After The Phantom Menace travesty (or tragedy, take your pick), I told myself rather firmly that I wasn’t going to get worked up about the next Star Wars movie. And I’ve done very well at not going through web sites, checking out the Star Wars home page, or following magazine articles. I’ve seen only one single trailer for the movie (the no-sound, visual flashes that was released months ago), and no TV spots at all. I stopped reading Star Wars books (another guilty pleasure) back when the line was sold to Del Rey and R.A. Salvatore wrote that dreadful Vector Prime thing.
Then Taras had to bring the new soundtrack to the NSW game last weekend.
I am undone. Damn them all. The soundtrack is fantastic. The quality of work is even from beginning to end, sweeping, and balanced emotionally. Terrific new themes. Excellent re-introduction of old themes from Ep 1 as well as the Force theme, and that chilling little bit called The Imperial March put in such a creepy place that it hits you broadside. They even still use Anakin’s theme at the end, the second repetition played over two or three instruments quietly creating the Imperial March under it all, so that you barely notice it. Creepy, I tell you.
Now I’m excited.
Well, it will have spaceships, and lightsaber battles, and excellent costumes, and impressive sets. I’m fine with that. So what if George Lucas can’t write a love story. I’ve learned to not expect brilliant scripts from films in general. I suspend a lot of expectation when I walk into a theatre now; maybe I’m getting cynical in my third decade, but if I don’t expect anything, I’m always pleasantly surprised.
I take what I’m given and put myself into the story, and if I enjoy it, hey, that’s great. Good music is essential for that in my cosmos. (Lightsabers and starships are good for me too.)
Now if you will pardon me, the end credits just finished. I have to go hit the Play button again.