A long time ago, in a galaxy that we live in… George Lucas conceived of one of the most popular films of time, the space opera Star Wars. Originally produced as a trilogy, Star Wars become a cultural touchstone for my generation. Many of us know every word, watch the films on repeat, and have bonded with our friends or spouses over the Buddhist-like Force that binds all living things together. Some of us have fantasized about being Princess Leia or Han Solo or Luke Skywalker (or sleeping with them!) and a lot of us have used flashlights as lightsabers, utterly disappointed that this doesn’t really work as we hoped it would. These films are a part of who we are as individuals and as a culture.
And then… George Lucas decided to fuck with them. Since practically the beginning, Lucas has been changing and adding and tweaking them until they are the film equivalent of Michael Jackson’s face: we still see what we loved, but it’s so distorted we can’t help but feel sad.
