Next year marks the 30th anniversary of the release of “Star Wars,” which is not only an important historical benchmark, but also the best excuse I could come up with for why I’m writing a column about “Star Wars.”
The film’s original theatrical release was a genuine cultural phenomenon, the likes of which I’d never seen in all my eight years of life. I recall in particular the way fans used to brag about how many times they’d seen “Star Wars.” This is not the kind of thing you ever heard about, say, “Sophie’s Choice.” In our fifth-grade class, my friend Rich Woloski was the undisputed “Star Wars” champ, having tallied 28 viewings.
Today, of course, thanks to modern technology, watching “Star Wars” 28 times — or 1,000 times, if you’re so inclined — is a simple matter; all you need is the “Star Wars” DVD, a DVD player and the comfort of knowing that your lack of basic hygiene and social skills guarantee that no one will interrupt you down there in Mom and Dad’s basement.
The Internet has also had a substantial impact on the way we watch movies. Not long ago, moviegoers wishing to share their pointed thoughts about a film could do little besides grumble loudly and throw Milk Duds at the screen. With today’s Web technology, however, setting up your own movie criticism blog is a breeze. Once posted, your reviews can be viewed by dozens of online visitors — or millions, if you also include the most recent “upskirt” photos of Britney Spears.
But maybe you don’t have time to set up your own Web page; if not, you can just go to one of my favorites, www.nitpickers.com. Visitors to this site are encouraged to post messages about mistakes they’ve spotted in movies — minor detail errors like a boom microphone that sneaks into the top of a frame, an injured character’s limp that migrates from his left to his right leg and back throughout a film, or Paris Hilton mistakenly credited as an “actress.”
Although such miscues can bug me, my biggest pet peeve in movies is when the plot or staging simply doesn’t make sense. I didn’t have to see “Star Wars” 28 times, for example, to wonder why the stormtroopers wore all that bulky armor that did little to protect them from anything more powerful than a coughed up Wookie hairball.
I’m ashamed to admit that on the occasional visit to the theater, I have felt compelled to comment aloud about a particular incongruity to those in the immediate vicinity. As you can probably imagine, my wife just loves this. She finally swore never to go to the movies with me again after we saw “Legally Blonde” together.
In my defense, I feel my pained outbursts were wholly justified. I mean, I know it was a comedy, but come on — a first-year law student who winds up as the primary defense attorney in a murder case? Hey, why not take it even further and give the job to a 2-year-old? Or better yet, how about a dog? The script practically writes itself:
Prosecutor: “Then you admit that the bloody knife was in your hand when you were seen walking out of the victim’s apartment?
Defense attorney: “Woof! woof!”
Judge: “Objection sustained.”
Actors, directors and others in the film industry have, predictably, attacked the growing legions of online critics as uninformed, petty whiners who are probably behind in their rent to Mom and Dad. This may be true, but if the powers that be in the movie business don’t want any criticism, there’s a simple solution: Just don’t go online. And maybe stop selling Milk Duds.
Examiner columnist Malcolm Fleschner just knows he’s going to get yet another earful from George Lucas after this column.
