Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****
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1- Qi’ra
2- Padmé
3- Jyn Erso
4- Rey
5- Leia (Ep. IV one)
6- Korr Sella
7- Dorme
8- Val
9- Barris
10- Sabine -
@ACT-Crusader said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
1- Qi’ra
2- Padmé
3- Jyn Erso
4- Rey
5- Leia (Ep. IV one)
6- Korr Sella
7- Dorme
8- Val
9- Barris
10- SabineNot sure the question was which Star Wars heroines would you like to bang in order of preference
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@Virgil said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
@ACT-Crusader said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
1- Qi’ra
2- Padmé
3- Jyn Erso
4- Rey
5- Leia (Ep. IV one)
6- Korr Sella
7- Dorme
8- Val
9- Barris
10- SabineNot sure the question was which Star Wars heroines would you like to bang in order of preference
aayla secura number one once they wash all the blue paint off.
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Star Wars Resistance gets canned. Saw a couple of episodes and it was really shit.
It's been a cavelcade of **** recently. Solo bombs, theme park bombs and tv show bombs. Toy sales are pitiful and even interest in episode 9 is nowhere near what it was for earlier films. Hopefully the Mandalorian digs them out of this hole.
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@Rancid-Schnitzel the theme park has bombed? Bugger.
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@Crazy-Horse said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
@Rancid-Schnitzel the theme park has bombed? Bugger.
I believe it has almost nothing from the Original Trilogy. Speculation that GL still has the rights to OT characters or something. Who knows.
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@Crazy-Horse said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
@Rancid-Schnitzel the theme park has bombed? Bugger.
I don't think it has officially bombed, apparently they deliberately priced it higher at the start to reduce crowds and it was a little too successful (and all the hotels etc in the area raised prices too).
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@Nepia said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
@Crazy-Horse said in Star Wars VII ****contains spoilers****:
@Rancid-Schnitzel the theme park has bombed? Bugger.
I don't think it has officially bombed, apparently they deliberately priced it higher at the start to reduce crowds and it was a little too successful (and all the hotels etc in the area raised prices too).
I'm sure it will be fine
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Nick Pinkerton is one of the best film critics. Enjoyed his thoughts on Star Wars.
Lynch’s oddness has always been part and parcel of his reputation, and if it’s an affectation, it’s one that began a very long time ago—a 1979 video interview with the filmmaker, giving a tour of Eraserhead shooting locations, is in every respect familiar as an early draft of the still-against-interpretation Grand Old Man subject of the 2016 documentary David Lynch: The Art Life, though he hasn’t yet taken to buttoning the top button of his shirts. A newly minted cult director, the then-33-year-old Lynch’s future was very far from certain. Among the odder bits of Star Wars universe lore involves George Lucas extending an invitation to direct Return of the Jedi (1983) to Lynch, then known only for his midnight movie phenomenon and his widely praised period piece The Elephant Man (1980). One can, on YouTube, view an on-stage palaver in which Lynch describes his wooing by Lucas, replete with a visit to the Skywalker Ranch, where, while battling a slowly tightening migraine headache, Lynch was feted with Wookiees and other exotic creations. As Lynch recalls: “He showed me many animals and different things.” I was thinking about this story while watching Star Wars: The Last Jedi, the Rian Johnson–directed eighth installment of the core Star Wars film series, and the second to be released since the October 2012 deal in which The Walt Disney Company, in pursuance of Chairman and CEO Bob Iger’s policy of investing heavily in character properties, purchased Lucasfilm for $4.05 billion, divided between cash on the barrelhead and DIS stock. I thought of it because The Last Jedi features Laura Dern, an actress whose career is inextricably connected to that of Lynch, from 1986’s Blue Velvet to her role in Twin Peaks: The Return as Diane Evans, Coop’s secretary, often addressed but never seen in the original series. In both The Last Jedi and Twin Peaks, Dern appears with surprising hair—a lilac wash in the former, a bobbed platinum blonde helmet of a wig in the latter—though the resemblance between the characters stops there. For Johnson she is a beatific martyr of the Resistance fleet; for Lynch she is a wounded woman addicted to vodka and gel manicures with as many ways of saying “Fuck you” as Eskimos have words for snow. If one is so inclined, there are other parallels to be drawn out between the two franchises. Both have created worlds which revolve around a Manichean struggle between hopelessly commingled forces of light and darkness: Jedi and Sith in Star Wars, the White and Black Lodges in Twin Peaks. (The Last Jedi even has a “Red Room” of its own, occupied by the First Order’s Supreme Leader Snoke.) Both also have roots that reach into the rich, loamy fundament of humankind’s collected mythology. In the case of Star Wars, the mythic connection is a willful and premeditated one—franchise creator Lucas has spoken at some length on the influence on his film by the ideas contained in mythologist Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces. In the case of Twin Peaks it is somewhat harder to gauge with any accuracy what Lynch’s references are, for he is infamously mum on such matters, but consciously or unconsciously he too is drawing from the wellspring of lore and legend. The superficial thematic similarities between the Star Wars and Twin Peaks universes aren’t brought up here with the intention of creating the impression of some equivalency. I consider Twin Peaks: The Return to be an epochal work of moving image art, while The Last Jedi is lugubrious offal almost entirely lacking in merit as art or entertainment. The third Peaks season is handcrafted, idiomatic—the uncompromised work of the 71-year-old Lynch and 64-year-old Mark Frost, his partner on the original run of the show. The Last Jedi was written and directed by a man who was six years old when the first Lucas-directed Star Wars movie was released—it’s an industrial undertaking in what, with the exit of Lucas, has a revolving-door franchise. Speaking of Lucas in the abovementioned interview, Lynch regarded the director as a peer: “I always admired George. Y’know, George is a guy who does what he loves, and I do what I love. The difference is, what George loves makes hundreds of billions of dollars.” Lynch had his own brush with attempted blockbusterdom; the movie that he directed instead of Return of the Jedi was 1984’s Dune, a ravishing folly adapted from Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel of the same name. Dune was made under the auspices of Italian producer Dino De Laurentiis, a Hollywood outsider who came from a Neapolitan family in the pasta-making business, and his daughter Raffaella, and for all its airs the Dino De Laurentiis Corporation was essentially a family business, as unlike the contemporary Walt Disney Company as was the Lucasfilm of 1977 or the scrappy little start-up at the Hyperion studio in Silver Lake that toiled for three years to make Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). It flopped resoundingly, but Raffaella still cut that check for Blue Velvet. Would Bob Iger? Much of what is dearest in cinema can be credited to brash buccaneers and independent operators working at the periphery, though few are the film artists, like Lynch, who can maintain freedom of the margins without falling off the radar entirely or being buried alive by success. Regardless of what one thinks of Lucas’s directorial output—and I don’t think of it very often—he is a creative artist and a visionary of sorts, though working a very different bailiwick than a Lynch or, especially, a Brakhage. The work of the latter appears to be among the many influences synthesized in the infamous eighth episode of Twin Peaks: The Return, the large part of which is occupied by a headlong dive into the undulant stem of a mushroom cloud blossoming over the White Sands Missile Range, which renders up a whorl of buffeting abstractions set to Krzysztof Penderecki’s cacophonic 1960 composition “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima”: dye whorls and a locust-like swarm of dancing pinpoints and a lazy rain of ash preceding a grand finale of particolored explosions and a plunge into a lake of fire. ... It is quite possible that Lucas encountered the work of the Kuchars during his time as a habitué of Bruce Baillie’s Canyon Cinema screenings in San Francisco that nourished his ambition to make movies. It remains unknown if the filmmaker, immured in his Marin County acreage, will ever deliver on his longstanding threat to turn to making “experimental films,” but he seems well and truly to have retired from directing tentpole projects, news that has been greeted in some quarters with relief. Recently while watching an episode of a Netflix-produced miniseries about iconic toy lines dedicated to Kenner Products’ design and manufacture of Star Wars action figures, I was hung up on a tossed-off line from the bubbly narrator, describing the return to normalcy signaled by the sequel trilogy after what was widely received as the disappointment of the prequels. The franchise, we’re told, was now “All in the safe hands of Disney’s creative teams.” That such a phrase can be delivered as received wisdom indicates the degree to which so many have become chillingly inured to the concept of corporate bureaucracy acting as a guarantor of the public good. The idea that an author is the owner of the intellectual property that they produce is a relatively young one—as a legal concept its origins line up roughly with early 19th-century Anglo-American Romanticism and its conception of the artist as individualistic Promethean creator. The collaborative nature of film of course made the designation of hero-artist credit somewhat trickier, and continues to do so, but from quite early on the director was considered the best candidate, a common assumption codified in auteurist polemics. In the history of industrial filmmaking—among other things the history of a struggle between creative workers and the front office—the ascent of the celebrity director was a P.R. win for the artists. Subsequently, however, a reorganized, restructured, and far more risk-averse front office has, in Lucasian language, struck back, redirecting attention with great success from directors to properties. As a result, we today have fanboys eager to rejoice over the merger between Disney and Fox and chummy exchanges with personable, wisecracking, shitposting corporate Twitter accounts. Being of the world, cinema must always be compromised by the world; we know this. And cinema, we know, can be born and even thrive in seemingly hostile climates—but I would venture to guess that just below out-and-out despotism and the guidance of an all-powerful state, the safe hands of consensus-seeking corporate creative teams, as distinct from the old atelier-like studio model, provide just about the worst possible midwife for it. True and worthy work can be made in such an environment, just as a tree can grow out of an abandoned parking lot, but the circumstances aren’t exactly optimal. Taking the historical long view, which offers plenty of precedent for the present sad state of affairs, should not diminish the fact that theatrical cinematic offerings have rarely ever been worse than they are right now.“ These giant multinational corporations are filled with monstrous vermin, poisonous, vile murderers, and they eat, drink, and shit money,” to borrow one of Dr. Amp’s rants, splenetic sales pitches for gold-plated shovels. Entertainment conglomerates deal with flesh-and-blood artists by necessity, but what they love most of all are cold, pliable intellectual properties with a time-tested appeal—hence the imposing roster that Iger has put together at Disney, and hence the rampant rebooting that both The Last Jedi and Twin Peaks are, after a fashion, symptoms of. Both are oriented toward the past and the relationship, frequently unsettled, that their characters have to it. “It’s time to let old things die,” Adam Driver’s Kylo Ren proclaims in The Last Jedi, but his rip-it-up-and-start-again proposition is countermanded not only by Daisy Ridley’s Rey, beholden to tradition, but also by the film’s coda, in which a preadolescent generation of potential Resistance recruits recount the legend of Luke Skywalker among themselves, like Christians in the catacombs. Continuing the renovation job begun by J. J. Abrams’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015), Johnson’s movie kills off more of the original cast while slowly ceding the narrative to younger characters, a bid to continue the franchise into perpetuity with a transfusion of young blood. The lore is the thing, the interpreters only incidental, like clerics through the ages, and the popular culture of your youth will be the popular culture of your middle-age. “Is it future… or is it past?”
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Final Trailer about to hit the screens at around 2pm NZT.
The teaser trailer had an awesome shot of a motley flotilla of every imaginable spacecraft led by the Falcon. Eagle eyes have spotted the Ghost from SW Rebels.
Starting to tighten up theories that at least some of the characters in that show will turn up. There has also been a rumour of a ground battle shot with Ahsoka Tano and Ezra Bridger.Waiting....