There are reasons: Sith is the last time Lucas will ever skywalk with the Skywalkers on the big screen (talk persists of a TV spinoff). I kept thinking how much better Sith would play as a silent film, with only Chewbacca allowed to do his Wookiee growl and John Williams to trumpet his recycled score.nd yet, Revenge of the Sith is the movie that will do more business (my guess is $400 million-plus), sell more popcorn and brainwash more audiences than any blockbuster this summer. The minute any character - human or droid - opens a mouth to speak, your eyes glaze over. To hear Anakin and his pregnant wife, Senator Padme (the vivacious Natalie Portman rendered vacant), discuss their marriage - a secret that could get Anakin defrocked as a Jedi - is to redefine stilted for a new millennium. In this heretic’s opinion, Sith is a stiff, brought down by that special knack Lucas has of turning flesh-and-blood actors into cardboard cutouts. But thematic darkness is no excuse for dimness in all other departments, except the visual. Heralded for its savagery (my God, it’s rated PG-13), the film follows Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen - to merely call him wooden is an affront to puppets everywhere) as he loses his limbs and his conscience and takes on the evil mantle of Darth Vader.
So have several critics, if you go by early reviews. Fan boys, of course, have convinced themselves otherwise. Because that’s the only way you can totally enjoy Revenge of the Sith - the final and most futile attempt from skilled producer, clumsy director and tin-eared writer George Lucas to create a prequel trilogy to match the myth-making spirit of the original Wars saga he unleashed twenty-eight years ago.
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