Punk Tacos HD Radio Station
The Chive


   The funniest, nastiest movie reviews anywhere.

Cinemark Cinemas
T-Shirt Hell

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Happy Jihalidays!  The property that brought you The Force, acceptable borderline incest and bipedal Yorkies (Ewoks, you fucks) is now proud to present the Iraq war in a galaxy far, far away where, I guess, we're supposed to identify with Al-Qaeda?

Yuppers, Hollywood has finally caught up with books, cartoons, video games, comic books, fan fiction and probably 10 other things ol' Cinemavenger's not hip enough to know about and brought the Star Wars extended universe (I.E. anything that's not the nine chapters Papa Lucas originally thought up) to the big screen.  La-di-fucking-Yoda.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (you know, in case anyone in the actual universe didn't realize this was a Star Wars story) is Chapter 3.5 in the Star Wars saga.  It takes place after the suck-fest of the prequels and plows right into the supple ass of Episode Four: A New Hope a/k/a the original Star Wars.  Like The Force Awakens, it's a fanboy's Niagara Falls dream of retreaded plots and in-joke callbacks.

Not that there's anything wrong with callbacks.  Callbacks sprinkled into a kickass story that grabs you by the gonads and makes your head spin with possibilities are as welcome as a wet kiss on the dick.  But here's a little secret.  When your story is recycled Bantha poodoo, your characters have the depth of an empty kiddie pool and, thus, the audience cares more about the death of a droid than about the deaths of any of the human characters, then callbacks are pandering fucknuggets unworthy of Honey Jawa sauce.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.  The Empire is bad, m'kay, and it wants to rule the galaxy.  Some people aren't cool with that.  They're called Rebels, and their only chance to defeat the Empire is to find a way to disable a shield and overcome insurmountable odds to stop Darth Vader.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Rogue One is about how Jyn Erso (Felicity "Tees" Jones) leads the effort to steal the plans to the newly-built Death Star and get them to the Rebels so that Princess Leia can stash them in R2, kiss her brother, find out she kissed her brother, feel vaguely icky about it for a minute or two, go on to lead the rebellion, hang out with some Ewoks, eventually fuck Han Solo and give birth to Kylo Ren. 

It has enough crazy looking aliens to give a build-the-wall idiot nightmares, a freshly-minted Darth Vader Force-choking the fuck out fools, good-guy Rebels cold-bloodedly murdering people who just helped them, a blind dude who fights better than a ninja Ali, and the guy who, no fucking shit, is responsible for the two-meter wide exhaust port that's the Death Star's only weakness (just for the record, how fucked up is it that no one bats an eye that "a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away" they used the metric system?), and yet the most unbelievable thing in Rogue One is that a bunch of people get snuck the fuck up on by AT-ATs.

December 16, 2016