I’ve been pretty negative about the new Star Wars movie, reminding everyone within earshot that, while we all admit that the prequels were pretty awful, we should also recall that the original trilogy was no great shakes either, other than being remembered through the same haze of nostalgia that makes us think fondly of The Lord of the Rings trilogy until, being daft enough to attempt a re-read, we find ourselves in a scene in which, as the fellowship travels through a forest, we are presented with five pages consisting of descriptions of each individual leaf.
Thus, while if the film is exceptionally well-received, I might at some point go see it to find out what all the fuss is about (that is, for the sole reason that anyone with a scintilla of intelligence or taste would read The DaVinci Code), the very last thing I ever considered was attending its opening. But I must admit that I am beginning to rethink this. Why? Because against the expense, the lines, and the near-certainly of having to sit through endless light-saber duels has to be weighed the absolute guarantee of not encountering Erick Erickson.