Yes, it's another review of The Phantom Menace.
I like to support these little independent art house films by directors who need the cash. It's not a gushing tribute to George Lucas so don't worry. Nor is it another rehash of plot and characters. If you're reading this, chances are you're sick to death of reading about stars, cast and other snippets of background info. This is not an attempt to tell you what you already know.
Just the musings of a thirtysomething fan who found a life in the 16 years while he was waiting for Episode One to open.
If this were a TV sketch it should have Ron Manager from The Fast Show refelecting on the halcyon days of cinema going instead of footy.
Alas, it's just the good old blank page and a few hundred words. But this opening crawl of an intro does not start in deep space but in the Tatooine of England. The backwater that is: Kingston on Hull.
If there's a bright centre to the universe then Hull is the point it's furthest from.
Hull UCI cinema on a mild Thursday night in July is not the sort of place where great things usually happen.
The smell of fish that drifts in from the Humber doesn't really set the scene for a film of epic proportions although it was rather apt for some early scenes of The Phantom Menace on its opening day in Britain.
There's fish of all sizes as our Jedi heroes swim to the underwater city that looks like a fevered dream of Jules Verne.
At least the natural Smell O Vision effect was fitting.
Sixteen years ago, like thousands of others, I had queued for three hours on the opening day of Return of the Jedi in Bournemouth. A long, snaking line of fans wound its way around the block as I stood there high on the dizzy expectation of the final part of the Star Wars saga.
Ten minutes in and I started looking at my watch; by the time Yoda gave his death speech I was under no illusions that this was just another movie.
A good looking, cleverly constructed beast of a film complete with dazzling flashing lights and beeps that make you go: "Oooh."
But still just a movie.
Trouble is, director Richard Marquand had tried a little too hard and the result was an over egged pudding filled with too many supporting characters and not enough human interest.
So fast forward 16 years, through a generation born and leaving school between the release of Jedi and Phantom. Between Bros, Neighbours, Take That, Channel 5, the dawn of the DVD and the cellphone. The birth of Prince Harry and the death of Diana. The rise of Jim Cameron and Tim Burton and the loss of John Huston and Stanley Kubrick.
For many of us, pocket money turned into Saturday jobs and weekly wages. Rent turned into mortgages and lately, the skin under your eyes doesn't snap back in the way that it used to.
Credit card bookings and the dawn of the Multiplex ushered in an age of covered queues. As film-goers we are all far better off than those flea pit days of the old Odeons and ABCs when tinny sound and poorly soundproofed theatres usually meant us hearing half of one film through the all while we tried to get lost in that galaxy far, far away.
It may be a generation later but you could say Lucas has learnt a little from his experience on Jedi. His first film since Star Wars in 1977 is a wet dream for any kid now old enough to remember seeing Star Wars for the first time in February 1978.
Some things never change. With Britain being only eight per cent of the world market we still end up looking like small change in the eyes of the film-makers who use our resources to get their visions on screen.
It's about a landmark in the lives of many people born in the late Sixties and early Seventies.
Christmas may have the predictable re-occurence of a loved season, something whose magic diminishes a little more each year, but when a Star Wars movie opens, it's something which for the last decade and a half has been sorely absent from all movie lovers' lives.
The spy genre may have their Bonds but sci-fi fans have been short changed for as long as we can remember since James Cameron became self proclaimed King of the World and Steven Spielberg started making over-hyped war films and over sentimental dramas.
Sooner or later everyone sells out and for anyone unlucky enough to have seen The Lost World, there can be no sadder sight than seeing Spielberg compromising in the name of cash.
The Phantom Menace may be a massive exercise in over hype and superb marketing but at least there's a wild streak of independent cinema that Lucas nutured back in his early days as a member of American Zoetrope.
Back in the Sixties when Francis Ford Coppola was yet to make such landmarks as The Godfather and Apocalypse Now, Lucas was the quiet observer. He watched the making of The Rain People and McKenna's Gold, mused over some glaring errors that the directors couldn't see and given half a chance, could have probably turned in a far better film than the likes of Copppola or Carl Foreman could ever have managed.
Episode One is the high class partner you thought you were never worthy of while Lost in Space and ID4 were the good looking fumblings round the back of the chip shop. Fine while they lasted but you couldn't remember much about them the next day.
SW:EO:TPM is ideal for taking your mind off the fact you're never going to look like Brad Pitt ot Jennifer Aniston. Ideal eye candy for those who would rather look at the big screen than ourselves in the mirror. That spot on your nose may still be there; your veruca has taken up permanent residence and the knockout blind date you had last week will never darken your door again but in an age of uncertainties and tiring inadequacies, it's good to know that there's a craftsman in California still knocking up these beautifully crafted movies that will weather the storms of time long after the mass produced formula pictures end up collecting dust in the video bargain bin.
The opening of The Phantom Menace in Britain coincided with three things. The 30th anniversary of man landing on the Moon, the release of Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut in the States and I bought a house. There are events that will soon be forgotten but in a rather tenuous fashion, it's good to know that great things were afoot on 15th and 16th July 1999.
A week earlier, John Stears - the man who built many of 007's top gadgets as well as light sabres and R2 D2 - popped off to that great special effects house in the sky while Bill Owen from Last of the Summer Wine joined him.
On the box, there was very little to recommend excpet that fact Johnny Vaughan (on The Big Breakfast) managed to secure some superb interviews with George Lucas and the cast of TPM. The sight of Lucas playing Star Warts and signing a pair of Darth Maul pants (on the dark side) was nirvana.
While Vaughan was enthusiastic but never fawning, it's a pity the British Press decided to make it their personal goal to destroy a movie whose gleaming successes far outweigh its clunky failures.
The sniping by highbrow critics has reeked of jealousy and cynisism. They failed to see that this is a film for the young and the young at heart. It was never meant to be Shakespeare. Maybe in a hundred years time it will be seen with a little more respect - but for the moment, go and see it and enjoy.
At least this is a one night stand you'll respect in the morning.
© 1999 Roger Crow
