It’s not a Star Wars Story it’s a prequel. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
It doesn’t get much more ‘pre’ than having a creepily rejuvenated Princess Leia stood clutching a floppy disc and mouthing a large proportion of the first instalment’s title at you. Perhaps that's what a Star Wars Story is: a cruelly curtailed prequel in which anyone with aspirations to appear in the follow-up gets vaporised on a beach.
It doesn’t get much more ‘pre’ than having a creepily rejuvenated Princess Leia stood clutching a floppy disc and mouthing a large proportion of the first instalment’s title at you. Perhaps that's what a Star Wars Story is: a cruelly curtailed prequel in which anyone with aspirations to appear in the follow-up gets vaporised on a beach.
Rogue One, like all the worse kinds of prequels, obsesses with answering questions that no one has asked.
Want to know why it was so easy to blow up the Death Star?
No.
No really, do you want to know why it was so easy to blow up the death star?
No, I really don’t.
Okay then. You interested in how those rebels got hold of those plans?
No.
Actually I’m more interested to know why a basic wireframe graphic heralding from the age of Atari won’t fit on a USB stick. Or hasn’t the Empire got round to inventing those yet? Preferring instead to pour its tech budget into jaw droppingly elegant shuttle craft to whisk it’s bad guys around the galaxy. And a pointlessly spacious apartment built over flowing lava to contain its arch villain’s disabled shower unit.
Actually I’m more interested to know why a basic wireframe graphic heralding from the age of Atari won’t fit on a USB stick. Or hasn’t the Empire got round to inventing those yet? Preferring instead to pour its tech budget into jaw droppingly elegant shuttle craft to whisk it’s bad guys around the galaxy. And a pointlessly spacious apartment built over flowing lava to contain its arch villain’s disabled shower unit.
Rogue One is a well intentioned little movie that takes a real shot at solving some of those mighty conundrums that absolutely nobody else is worried about. I can imagine sitting in a scripting meeting in the Hollywood hills agonising over the biggest conundrum of them all: how can we make this Death Star thing look really badass without firing it?
Why can’t we fire it?
Because it gets fired for the first time in A New Hope, which hasn’t happened yet (although everyone's seen it).
Okay, how about this. It’s adjustable. Sure it can obliterate entire planets, but if you’re feeling lenient you can select a lower setting and just take out a major city or principality. Just to make a point.
Brilliant! So Peter Cushing is the first guy to turn it up to 10 - which leaves us Ferocity Levels 1 through 9 to play with. Brilliant. But…
The excitement dies down and a hush descends upon the gathering. Because there’s that name again, Peter Cushing - damn him! Damn his dead arse!
(At which point a couple of sinister Lucas Film henchmen appear and escort the offending screenwriter round the back for a little chat about how hard it can be to find work as a screenwriter if Bob Iger doesn’t like you very much).
Okay, we’ll have to make a new Peter Cushing then. It’ll be fine, no one will notice.
Yeh right.
Sure, Rogue One starts well, with a generous helping of Scandinavian Noir courtesy of Mads Mikkelsen standing on a slag heap in the rain. Oh but what’s this? He has a child - No! And it’s a little girl - No! Anyone would think Disney had a hand in this. And hang on, isn’t this roughly how The Force Awakens starts? And hang on again, doesn’t The Force Awakens also have a strong female lead of dubious origin? Is this what is known as Running Out of Ideas (surely not - only two films in!) or Finding A Winning Formula and Sticking With It? The latter I presume. Wonder when they’re going to let the boys have a go again. Luke Skywalker origin story?
Want to know how Luke ended up living in a hole on Tatooine without a mum and dad?
No, you’ve already told us.
Sorry, right.
And what is it with Mads Mikkelson and rain. Didn’t he get a bit pissed off (or pissed through to be more exact) when they told him that, despite being only feet away from a spacious fully waterproofed hanger, he would have to stand in the pouring rain with his scientific cronies to be outed and then done in?
Rain loves you Mad. Trust us.
Yeh right.
And what is it with that lever? Which lever, you ask? That all-critical lever which holds the key to successfully transmitting the Death Star plans off the planet and destroying the Empire’s ultimate terror weapon. Oh yeh, that lever. Got to be somewhere pretty secure right? Absolutely - if you count on top of a table in the middle of an exposed clearing as 'secure'. Without even a roof. Obviously doesn’t rain here (which is why they put Mads Mikkelsen somewhere else). What it gives us is killing ground, stacks of if, that various proto-jedi misfits can make a big deal of dying in the middle of.
And what is it with Forest Whitaker? I never would have believed that one man could cram so much acting into a single semi-armoured body suit. Imagine what it would have been like if he could actually breath? The destructive power of the Ferocity Level 3 Death Star would have paled into insignificance.
Last year the youngest went mad over The Force Awakens. For a short time it was 1977 all over again. But when he came back from seeing Rogue One with his mates and I asked him what he thought I was struck by the sheer force of his indifference.
Did you like it?
Kind of.
What happens?
Don’t know really.
Perhaps the problem of how to transfer a computer file through a forcefield without a high capacity drive or wireless connection doesn’t float his boat. Or perhaps Lucas Film shouldn’t base their third acts on solving everyday data transfer issues.
If you’ve been effected by any of the issues featured in this film please contact your technical support team. Or alternatively turn it off and on again.
Having now seen it myself I know what he means. I think the Harry Potter people might have had a hand in this. Because I think I’ve been obliviated. Or something close to it. The experience of watching Rogue One seems to have totally cancelled out the memory of The Force Awakens. I can no longer tell them apart and, more worryingly, can’t really remember either of them. Daisy Jones has faded as a memory, and Felicity Ridley reminds me too much of Eddie Redmayne to be a subject of pleasant contemplation.
It’s a cunning ploy by Disney; make a series of spin-off films that not only remain distinct from the main saga films, but erase any memory of them. So the next one you see feels new and interesting. Which means you can go on making them all exactly the same and no-one will notice. And you can do it forever - or at least until our very own Death Star explodes and finally puts an end to the endless succession of Star Wars sequels and spin offs that, for the moment at least, stretches before us into infinity.
For more on Star Wars check out:
Whose Star Wars?
Pantone 291
Han Solo
@jesoverthinksit
For more on Star Wars check out:
Whose Star Wars?
Pantone 291
Han Solo
@jesoverthinksit
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