Ladies and gentlemen, meet Jabba’s effete, sissified, feather-headdress wearin’, neon tattooed, nightclub-owning Uncle Ziro. WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW!?
Well, congratulations George, you’ve succeeded in creating a character that is gayer than C-3PO and more annoying than Jar Jar Binks. Wow…just typing that sentence has completely blown my mind.
Ziro pops up about 40 minutes into the new CGI animated feature film Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which I caught at a matinee showing on Friday afternoon. That 40-minute mark will henceforth be known as the point of no return for you Star Wars fans wishing to hang on to whatever shred of hope you still had left for this saga to retain some manner of dignity and magic. Consider yourself warned, because after you see and hear Ziro the Hutt squirm on screen and threaten Padme with his effeminate, Truman Capote-esque southern drawl, all will be lost forever.
Honestly, nothing George Lucas conjures up shocks me anymore. The man obviously has a bad motivator. He’s blown a restraining bolt. He’s nuttier than a Gungan. He’s batshit insane. I have absolutely no clue what happened to George in the decade between Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and The Phantom Menace, but somewhere along the line he decided that what movie audiences really wanted to see were horrific Asian, Arab, and Jamaican stereotypes in the guise of aliens, inept battle droids that say “Roger! Roger!” endlessly and cannot remember numeric coordinates given by another battle droid, despite the fact IT’S A FUCKING ROBOT!!! A WALKING, TALKING COMPUTER CAN’T REMEMBER A TEN-DIGIT COORDINATE??? *sigh* Oh yeah, and there’s that big, homo Hutt I mentioned before. Thank you George…thank you for all you have given us.
Oh, the movie? It was actually pretty good. Fantastic battles and lightsaber duels. Smooth animation, nice voice work. The TV show that starts in the Fall should be pretty entertaining.
*** (out of five)