Image copyright © by Marcus Trahan

Solo: A Star Wars Story


This is the last Star Wars movie I have seen, and it’s quite likely to be the last ever. I’ve grown very tired of it, just as I was underwhelmed by the first Harry Potter spinoff about beasts, whatever that was called, and didn’t bother with the second one. Like most people, I was stunned by the first Star Wars, Episode IV, and enjoyed V and VI. I eventually realized I was watching Episodes I, II, and III out of a sense of … well, almost duty, I guess. And I watched VII. But I passed on VIII and when IX slouches into theaters to be born this Xmas, I won’t be there to greet it. For one thing, I don’t care to see Carrie Fisher’s re-animated corpse frogmarched through another episode. I think that is not only creepy, it’s sort of obscene.

As for this one, it’s more of the same, minus the storm troopers. I don’t really give a fuck about Han Solo’s back story. And the stooge they got to play him hasn’t one millionth the charisma of Harrison Ford. It has been classed as a “box office bomb,” though it’s hard to see a film that grossed about $400,000,000 as a bomb, even though it cost a staggering $275,000,000. Still, if that’s a bomb, then please bomb me.

It co-stars Woody Harrelson, and to my surprise, Emilia Clarke. I have to admit I didn’t even recognize her. The thing is, without the blazing white wig she wore as Daenarys Targaryan in Game of Thrones, she’s fairly easy to overlook. Not that she’s not pretty, she’s gorgeous, but your eye is drawn to that wig. She says she can go out in public and nobody notices her.