Vanity, Thy Name is Vader

I’m a big fan of Star Wars. Okay, I’m more a Vader ho than a series fan, but hey, what can I say? I like tall men in boots, cloaks and black masks, and there’s a really hot and husky rhythm in his respirator. 

Admittedly, that may be too much information. My passion for the Dark Lord, however, is why I was particularly excited to see “Episode III: Revenge of the Sith” some years ago. Being third in the story sequence but sixth (and last) in the movie series, it promised to provide closure on the story of Anakin Skywalker’s betrayal of his Jedi training and descent into service of the evil Galactic Empire. This was the episode where we witnessed his transformation from star pilot hero to mechanized villain, or how a handsome and promising young warrior went so horribly, tragically wrong. 

Great garment-rending plot potential, yes? I thought so. But all six episodes are “leave your brain at the door” popcorn movies spinning the universal tale of good vs. evil, with the hero triumphant and the bad guy finding deathbed redemption. At its best, it’s a fun romp through space. At its worst, it’s a mindless monster that became an example of art imitating life by consuming its creator and spitting out the Emperor of Mass Marketing. No matter. I went in with my eyes wide open, caring solely for Anakin’s tipping point and Vader’s subsequent rise. 

Ter and I saw the movie before our dear friend Treena did. That we saw it first was a bit of a surprise, as Treena is a frequent cinema flyer averaging two or three movies per month. She’s also got fairly high standards when it comes to screenplays and dialogue. After I saw the film, she asked me how it was, I gushed, and she followed up with a question about the dialogue: Were there any memorable lines? 

“Treen,” I replied, exasperated, “this is Star Wars, not Shakespeare!” 

Some years later and I find this at the bookstore:

 

 

Oh, I am Fortune’s fool …