Oh yeah I forgot.
Return of the Jedi
Part 1: Awesome, Awesome, Happy-Place!
Part 2: Ewok Capers!
I'm totally with you on that one. It's as if right in the middle of the movie someone pulled the plug on George Lucas' idea tank. After the last gurgle it was refilled with trite, cliche, inane flotsam from the Hollywood money machine.
I was only sixteen and busy making out with a girl I had ditched school with in order to catch an afternoon matinee, and even in 1983 I couln't miss what turned out to be the death throes of George's ingenuity as a film maker. He crashed to the floor; his neck swelled up and he died of anaphylactic shock.
But the SW juggernaut staggered on. Propelled by our love and devotion to 2.5 brilliant films, we sprayed Lysol when an odor began to rise from the spot George had fallen. We averted our eyes when re-released Greedo turned out to be a faster draw than Han Solo, just a really ****ty shot.
When Luke turned out not to have thrown himself off the walkway rather than yield to the Dark Lord but instead had actually slipped on a banana peel...complete with girlish squeal "Yahhhhhhh!"... we knew: George Lucas was an undead mogul. In our slavish devotion we had given him a license to print money.
I will postulate thus: RotJ developed cancer precisely at the stage GL changed it from Revenge of the Jedi to Return of the Jedi. What we saw on screen began to suck not when - as is commonly thought - the first little person swaddled in shag carpeting toddled on camera at Endor but even earlier; on Tattooine, when a badass bounty hunter died a lame death as a Sarlac [sp?] turd.
We didn't know the melanoma was terminal until the first stormtrooper fell to an arrow. We did not realize the extent of the horror until "Yub yub!"... an armored Imperial automaton was crushed by a tree trunk. History did not realize scale of this atrocity until decades later with the conclusion of the Jar Jar Binks trilogy.