In Die Hard WIth A Vengeance, Bruce Willis is forced to perform the arduous task of walking through Harlem wearing a sandwich board, proclaiming his hatred for the somewhat psychotic inhabitants. A Very Stupid Thing I'm sure you'll agree, on par with an Eton-like walking into the moshpit at a Marilyn Manson concert. Or casually wandering into a bar full of Hell's Angels, kicking over a few bevarage-strewn tables and announcing that you will be outside should anyone wish to express their objections.

An equally dubious task, albeit a lot less likely to result in cosmetic surgery, is surely to print a scathing, honest, hate-filled review of Star Wars. On the Internet. Sheesh. Talking about asking for trouble.

See, the thing is I hate Star Wars. Not just the films, I hate the whole "50s sci-fi throwback" kitsch celebration, the hammy acting... oh, I completely abhor the whole thing. Most of all, I hate the almost obsessive euphoria attached to it by its many fans (one of my peers, I recall, attended a showing of this newest instalment with a lightsabre. And he’s 23!). Granted, as a child I find it all mindless fun. But that was as a child. These days I find life a little more involved then getting aroused everytime someone mentions Boba frigging Fett, or dancing around a cinema foyer play fighting with plastic swords. Maybe it’s just me.

So when I finally agreed to watch Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace a whole 30 months after its release here in the UK, I did so with a surprisingly open mind. After all, amid the lunch boxes, beach towels, Jedi snacks and multiplex campers, it's possible to forget there is actually a movie behind all the hoo-ha. Unsurprisingly, though, it was after around, ooh I'd say five minutes, when it was I who was really starting to "have a bad feeling about this".

Indeed, after the strange sensation of rewatching the same-but-different opening crawl, the early scenes are incredibly boring. See, in a galaxy far (etc) away, an imminent conflict brews between the powerful Trade Federation and the peaceful planet of Naboo, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) travel to Naboo to warn the Queen (Natalie Portman) of the galactic fallout which is to follow. Evacuating to the desert planet of Tatooine, they discover slave boy Anakin Skywalker (Jake Lloyd) whom Jinn senses is symbiotically in league with The Force.

Seems harmless enough. Of course, that is until the credits throw up the most damning six words known to mankind: written and directed by George Lucas. What The Phantom Menace makes clear is that Lucas is more technician than storyteller. This is, after all, the first film he's directed since the first Star Wars, with THX 1138 and American Graffiti his only two others.

How, then, has this flash-in-the-pan, who made less films than the likes of the 'up-and-coming' M. Night Shalmayan, such a towering profile, considering how lean his directorial resume is? And it's precisely this inexperience that makes The Phantom Menace more than a let-down: it actually undoes the myth and magic that the first three movies forged in the hearts and minds of millions of movie lovers (but not this one) way back when.

Indeed, the films most initially apparent fault is with Lucas' primitive writing, as he insists on peppering the slow-paced plot with silly accents and bodily function jokes. Sorry, are we still in the 70's, or did such 'humour' die out with Peter Sellers? Equally obnoxious is the insultingly stupid dialogue, which actually contains lines such as "Greed can be a very powerful ally" "deep doo-doo" and "In any Universe, that's gotta hurt". It’s almost as if nobody bothered to tell Lucas that dialogue needs to be, well, interesting. Saying that, you’ve also got to wonder whether poor George ever got read bedtime tales as a child, as his story-telling technique is simply atrocious. Those looking for anything approaching a coherent structure will go away sorely disappointed.

Worst of all, writer-director Lucas explains away the most mystical of Forces with simplistic scientific nonsense that would've been laughed off by even Ed Wood himself. Seriously, are we expected to believe that The Force is excreted from some kind of intelligent bacteria? We are? Seriously?

As for the characters themselves, what can you say? No, seriously, what can you say? Darth Maul (Ray Park), the supposed bad guy, who has about as much personality as a plughole, is about as menacingly potent as Tinky Winky. He has just two lines of dialogue and yet we are meant to believe that he is some sort of universally-feared tyrant who is capable of destroying all who crosses his path. Shame then that he has absolutely no air of evil about him, as all the classic cinematic baddies should.

Thus, by the time the final lightsabre battle comes round, in which we are to fear for the very souls of our heroes, it all feels a little flat. Of course, this could also be because said battle is so strictly choreographed that it looks like a poor mans ballet, where the characters pirouette around each other, and run around trying to find their markers. The inclusion of Woo-ping Yuen to oversee the fights may have improved things, but then again so too could Academy Awards choreographer Debbie Allen.

Additionally, the Neeson/McGregor/Portman trio is simply a lazy retread of the Solo/Luke/Leia gang from the early films, Samuel L. Jackson sleeps his way through what is nothing more than an extended cameo, which can also be said of the obviously disinterested Terence Stamp. Portman, on the other hand, throws in a rather capable performance, even if she looks as though she’s relying on the Facial Expression school of acting.

The real thumbs-down, though, must surely go to Lloyd, whose performance as the young protégé takes the word ‘incompetent’ to new levels. Where did they find this kid? Surely it wouldn’t have been too hard to ask Lucas to cast someone who was actually capable of acting? Or did Lucas expect that we’d forgive him this obviously rushed bit of casting, purely because of Lloyd’s tender age? It’s like Haley Joel-Osment never happened.

At this point, though, I must interject with a certain aspect of this film that will strike for into all sci-fi aficionados: Jar. Jar. Binks. Whatever can be said about this terrible, terrible TERRIBLE character has been said before. Let’s be honestly brutal, the high-pitched little git is purely unbearable. The worst aspect of this CGI-monstrosity is the manner in which Lucas actually defends the globally slated character, citing the fact that audiences also hated the Ewoks. Yes George they did, not because they are fickle, and not because they weren’t ready for their cuddly-but-killer attitude. It’s because they were crap puppets, cynically introduced to appeal to the kiddies, and line your wardrobe with even more chequered shirts. Audiences hate these walking tufts of recto-pubic hair as much now as they did back then, and Jar Jar is sure to be no different. So why defend them George? Is it because you feel they add much-needed wittiness to the franchise? Or is it because LucasArts marketing department heard the distant ker-ching of cash tills as the huge number of merchandising opportunities reared their heads? Talk about being totally out of touch with your own fanbase.

It’s not just the basic script, dodgy marketing and awful acting that causes The Phantom Menace to crash and burn in such a spectacular fashion. Lucas’s direction is also severely lacking. What summer blockbuster, pray tell, begins with a 10-minute intergalactic conference? Yes George, because the kids came to see this film due to their interest in politics, right? And while the reported $115 million budget has gone a long way into the look - the magical locations, the columns of computerised clones – it’s hardly awe-inspiring. The effects were outmoded by the time The Matrix had hit the scene, while Lucas’s style has remained pretty static over the years.

As for the numerous set pieces, they are handled in such an inept manner that they serve only to remind of the impressive potential this film possessed. The infamous pod race, the storming of the palace, the raging intergalactic space battle… all on paper seemed sure-fire hits, but thanks to some extremely unsure cinematography (hasn’t Mr Lucas ever heard of the word ‘retake’?) they serve all the impact of a bogey flicked at a plateful of jelly. It all just feels so damn lazy, as though everyone knew that the fans would happily part with their money regardless of whether or not any of it is actually any good. There’s no denying that, in more experienced directorial hands, The Phantom Menace could have actually lived up to its own hype. A Steven Speilberg, a Barry Sonnenfeld, even - heaven forbid - a Michael Bay would have injected this with at least a little flair and excitement, because as far as eye-candy is concerned, they know what audiences feed off. Lucas, it is safe to say, needs to do a lot more research before attempting to pick up a camera again.

22 years worth of hype probably did this film little help. After all the glossy pullouts, Vanity Fair covers and audience expectations, it was pretty impossible to ignore the sheer weight of expectancy The Phantom Menace carried. Having not bought into that hype, however, I have little leeway in which to offer sympathy. Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace is a bad movie on far too many levels. The acting is stilted, the narrative plodding and the characters purely unlikeable.

In trying to satisfy the franchise’s (deluded) fans, the studio’s expecting the big bucks, and his own inflated ego, Lucas has forgotten one teeny, tiny detail: a story. And unless he learns to improve his talents dramatically before Attack Of The Clones comes around, he may find the majority of his fans going cold turkey on him long before the final instalment is due.


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