badatapologies (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badatapologies) wrote2007-07-25 12:02 pm
badatapologies) wrote2007-07-25 12:02 pm
I have a very bad feeling about this...
Just woke up from a hilarious dream. I was at a big party/reception at Skywalker Ranch, where a bunch of us (including ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toddalcott) had just sat through not one, not two, but all three Star Wars prequels. Consecutively. And Alcott and I were discussing the matter in the lobby. I was much less pleased with the films than he was (which is not to say he was wild about them), and we were discussing what I called "the lack of mystery" and the "pointlessly byzantine story arc" when a bearded older gentleman joined our group and asked "So, what did you think?"
I didn't miss a beat. "I admire what you were trying to do," said I. "But I don't think it worked. Oh, visually they're masterpieces, moviemaking will never be the same, but the story really fell apart. And those racist caricatures, God. And long? Hoo boy. And don't even get me started on the love story--"
Mr. Lucas was angrier than I expected. Much, much angrier. Started asking me what I'd done careerwise to make me such an expert on cinema, how many millions of devoted cosplay fans I had. Ranting and raving, veins bulging in his neck, rattling off his successes (amusingly enough, loudly proclaiming the unheralded creative merits of Ewoks). "Wait, stop-- I love your work!" I stammered. "You've made some of the best and most important films of my life, I just don't feel like this was one of them, I--"
But it was too late. Still swearing like a sailor, Lucas had stormed off. Probably to summon the Rancor.
"What the hell are you doing?" asked Alcott.
"Speaking truth to power?" I shrugged. "I thought you liked that about me."
"There's a time and a place," said Alcott. "Insulting George Lucas at his own party isn't my idea of courage, kid. More like--career suicide."
The area around us had cleared, the other partygoers retreating to a safe distance, presumably out of the blast zone. To paraphrase Dr. Orpheus, the whole room smelt it, but verily, everyone knew I dealt it. I pictured the Alcott children's college fund going up in smoke merely because he'd had the disastrous misfortune to be standing next to me in that moment. I couldn't have that on my conscience.
"Maybe you'd better pretend you don't know me--"
Alcott nodded. "I think I'll go mingle."
I nodded. "Probably a good idea." I slouched towards the exit just as Lucas rounded the corner with his guards.
toddalcott) had just sat through not one, not two, but all three Star Wars prequels. Consecutively. And Alcott and I were discussing the matter in the lobby. I was much less pleased with the films than he was (which is not to say he was wild about them), and we were discussing what I called "the lack of mystery" and the "pointlessly byzantine story arc" when a bearded older gentleman joined our group and asked "So, what did you think?" I didn't miss a beat. "I admire what you were trying to do," said I. "But I don't think it worked. Oh, visually they're masterpieces, moviemaking will never be the same, but the story really fell apart. And those racist caricatures, God. And long? Hoo boy. And don't even get me started on the love story--"
Mr. Lucas was angrier than I expected. Much, much angrier. Started asking me what I'd done careerwise to make me such an expert on cinema, how many millions of devoted cosplay fans I had. Ranting and raving, veins bulging in his neck, rattling off his successes (amusingly enough, loudly proclaiming the unheralded creative merits of Ewoks). "Wait, stop-- I love your work!" I stammered. "You've made some of the best and most important films of my life, I just don't feel like this was one of them, I--"
But it was too late. Still swearing like a sailor, Lucas had stormed off. Probably to summon the Rancor.
"What the hell are you doing?" asked Alcott.
"Speaking truth to power?" I shrugged. "I thought you liked that about me."
"There's a time and a place," said Alcott. "Insulting George Lucas at his own party isn't my idea of courage, kid. More like--career suicide."
The area around us had cleared, the other partygoers retreating to a safe distance, presumably out of the blast zone. To paraphrase Dr. Orpheus, the whole room smelt it, but verily, everyone knew I dealt it. I pictured the Alcott children's college fund going up in smoke merely because he'd had the disastrous misfortune to be standing next to me in that moment. I couldn't have that on my conscience.
"Maybe you'd better pretend you don't know me--"
Alcott nodded. "I think I'll go mingle."
I nodded. "Probably a good idea." I slouched towards the exit just as Lucas rounded the corner with his guards.
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In Dreams
Um...there's more passion between peanut butter and jelly?
No, that just sounds like I'm adding my own "marshmallow cream" to the sandwich.
Anyway, I would've still mingled with you. But I'm not pestering George for any movie deals. I just want some props.
Re: In Dreams
We do not discuss the Underdog film. It may in fact be proof of the existence of Satan.
Re: In Dreams