a sudden pop-culture moment of zen

Laid up on the couch feeling awful, but cheered by reading Nathan Rabin's My Year of Flops, a collection of his A.V. Club columns about mostly-terrible sometimes-overlooked box-office-failures with some new material added for the print edition-- anyway he was writing about Howard the Duck, as one does, and said something to the effect that George Lucas, when he first made Star Wars, was perfectly in touch with the zeitgeist, only it was the zeitgeist of 1937 (let's make a gee-whiz slam-bang action-packed serial with guys in weird armor and scantily clad princess)--

-- and I suddenly realized that this explains everything to me about the &%*(&(&! prequels: it was twenty years later, and so what Lucas had in his head was c. nineteen-fifty-seven. No seriously doesn't that make all the sense in the world? That these movies come from the mind of someone who thinks Pal Joey is the hip, happening thing and thinks in words such as 'hip, happening thing'? Or maybe he's moving a little slower than that, which would explain why the only other movie romance I've seen as horrifically deadly as the Star Wars prequels one is the young couple from the 1948 Thief of Bagdad (though in that case it's a sad distraction from a ludicrously entertaining movie).

This implies that in ten years or so he might discover disco. I look forward.

a sudden pop-culture moment of zen

Laid up on the couch feeling awful, but cheered by reading Nathan Rabin's My Year of Flops, a collection of his A.V. Club columns about mostly-terrible sometimes-overlooked box-office-failures with some new material added for the print edition-- anyway he was writing about Howard the Duck, as one does, and said something to the effect that George Lucas, when he first made Star Wars, was perfectly in touch with the zeitgeist, only it was the zeitgeist of 1937 (let's make a gee-whiz slam-bang action-packed serial with guys in weird armor and scantily clad princess)--

-- and I suddenly realized that this explains everything to me about the &%*(&(&! prequels: it was twenty years later, and so what Lucas had in his head was c. nineteen-fifty-seven. No seriously doesn't that make all the sense in the world? That these movies come from the mind of someone who thinks Pal Joey is the hip, happening thing and thinks in words such as 'hip, happening thing'? Or maybe he's moving a little slower than that, which would explain why the only other movie romance I've seen as horrifically deadly as the Star Wars prequels one is the young couple from the 1948 Thief of Bagdad (though in that case it's a sad distraction from a ludicrously entertaining movie).

This implies that in ten years or so he might discover disco. I look forward.

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