On Tunnel Monkeys and Vogon Poetry...

Took some time out of our ridiculous schedule to see Revenge of the Sith. I'm ecstatic to say that I actually liked it, and didn't come away with that sick feeling of disappointment that I had with the previous two "prequels". Of course, the Lucasfilm Painchip imbedded in my neck (the one we all got with our first order of Star Wars figures back in 1978) prevented me from overtly voicing my displeasure with the new trilogy...

Revenge of the Sith is by far the best of the new movies. That really isn't saying a lot, I know, but it is, for once, a good movie. Is it great? No. But at least it didn't suck as much as the previous. (That's all I ask for out of Hollywood anymore, to "not suck as much".) There was, of course, reams of awful dialogue and wooden acting (and when you didn't get wooden, you got ridiculously over-the-top, ala Palpatine, but why nitpick here?). There were also way too many tunnel monkeys.

(For those of you unfamiliar with the phrase I just made up, Lucas re-released his epic snooze-fest THX 1138 in a brand-new, tricked-out special edition (of a movie no one really liked in the first place). During a crucial chase sequence near the end, he litters the image with new CGI of what looks to be monkeys running through the tunnel alongside the cars. Therefore, when referring to needless CGI laid into a scene existing simply to clutter the frame, you must now use the term "tunnel monkeys". I'll be looking in on you periodically to make sure you do this, so don't try to get anything past me!)

Still, it was a relatively satisfying movie on its own right. Lucas should have simply made this one and let the other ones fester in the back of his mind. And, of course, he should have Rick McCallum killed immediately for telling him that Jar-Jar Binks was a good idea.

Onto other things...

My rarely-updated webzine, Hollywood is Burning is hosting a screenplay contest. As a result, I've gotten in a couple of pretty good scripts to review and judge. Also as a result, I've gotten in a lot of horrible, awful things, filled with horrible dialogue, improper formatting, and illogical plots. In short, the sure-fire hits of next summer. However, sifting through some of this stuff is like reading Vogon Poetry. You just can't do it.

(Another note, now that The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy has been released as a swank big-screen movie -- and a good one at that -- Amy pointed out that we geeks have now lost the secret handshake. You used to be able to walk up to people at cons and sort the "knowing" from the "unknowing" by simply saying things like "42", or "care for a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster?", or "Hey, you hoopy frood, know where your towel is?", or "Say, isn't that the ravenous bugbladder beast of Traal?" If they fixed you with a blank stare, you knew to slowly back away and make sure they don't follow you. No more. Hollywood robbed us of our code words. Now you can say those sorts of things to any Joe Idaho who wandered into the movie on the promise of seeing robots and shoot-outs. At least I take comfort in the fact that on many messageboards across the vast wasteland that is the Internet that there are many confused and not-the-least-bit impressed with Hitch-hiker's. "It was trying to be funny. It wasn't funny. I wanted more of the green aliens. They were kewl. The robot was funny, but the rest was just stupid." This makes me feel more secure, somehow, that there are still those out there who can tend to our crops and sell us Slurpees without our feeling any guilt that we've put the cows in charge of our convenience stores.)

And thus, I end on a parenthetical aside...