I was ten years old and this seemed pretty fucking cool. The sign got kind of worn out over the next year and by the time the end of the next summer came around I was ready for it to go. I saw the film a couple more times, maybe five times total, but this was pre-video. Five times was a lot back then.

I saw the sequels. The second one on the day it opened. The third one within a week or two. Or three. Each seemed a little less special than the previous. But in hindsight I think I was just a little older.

I haven’t seen any of the new ones. How many are there? Three? From what I understand they’re appalling. But I did go to see the reissue of Star Wars (that’s what it’s called, by the way, Star Wars. Or that’s what it was called when it was still magical.)

I watched it closely, surprised that I still remembered every cut and noticed when the cadence went off to allow for new, or longer, shots. I noticed the new 3D renderings of the tie fighters, and I missed the triangular matte lines I had to ask the projectionist about – movie magic, apparently, but he wisely suggested I check out 2001 to see how it was really done. What I realized, no more than half way through the movie, was that the only way I could enjoy this awful, terribly paced, flaccidly written piece of shit was to be ten years old again.

I realize, watching this video, that I wish Star Wars had never been made. People actually aspire to make movies this good, which is like hoping to make triple digits on an IQ test. The girl is lucky. Her imaginary Star Wars is better than the real one I’ve got to live with.

like how did she forget that