Awakens crew had been using in order to give fans the Star Wars movie they'd been waiting to see for the past 30 years. For those of us who have seen The Force Awakens since it's release last week, Hamill's statement takes on a deeper meaning. Once again, we've been taken back to our beloved galaxy far, far away, where everything has changed and nothing has changed. We've collectively familiarized ourselves with the history of this fictional galaxy since childhood, so it should come as no surprise that its history, like ours, is doomed to repeat itself.

If there's a real world-applicable lesson in The Force Awakens, this is it. History is a cyclical animal, and as a result, so are the mythologies we create in our feeble attempts to give some kind of meaning to our existence. Conflicts come and go, the players change, but the story—for better or worse—stays the same. Everything changes and nothing changes. This is the reality that the Star Wars universe shares with our own.

So what's the point? If history is doomed to repeat itself, what can we hope to ever achieve? What can our mythology possibly teach us about ourselves? Is there any hope in breaking the cycle? These are the philosophical questions that The Force Awakens asks—and in classic Star Wars fashion, all while showing us one hell of a good time.

Which is why I say to all the naysayers out there who have decided that The Force Awakens is just an inferior rehash of the original Star Wars: A New Hope—you missed the damn point. Yes, the new movie shares many plot beats with the original Star Wars film. You noticed this because it was a clear, deliberate choice on the part of J.J. Abrams and co-writer Lawrence Kasdan. In evoking the narrative of the 1977 original, Abrams and Kasdan are working within the mythology that's in front of them and weaving a new chapter into the mix. Everything that's the same is the same for good reason, and everything that's different is different to great effect.

If there is a problem with The Force Awakens, it's not that it covers familiar ground, it's that it speeds through it a little too quickly. This is a fast-paced film in every sense of the word—so fast, in fact, that there are a number of moments—both visually and narritively speaking—that never get a chance to reach full potency. Some of the most beautiful shots in the film run for about a quarter of the time that they should, and a few key emotional moments don't quite resonate as strongly as they could have. This isn't a huge problem, and for every shot or scene that moves a bit too quickly there's one that really works, but there are still enough blink-and-you'll-miss it moments in the film to make me wonder what an extra five, ten, even fifteen minutes of extra run-time might have done for the final product.

That being said, the film's fast pace is just as much a strength as it is a weakness, and J.J. Abrams does a miraculous job of squeezing everything he can into this one to make it feel like a "real" Star Wars movie. The humor, heart, and dazzling effects are all intact, and they all work together in transporting us successfully back to the galaxy far, far away. There's a certain Rip Van Winkle effect to The Force Awakens. When you watch it, it feels like you've been asleep since the battle of Endor in Return of the Jedi and you've woken up 30 years later. You recognize your surroundings, but you can't quite pin down exactly what has changed in the decades-long interim. Then the story progresses and the pieces start coming together. Some questions are answered, many are not, but along the way you are treated to sights and sounds that make you say "Yes, I know this." There's a moment early on in the film when BB-8—the adorable new droid on the block—rolls along the top of a sand dune on the desert planet Jakku. A puppeteered alien with glowing red eyes pokes its head out from under the sand and grumbles something at the droid, who beeps and bleeps like he's startled and moves quickly out of the frame. It's a great little moment, full of the same brand of humor, environment, and practical effects you saw 30 years ago. You know this. This is Star Wars.

And for the most part, the rest of the film follows suit. Much has been said in the months leading up to the film's release of the practical effects and old-school techniques Abrams was implementing to make The Force Awakens feel authentic. The end product mostly lives up to the hype in this sense, and the CGI that does make it into the film appropriately augments the analog stuff (with the exception of Andy Serkis' CG rendered character Supreme Leader Snoke, who looks more like he belongs in Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter than he does in Star Wars).

But all the practical effects and real sets would be for not if they weren't inhabited by an incredible new cast of characters. As a fan, my biggest fear was whether or not I'd be able to love the new characters as much as the old ones. Thankfully, Abrams and Kasdan have written some wonderful new characters that have been brought to life by a brilliant cast of young actors. Hot off an impressive run of performances including the Coen Brothers' Inside Llewyn Davis, HBO's Show Me a Hero, and and new sci-fi classic Ex Machina, Oscar Isaac charms up the screen as hot-shot resistance pilot Poe Dameron, who the A.V. Club's Ignatiy Vishnevetsky aptly describes as "the swashbuckling pulp hero that the Republic-serial-indebted Star Wars cycle has, for some reason, never had before." Then there's John Boyega as rogue stormtrooper Finn, the likes of which we've never really seen before in a Star Wars film. His origins—a lifelong First Order soldier, trained from birth—grants the character a lovable sense naivete and other-worldly innocence that Boyega infuses with humor, wit and affability. Rounding out the new trio is Daisy Ridley as Rey, the scavenger-turned-force prodigy who, over the course of the film, secures her place as the hero of the new trilogy. It's astounding that this is Ridley's first movie role, because she throws down a mature, commanding performance. Rey is important to the future of the series for many reasons. It's great that the central figure of Star Wars is now a woman, and it's a relief that she's written and portrayed with the authority and dimension she deserves. Any hanging notion that Star Wars is a boy's thing flies out the door with Rey. In case you haven't figured it out already, Star Wars is for everyone.

The Force Awakens features some tremendous players on the dark side as well, among them Domnhall Gleeson as the weaselly General Hux, Gwendoline Christie as Captain Phasma (who looks and sounds so cool it's a shame she didn't get more screen time, even if she ends up playing a larger role in Episode VIII), and lead villain Kylo Ren, played with emotional gravitas and scene-stealing severity by Adam Driver, this generation's Brando as far as I'm concerned. Kylo Ren is no Darth Vader, to be sure. In many ways, he's the opposite. Where Vader is cold, calculated, and distance, Ren exists in the moment, and nine times outta ten, the moment is rage. A few months after it was first announced that there would be a Star Wars: Episode VII, a friend and I were discussing the predicament of creating a villain to succeed Darth Vader. We both agreed that the best move would be to create a villain that was unstable, unpolished, and rash—the Id in every way that Vader was once the Ego. Thank God we were right.

Speaking of Kylo Ren, let's talk about the death of Han Solo. Let's face it, the deed had to be done. Han Solo is a big deal. In fact, he's the biggest deal of any Star Wars character (with the exception of Darth Vader probably). Had he stuck around for Episodes VIII and IX, he would have cast too large a shadow over the new cast. He was so sorely missed in the prequels that he had to come back, and he had to go just as quickly in order for the series to move forward in a meaningful way. Han's death at the hands of his son also makes for some weighty storytelling, giving the film an authentic sense of loss while adding new dimensions to the whole light side/dark side dynamic. Ben Solo/Kylo Ren is, in many ways, the anti-Luke—a glimpse at what Luke Skywalker might have become had he killed his father and turned to the dark side in Return of the Jedi—making his future in the series excitingly difficult to predict. Is Kylo Ren beyond the redemption that was granted his grandfather? Only time will tell, but right now I'd venture to say he is. Anyway, Kylo Ren will probably never be as iconic as Darth Vader, but he's certainly on his way to becoming the most compelling villain that Star Wars has ever produced.

In my last Star Wars blog post, I mentioned that the final trailer for The Force Awakens gave off the vibe that the interactions between the old characters and the new ones act as a metaphor for the way new generations of fans continue to discover the original Star Wars trilogy. For the most part, this ended up being the case. When Rey and Finn first meet Han and Chewie, for example, there's a great moment where Rey and Finn argue about whether the legendary Han Solo was a general for the rebellion or a just a smuggler. It sounds just like a conversation any of us in the real world might have about Han Solo. What we share in common with Rey and Finn is an inherited mythology. Names like Han Solo and Luke Skywalker mean the same thing to them as they do to us. The only difference is that Rey and Finn actually live in the same universe as their mythological heroes. Is there any hope in breaking the cycle of history? Even if we can't, the mythology of Star Wars teaches us that the mere hope of breaking it is enough.

My Star Wars Story

"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..."

When you begin your film with these words, you're making a statement. You're saying, "This movie is going to be like everything and nothing you've seen before. It's going to be equal parts past and future, fantasy and western, familiar and unknown, and it's going to stay with you for the rest of your life."

There's no tagline quite like it in the history of cinema. It's almost mathematical in its self-contained genius. No word is out of place, and every word is necessary. My cynical side wants to say that this phrase contains the essence of what makes Star Wars so easy to market to the masses, but the kid in me wants to tell you that it captures the essence of what makes Star Wars so personal, precious, and moving for so many. And it's the reason I am about to tell you my Star Wars story...

When something big happens in your life, the details surrounding it tend to get lodged in your memory. I was 7, maybe 8 years old and I was with my parents at Chuck-a-Rama, a local buffet restaurant in Utah Valley. Blockbuster was next door to the restaurant and my parents were trying to decide what movie they should rent for me. At the time I loved old movies, and my parents were vital in introducing me to classic cinema and setting the stage for my lifelong love of film. As they brainstormed, my mom's eyes lit up. "We should rent Star Wars for Andy!" she said with an enthusiasm that immediately caught my attention. "What's that?!" I quickly asked. She then proceeded to sell me the movie, citing everything about it that she thought would appeal to my mini-movie buff sensibilities. "It's in space" I think she said, "and there are these two robots named R2-D2 and C-3PO and they go on an adventure..."

I don't remember what else she told me about it, but I remember how it made me feel. I hadn't even seen the movie yet and I was already dying to see what these two robots looked like, what type of creatures they would encounter, and what kind of universe they would inhabit. I remember seeing the VHS cover for the first time at Blockbuster after dinner. Though they stood off to the side, under a towering Luke Skywalker and buxom Princess Leia, R2-D2 and C-3PO caught my eye first as I recognized them as the robots my mom had described. Then we drove home and I watched Star Wars for the first time. First there was the 20th Century Fox fanfare, which I recognized from countless other old movies I had already seen. Then silence, and those words came across the screen in blue. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." then, there it was, STAR WARS, the title taking up the whole screen with that wiz-bang opening note of the John Williams soundtrack. I'm sure I didn't bother to read the title crawl, but it enthralled me nonetheless, like nothing I had ever seen in a movie before.

Then those two robots (actually called droids, as I soon learned) I had been waiting to see showed up in the first interior shot of the movie, and I was hooked. I would watch the other two Star Wars films in the coming months, and throughout the trilogy I saw R2-D2 and C-3PO as the main characters. They were my through-line, my connection with the story. I think they serve this function for most children. I guess for a child, these two little droids are easiest to relate to. On the playground I pretended to be Luke Skywalker or Han Solo, but when I watched the films, the droids were the avatars—the route through which I felt like I was part of the action. This is why I still feel the same way about R2-D2 that I feel about my cat. They're both faithful friends who speak to whatever innocence and child-like wonder I have left.

Like any kid who grew up in the '70's, '80's, or '90's, I interacted with Star Wars largely through the merchandise. I was really into action figures as a kid, and my favorite one was a Han Solo who could fit into a little carbonite-freeze casing. I spent hours playing with that thing, and as a result found myself looking to Han Solo more than R2-D2 and C-3PO as I got a little older. Around the same time I discovered Star Wars, I also discovered Indiana Jones, which would become my absolute favorite thing on the planet for the next 4 or 5 years of my life. With the one-two punch of these two movie trilogies, the combined efforts of George Lucas and Harrison Ford (with a little help from Steven Spielberg) consumed and completely shaped the landscape of my imagination for years to come. From about 4th to 6th grade I wore a leather jacket and fedora to school, for which I was teased mercilessly. My love for Indiana Jones was too visibly different to have it go unscathed by the brutality of boyhood. Luckily, I still had Star Wars, which was always a source of connection with my childhood peers rather than alienation. It may not have been cool in my neck 'o the woods to dress like Indiana Jones every day, but it was cool to engage in lightsaber duels on the playground or talk about which books from the Star Wars Expanded Universe we had read...especially after The Phantom Menace came out. It may be a dud of a film, but Episode 1 was a source of much fun and friendship for me and everyone else my age.

And I'll say this for all three of the prequels: they re-kindled the hell out of my interest in the original trilogy upon their respective releases. I didn't really hate the prequels at the time, but even then I found myself re-watching A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi as a pallet cleanser. Re-visiting these movies again and again as a teenager placed Han Solo alongside Indiana Jones and James Bond as my go-to cinematic heroes, and gave me a chance to delve into the mythology more deeply.

After my first year of college, I spent two years as a missionary for the LDS church. In Mormon culture, missionary service is a right of passage for young adults, and it's supposed to be a time of great joy. The fact of the matter is, it's a really dark and sometimes nightmarish time for many of us. The separation from home is a lot to deal with and the pressure to generate success in the mission field is a disastrous mental and emotional strain. One of the ways we dealt with all this on my mission was talking about Star Wars. We'd debate everything from which prequel movie was the worst to whether Yoda was more powerful than Darth Vader. There was even a group of us who had come up with our own Star Wars alter egos and made up stories about how our characters interacted with each other and what sorts of adventures they would have. I guess it was the most common denominator, the most shared experience from our combined pre-mission lives, so it was the easiest way to generate conversation. I think it was also a way of remembering who we were as people, keeping one foot in our real lives so we didn't lose ourselves completely to our whitewashed missionary identities. During this strange, dark time in our lives, Star Wars was truly a saving grace.

I returned home from my mission in, 2011. A little over a year later, Star Wars would play a huge role in connecting me with the love of my life. Jenna and I met on a study abroad program in Berlin. We spent our first day together with the rest of our study abroad group at the Brandenburg gate, where a guy in a Darth Vader costume was charging 2 or 3 euro to take pictures with him. As Jenna paid this guy and posed for a picture with him in front of this historical landmark, I silently judged her like the smug idiot that I was. "She probably doesn't even like Star Wars, and she's paying money to take this dumb touristy picture." I soon learned that she was a bigger Star Wars fan than I, but before I learned that I was already developing a huge crush on her anyway. I embarked on that trip all hopped up on Hemingway and Bukowski, planning to avoid any and all romantic entanglements and take a long stroll down the male bleeding-heart-expat-poet road. I hadn't dated anyone seriously since my last break up the year before, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to keep it that way. Instead I found myself on an adventure with a woman who would shatter all my expectations (sound familiar?). Over the course of the three-month trip we watched all three Star Wars movies. A New Hope we watched early on with some friends over a Saturday breakfast. This was when I realized how big a fan she was, so I spent the whole breakfast talking everyone's ear off about the genre roots of Star Wars, probably in a feeble attempt to impress her. About a month later we were on a weekend excursion to Greece. Our second night there we watched The Empire Strikes Back on somebody's laptop, there were four of us cuddled up on a couch and Jenna fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. I was really falling hard for her at the time and I had no idea how she felt about me, and I sat there with her head on my shoulder watching Han Solo and Princess Leia slowly moving in for their first on-screen kiss, and I realized that I was living out this love story in space that I had seen a million times. Like Han Solo, I had embarked on an adventure, getting more than I bargained for in the form of a strong, beautiful woman who wasn't going to put up with my scruffy-lookin'-nerfherderness, and the more I tried to pretend otherwise, the more obvious it was that I was falling in love with her.

Two years later, Jenna and I were married. Being the James Bond fan that I am, I wore an ivory dinner jacket like the one Sean Connery wears in Goldfinger, but not without a pair of cufflinks Jenna had given me as a wedding gift—one with the words "I Love You" on the face of it, and the other, "I Know". When we graduated college together, we wore matching Star Wars vans to the ceremony. A few months ago, we had neighbors stop by our first apartment. I let them in, and one of them took a quick look around and said, "I guess you guys really like Star Wars, huh." I hadn't realized until that moment that nearly half of our apartment decor was Star Wars-related, and I was even wearing a Star Wars t-shirt at the time. I guess Star Wars is no longer something we enjoy separately. It's now our thing. Like any couple, we've taken a common interest and made it something that's indicative of the life we're building together.

Me and Jenna at Graduation

    

So...here we are, all caught up to the present. Tomorrow at 10:15p.m. I'll be sitting in a theater, dressed as Han Solo, watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens. For the past year I've been thinking a lot about what this new movie will mean for me and countless other lifelong Star Wars fans. Judging from the message of the movie's trailers and other promotional footage, it seems that the new characters interacting with the old ones may act as a metaphor for the way new generations of fans keep discovering and connecting with the original trilogy. For me, The Force Awakens will mark a new chapter in my Star Wars story. I have no idea how I'll feel about any of the new Star Wars films, but I do know that I'll always have the original trilogy. Star Wars became a property that reached far beyond the films very early on, but it's still those first three films that mean the most. George Lucas once called mythology a "form of psychological archaeology". Pop-culture tends to serve this function in the 21st century, and there is no pop-culture phenomenon more universally captivating than the original Star Wars trilogy. This is why we revere these movies as a culture. Sure, they have their flaws, their silly bits of dialogue, bad acting, etc. But whether we like it or not, Star Wars is our shared mythology in the 21st century. At its core, the mythology of Star Wars sends a message of hope to the masses. As someone who has benefited personally from that message since I was kid, I'd say we could do a whole lot worse than a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

My Favorite Designs from the Star Wars Prequels

I gotta admit, the whole "Star Wars prequel trilogy sucks" shtick is getting kinda old. Don't get me wrong, I'm prone to flat-out despise all three prequel films as much as the next guy, but isn't it about time we all calmed down a bit and recognized that they weren't complete garbage? There may not necessarily be plenty to enjoy about the prequels, but anyone who loves the aesthetics of Star Wars should be able to find something enjoyable. As a fan who loves Star Wars largely (though not exclusively) for its visual pleasures, I've selected my five favorite designs from each film in the prequel trilogy to demonstrate that the parts are sometimes far greater than their sum.


The Phantom Menace

The Naboo Starfighter

A sleek, fun, retro-futuristic ship design 

Naboo Royal Starship

The sleekest, sexiest, most retro-futuristic ship in the galaxy

The Podracers

A great vehicular addition to the Star Wars universe, they emulate that "lived-in" look of vehicle designs from the original trilogy.

Queen Amidala's Wardrobe and Makeup

Always a beautifully alien-looking design, look of royalty that's truly other-worldly.

Darth Maul's Face

Without question the coolest character design since Darth Vader

Attack of the Clones

Coruscant

Prominently featured in all three prequels, but the chase sequence in Attack of the Clones really showcases the fun and excitement of this metropolitan planet.

Lars Homestead

Not only is this set a welcome return to an original trilogy location, it's a tactile, welcome break from the green screen-centric sets of the rest of the film.

Count Dooku's Lightsaber Hilt

The sith lord's curved saber handle design facilitates a unique combat style and just looks cool.

Mace Windu's Purple Lightsaber

Dooku may have the cool handle, but no sith or jedi ever looked cooler in combat than Mace

Jango Fett's Armor

This sleeker, shinier version of Boba Fett's iconic armor is one of the few designs that successfully creates a sense of visual continuity between the prequels and original trilogy.

Revenge of the Sith

Jedi Starfighters

Another design that successfully creates a sense of continuity between the prequels and the original trilogy...at least, until they're attacked by those stupid looking "buzz droids".

The Star Wars Universe's Answer to Opera

...or maybe it's more like a Pink Floyd laser show. Either way, it's an intriguing design.

Mustafar

I'm not a huge fan of the final showdown between Anakin and Obi-Wan, but this lava planet in and of itself is pretty dang cool in concept. 

Darth Vader in the Promotional Material

Anakin's transformation into Vader may have turned out kinda lame, but seeing the old Vader mask return in the movie's promotional material was a real visual treat.

The Final Shot

The best type of fan service. This shot doesn't save a terrible movie, but it does evoke the spirit and iconography of the original trilogy quite beautifully.

What are some of your favorite designs from the prequels?

A New Hope vs The Empire Strikes Back—Which is the Best Star Wars Film?

With the exception of those psychos who argue that the prequels are better than the original trilogy, most Star Wars fans tend to rank either Star Wars: A New Hope or The Empire Strikes Back as the best Star Wars film of all time (There's also a solid camp of Return of the Jedi die-hards out there, but in my estimation these folks tend to be more influenced more by unchecked nostalgia than the rest of us. "Jedi is my favorite because I watched it the most as a kid" seems to be the most common argument). I've spent equal time in both New Hope and Empire camps over the years. Those first two films are the heart and soul of the entire Star Wars franchise—the source of whatever magic it is that turned this little-space-opera-that-could into a juggernaut of contemporary culture. But if we had to choose, which one is the definitive Star Wars film: the original that gave birth to the phenomenon, or the triumphant sequel that upped the ante in every way possible? Let's make the best case for both and see where we end up...

The Game-Changer: Star Wars—A New Hope

As crazy as it is to think that there was a time when Star Wars didn't exist, it's almost crazier to think that there was a time when it only existed as one single film. My Dad has told me numerous times about his experience of watching Star Wars for the first time. It was at a theater in his hometown of Logan, Utah and he was one of only three people in the whole place. In this isolated viewing situation, on the eve of the first explosions of the Star Wars phenomenon, I imagine my then-18-year-old Dad must have had a pretty clear picture of all the pop-culture ornaments from his adolescence that were coming together in this new Space saga—Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, John Ford westerns, Clash of the Titans, and 1960's hot-rod culture—it was all there, synthesized into one big-screen adventure.
And that is the genius (and charm) of Star Wars: A New Hope. To fully appreciate the staying power and cultural impact of the Star Wars franchise, you have to look back to the source and see where it came from. Star Wars is not just Star Wars. It didn't just come out of nowhere. It is an amalgam of many different cultural influences that George Lucas brilliantly synthesized in the first film, and with this synthesis changed the course of film making and popular culture at large. On top of all that, it's a hell of a lot of fun. If A New Hope is the greatest Star Wars film of all time, it is not solely because it is the original, but rather, it is an original piece of work that brought together a bunch of old things to create something new.

The Ante-Upper: The Empire Strikes Back

I tend to think that the original trilogy is much more interesting when viewed as a series of "epic retro-futuristic eastern mythology hero space westerns" than simply as Star Wars films. In other words, the further Star Wars gets away from its genre roots and becomes its own thing, the less intriguing it gets. But that doesn't necessarily mean that each film isn't worth looking at on its own merits. At the end of the day, no other Star Wars property beats The Empire Strikes Back in terms of storytelling, character development, and just about every technical aspect of film making. Perhaps the most important narrative development in Empire is the addition of Yoda. Not only is Luke's Jedi training at the hand of the pint-sized Jedi master a brilliant elaboration on the eastern philosophy-influenced Jedi mythology from A New Hope, but its setting on the swamp planet of Dagobah makes for an incredible set piece which, along with Empire's other two major locations, marks the true beginning of the saga's unique and highly influential world-building capacities.
The story and scope of Empire wouldn't be nearly as effective, however, were it not for the inspired work of director Irvin Kershner and director of photography Peter Suschitzky. Together, Kershner and Shuschitzky meet the added emotional depth of George Lucas' second act with dark atmosphere and somber mood. Even something as simple as a shot of the Millenium Falcon's cockpit is improved upon by their combined visual flare. Take a look:

Here's the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon in A New Hope...

And here it is in Empire...

There's a clear shift in visual style here. Where George Lucas and A New Hope D.P. Gilbert Taylor gave us a brilliantly updated version of 1950's sci-fi cinematography, Kershner and Suschitzky take spaceships, ice planets, and sky-cities and make them look dark, moody, and romantic. Both approaches are great, but in terms of sheer visual pleasure, The Empire Strikes Back clearly takes the cake. 

Conclusion

So, given the evidence, if we had to chose, which is the better: Star Wars: A New Hope or The Empire Strikes Back?
Here's the thing—we don't really have to choose. At least, not definitively. What it all barrels down to is whether you prefer the swashbuckling, genre-mixing entertainment and retro-futuristic sheen of A New Hope, or the deeper dramatic pull and visual splendor of The Empire Strikes Back.
And for those of you who are still annoyed that I left Return of the Jedi out of the mix, just bear in mind that I didn't do it without good reason. If A New Hope is the "game-changer" and The Empire Strikes Back is the "ante-upper", then Jedi is kind of just the third Star Wars movie, no matter how good or bad it is or how much sentimental value it holds for you. It's not so much that Jedi isn't a great third act, because it is. In fact, it deserves a lot of credit for maintaining the adventurous spirit that defined the the first film as well as the drama that permeated the second. It just doesn't fire on all cylinders like the other two films do, perhaps largely because it's visually the least distinguished work in the trilogy. Had David Lynch or David Cronenberg agreed to direct Jedi when it was offered to them respectively, we'd probably be having a completely different conversation right now.

What do you think? Which is the best Star Wars film?