I had my opportunity to see ROTS for the 6th time, this time finally in the Digital venue as it was intended. On that cue, and given that as of the day I began writing this entry it's been a month of Star Wars moviegoing, I thought it high time to offer a slightly more comprehensive opinion. At least more comprehensive than these...

Firstly, do go see it in a Digital theater if you can. The quality is noticeably different, the details more crisp, the sound more vibrant and immersive, and there's that cool feeling of sitting there saying to yourself "I'm totally watching Digital Star Wars in Digital. Thank you God."

Over the next few days, I'll offer thoughts character by character, actor by actor, and scene by scene. I hope you enjoy, if not always agree with, the musings of a moviegoing moose....

Ian McDiarmid as Palpatine - Evil Unleashed:
Palpy very nearly stole the show. From a certain point of view, one could almost say this movie was about him if it weren't for the tragic downfall of Anakin, which of course is the real point. Convincingly duplicitous from the beginning, Ian McDiarmid progressively revealed the dark underpinnings of his character over the last 3 films.

If there is any one thing you can say about the dark characters in these prequels, they are all double-sided, and no one carries this duality off with more technical prowess than Mr. McDiarmid. At once a benign and slightly stodgy ruler, he morphs into a character of capacious evil and corruption, truly the Devil in a parallel universe to our own. His quirky and unsettling flashes of Mephistophelean mirth provide delicious samples of the eventual entre.

When I first saw the Emperor in "Return of the Jedi" in 1983, it was clear to me - this was a person of nearly pure evil intent. It overshadowed Vader's relentless hatred with something more sinister. This was Evil that laughed at the chaos, turmoil, and pain it inflicted. This most recent portrayal of that evil gives us a glimpse at its genesis, which in comparison to ROTJ, was played with far more potency. This wasn't an Emperor gaunt with age and burdened with administration - this was a new and recently crowned Emperor, drunk with unlimited power, focused entirely on the potential of his dark agenda.

That Mr. McDiarmid could execute that difference so well is impressive - he didn't just give us back our beloved Palpy, he gave us Young Palpy, a viciously burning star of Sithly menace. Mr. McDiarmid, you made me hate your rotting Palpy guts. Well done on all counts. :0)


Hayden Christensen as Anakin Skywalker - Destiny Found:
It's fitting in a dark-side way that the redemption of Hayden Christensen in the prequels would happen with the fall of Anakin Skywalker, though that is not an entirely fair statement. I believe that Hayden has been intentionally restrained from his craft until this point, giving us only those glimpses of genius when absolutely necessary. It is the way of the George, it would seem.

When Hayden was selected to play the emerging Jedi Padawan Anakin, I knew he was being groomed for the moments in this film that best showcase his mastery of fractured characterization. And there is none more fractured than Anakin becoming Vader. Darth Vader has always been a conflicted character, regardless of whichever dominant persona occupied his torn form.

I will be honest that at first glance, I was concerned about Hayden's portrayal. It was not the same internal turmoil and pensive introspection seen in "Life as a House". Hayden played Anakin stronger, smoother, rebellious, yes, but dryer and less emotionally. Again, this is not something I attribute to Hayden but to George Lucas' vision of the period. We know of Mr. Lucas' penchant for emulation of 30's and 40's-style matinee. We also know he was building a saga that represented epic events, far larger in scale than the characters themselves. Whereas the Original Trilogy was more personal and thus about the characters, the Prequel Trilogy was about the story, which was told from a slightly removed, nearly narrative perspective in terms of how the actors portrayed the characters. So it was with Hayden. In retrospect, Hayden couldn't help but burn through some of the period frigidity George Lucas imposed on this universe, and I rather respect that back and forth creative battle. And though it was muted in Attack of the Clones, the passion is evident in Revenge.

Still mildly restrained by George from acting himself out of the character, Hayden still gave the part inner heat. With that thought, I now see George's plan more clearly. For this character, at this time, Hayden is an amalgam of Control and Fear, as is Darth Vader. The fusion of Control and Fear is as perfect as the collaboration of Lucas and Christensen. Undoubtedly opposing forces, together they create the conflicted icon that is Darth Vader.

Think of Darth Vader. And now think of Anakin. They are opposing forces in the same body. As discussed here, in my entry regarding The Role of Fear, Anakin's pathway to the Dark Side is first and foremost Fear. Darth Vader is the very embodiment of Fear. But these are the two halves of Fear, you see - Fear the Protector vs. Fear the Oppressor. Whereas Anakin's demise is about the loss of control over his Fear, Vader's rise is about the mastery of Fear. We remember Vader's taunting praise of his son Luke, during their first duel on Cloud City: "Obi-Wan has taught you well. You have controlled your Fear." The difference here is, whereas Anakin was mastered by his Fear, Vader uses it as a weapon. Palpatine was right - Anakin's Anger did give him focus. It honed his sense of Fear into the forboding visage of Darth Vader. When I first saw Vader, and for years hence, there was no one more menacing, more relentless, more fearsome than the controlled darkness of Vader. The Fear he instilled could only be eclipsed by the Hatred the Emperor engendered. Vader could literally choke the life out of a room.

And in this vein of thought I bring you to two opposing moments, one as the last moments of Anakin, one as the first moments of Vader, that define Hayden's portrayal. I won't diminish his teary-eyed scenes of dark introspection, but I would rather focus on the delivery of key lines. The first one, to me, is self-evident. When Anakin considers the consequences of his betrayal of Mace Windu, it's only the second time, since his impassioned "I hate them!" in regard to the Sand People, that Hayden truly was allowed to gush: "What have I done!?"

His face and his posture, and his heaving sense of confusion and self-loathing, was so powerful that it turned a simple and seemingly obvious line into a moment that really helped me believe Anakin's torment. Though George wrote it, Hayden owned it.

The second is a moment I have already touched on in the aforementioned Role of Fear entry. This was the moment we see Anakin's destiny via the path of fear, and the irony. As I said in that essay, it is tragic that the one thing Anakin should have feared the most, he embraced instead: "I do not Fear the Dark Side as you do!"

And I felt in that line, the circle was complete. George's vision for Anakin's terrible disintegration became crystal clear. Anakin's Fear had twisted his Hatred into something so relentless that it was willing to destroy itself in a mad leap into destiny. Anakin had become Darth Vader fully. And as such, though Hayden said it, George preached it.

Hayden Christensen's destiny as Anakin was with George Lucas, in a fusion of a brilliant director's control with a brilliant actor's passion. Thanks to both of them for working with, and against, each other.


Natalie Portman as Padme Amidala - Sacrificial Lamb:
I was not so much disappointed in Natalie Portman's acting as I was in her absence. Padme is Leia's mother, was a regal child-queen, and in the first 2 movies mirrored Leia's haughty defiance. But in Revenge, somehow by editing, she was reduced to a weaker role, cowering from the events around her.

Padme was supposed to add to the conflict. She was supposed to be Anakin's protagonist and antagonist at the same time. But they cut her in two surely as Darth Maul no longer needs pants. What was once a deeper character with intellgent politcal accumen as well as feminine allure was left only as a lonely expectant mother, beset by events out of her control. That, to me, was not Padme, and unfortunately now she joins Schmi in undignified ends to Skywalker matriarchs.

Two lines at least demonstrated some backbone, but it wasn't enough to convince me against the apparent anemia of character she suffered elsewhere. When Padme questioned Anakin about the direction of the Republic, and which side was right, I said "Finally - there's the political firebrand Padme..." But then she wilts, puts her head on Anakin's chest and drifts back to Naboo and happier times. Later, when she says "So this is how liberty dies", it at least let's me know she's aware of the turning tide, but without the rest of her thoughts, it appears to be resignation, not rebellion. It also, for some reason, made me cringe, but it was more the line, not totally the delivery.

Padme was pregnant, and not just with twins or A New Hope. We had all been teased with the idea that the Rebellion would begin under her watch, as she joined forces with Bail and Mon Mothma and other key senators. Sadly, all of these key moments were aborted to save the pace of an admittedly already long Star Wars movie. But the pace was certainly quick enough that we could afford a few moments to enjoy our last looks at these characters, I think. This was no saturnine movie - it sped through each time I saw it. Couldn't we have indulged just a tiny bit, George? Think of it as story fiber, not fat.

Padme's role was important across the board. In no small way did she pave the road for Anakin's demise. I am happy with the short moments we had of Natalie Portman's performance. She certainly gave us the pathos, and I truly felt for her character. She made the connection to most of us who have had to watch a loved one falling down a self-destructive mineshaft at one point or another.

But was this all that Senator Padme Amidala, formerly Queen of Naboo, represented? The character gave a life of service to her Republic and to her own homeworld, forged alliances, fought for peace, waged war. In the end, she was reduced to a woman with a broken heart? At least when Anakin found his demise, he became larger than life.

Somehow it doesn't seem fair or fitting that the mother of Star Wars things to come would be denied her full swan song. This is not to say Portman's portrayal was lacking. I just would have liked to see her finish it.

But oddly Padme's role of sacrfice to the Dark Side parallels Portman's sacrifice to her role, and in the end analysis, I felt bad for both women, real and fictional, that they would be led like lambs to the slaughter rather than lions into Star Wars saga history.

All the same, for what short moments we had you around, I bid you adieu, Padme Amidala. As for you, Ms. Portman, I think you got ripped off, girl. Even your last line was cut off: "There is still goo-...."

We can only hope for copious amounts of deleted scenes on the DVD release. So there ya go. Toldya you guys wouldn't agree with everything :0)


Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi - Lost and Found:
Who was once a kindly but mysterious old man whom we knew only briefly in life, and then only as an occasionally cryptic, guilt-weary and haggardly ghost, has now become an old friend.

Ewan McGregor's portrayal of the more youthful and vibrant Obi-Wan was instantly one of the brightest spots of Menace. He ellicited a haunting sense of familiarity with the venerable Sir Alec Guiness, while providing exciting freshness. As much as I loved Liam Neeson's portrayal of Qui-Gon, I loved Ewan's portrayal even more. I pumped hooves in the air when he bisected Maul.

Then came the dark times...before the Empire. Clones sucked the life out of Obi-Wan's exciting debut. I did enjoy his sleuthing and watching him get involved in mysterious galactic puzzles. But I felt AOTC presented Obi-Wan as a less than likeable task master for Anakin, not to mention a watered-down Jedi. Where was the lightning fast swordsmanship, the force-wielding, swashbuckling Padawan of a maverick? I know that Clones was supposed to present Obi-Wan as older and wiser, but that doesn't have to mean slower and boring. So unfortunately, not to mirror another film franchise, what was once found, was lost.

But then came Revenge of the Obi. Ewan was again allowed to have the swagger of youth, and the confidence of a Force master. The wise-cracking one-liners, the close-up stare-downs, the lightsaber-brandishing, dragon-riding, wham-bam-slice-you-man Obi-Wan is back.

At first, like with Hayden, I was concerned. The movie begins with, yes, a more in-your-face Kenobi when it comes to his relentless vendetta with Grievous, but it also briefly lapsed into wimpy, ragdoll Obi-Wan, unconcious for much of the beginning sequence. This followed his characteristic trepidation shown while his own droid tries to outfly him to evade buzz-droids. I silently whispered a prayer to the George not to let Obi-Wan go into that good night so sheepishly, and the George doth answereth, andst Obi-Wan didst smite enemies mightily.

And oddly, this is why Obi-Wan is such an entertaining character - he's so human in that inconsistantly endearing way. He's afraid of flying, but he charges into danger at every turn. He's that hero that is aware of his own fear, and plods ahead anyway. There is no one more courageous than the hero not afraid to admit they're scared out of their minds. That's why I like this guy, I think.

A few scenes come to mind that illustrate this reclaimed virility in Obi-Wan:

1) when he launches out of his fighter onto the Invisible Hand's flight deck, a whirling durbish of lightsabery to which scores of droids had no defense whatsoever. If droids could think indeed...

2) when he drops down smack in the middle of a legion of battledroids, and without much fanfare, dispatches Grievous' mindless bodyguards in a single Force stroke. Splat - We don't want their kind in here, thankyavermuch...

3) when he takes aim at Grievous and with rather uncivilized lack of decorum turns the General into Kaleeshian fondue. Eww...

4) when it came time to do his duty, even against his own brother Anakin, he fought with tenacity, skill and ferocity seen only before in his melee with Maul. His crowning moment of destiny, the moments we had all imagined for decades.

We should not forget Obi-Wan's truly tragic moments as well. Ewan made me feel Obi-Wan's torture as his loyalties were being rended apart, but ultimately tightly contained by his faithfulness to the Jedi code. One of his best moments as Obi-Wan was in Lucas' "scene that explains everything", on Padme's veranda, as he informs her guardedly that he must find Anakin, who has newly fallen to his dark persona as Darth Vader.

As he stings from Padme's accusatory tone - "You're going to kill him, aren't you!?", - Ewan allows Obi-Wan's character to breath a moment, a pause full of unspoken regret and compassion before he says, "He has become a very great threat." And therein was Obi-Wan's ever-present sense of duty, however sad, however hard to do.

And that was Obi-Wan in a nutshell - feeling one thing, but having to do another. He didn't want to hunt Anakin down, but accepted it as his duty. He didn't want to even take him as a padawan, but did so as a promise. He didn't want to hurt Padme, but had to protect the Republic. He didn't want to endure lonely exile on a desert world for the rest of his days, but he did so to protect a new hope. And even in the end, he didn't want to take that deathblow from his old friend, but he did so knowing his destiny, and embracing his faith in the Force. I think in the end, Obi-Wan felt every instinct and feeling against all of his actions, and their consequences, but knew where his duty lay, and that it was always across the path of his own inner peace and safety. And so he shouldered the burden and trudged on.

All in all, I am happy to say this was the Obi-Wan of old, returned to us. The first Jedi to slay a Sith in a millenia, his prowess as a Jedi, as a hero, and as a character are found again via Ewan's masterful and very personal version of Lucas' already wonderful characterization. Ewan gave Obi-Wan a certain depth and realism that I think only his Scottish charm could really accomplish. Being nephew to Denis Lawson (the ever faithful in a dogfight Wedge Antilles), Ewan McGregor was truly a son of the Star Wars saga. I think that he, in many ways, cemented the entire universe George created in the Original and the Prequel trilogies just by being as consumate a professional as Obi-Wan was.

It gives me great joy to know the old master will be back in Episode IV, if only for a short while. Thanks for finding our lost Obi-Wan, George and Ewan. You can almost hear him say his signature line by way of re-introduction - "Hello there." :0)


Samuel L. Jackson as Mace Windu - Hero:
Much has been made of Mace Windu's alleged dark undertones, and I've always maintained that his character is the furthest from evil in the spectrum of heroism vs. villainy. Revenge shows Mace exactly for what he was, a Jedi Hero.

True Heros are problematic, firstly, so I can see where the confusion began. Bravery, to the untrained eye, can look remarkably like aggression. Purpose, likewise, can look like agenda. Clarity can look like ambition. Purity of heart can look very much like a masquerade. It's the times we live in, young padawans, that cloud your mind, not Mace Windu.

Each Jedi has a gift, a focus to their craft. Yoda's was wisdom. Obi-Wan's was tenacity. Qui-Gon's was an understanding of the Living Force. Kit-Fisto's was his martial prowess. And Mace's gift was action, and when to take it - in other words, Clarity. He knew when to eliminate a threat. There was no conflict in Mace, only recognition of evil and his duty to dispatch it. And no, nice try, but I'm not going to go for the obvious Shaftisms about Mace being one bad mutha-anything. Shut yo mouth.

Samuel L. Jackson's fullfillment of the single-mindedness of this character spawned confusion in some of his fans. Was this the Jedi way? Don't Jedi sit around in a circle of illuminati and meditate on action, taking care innocence and justice are upheld? Why be so hasty, Mace?

But isn't that the point? That Mace was able to arrive at these decisions, (with full support of the council, mind you) to take definitive action quickly is exactly what the Jedi needed at this point. Fans have complained for years "Geez, Jedis, can't you see what's happening? Why won't you do anything about it?" But when Mace does something, be it lopping off an assasin's head or going after the Sith that hired him, he's suddenly rumored by some to be a closet dark-sider. But no one questioned Luke's intentions when he acted the same way. The tragedy and lesson there is Luke realized just in time that you can not defeat the Sith directly, as Mace nearly did but failed. You have to let the Sith defeat themselves. But there is no denying what Mace knew with every fiber of his Jedi being - the Sith had to go, and the time for restraint was at an end.

"I sense confusion in you, young Skywalker," Mace admonishes Anakin after learning of Palpatine's true identity as the Sith Lord. He leaves Anakin behind on his final mission, because Mace knows what confusion can do to a person when it's Wyatt Earp time - time for the hero to face down the enemy for the survival of all that's good and decent. This is no time for conflict or debate. The morality lesson is to be doled out, not discovered.

No, Mace, though wise, was not lost in thought. He was a Jedi of Action. And this was not to say he aspired to greatness, either. He looked at those outcomes that were hard for others to look at. Some cry foul and point to the scene in which it becomes clear what must happen if the Chancellor is removed. Mace suggests that the Senate must yield to the control of the Jedi until a peaceful transition can be made. This is not a powerplay, folks - think of the situation. Palpatine owns the government. His agents saturate its ranks. He owns the Judicial (see the case of Nute Gunray vs. The Senate), he owns the Legislative (see Dooku's attempted recruitment speech to Obi-Wan), and he owns the Executive (see Emergency Powers Act). If deposed, wholesale in-fighting begins. A power vacuum yawns at the highest level, and a bureacracy known for it's corruption will instantly start clamoring over its own dead bodies to fill it. But worse yet, on the other side, if a living Palpatine, supposed hero to the Republic, is incarcerated, those loyal to him (both in the know and out of it) will call for heads to roll until he is reinstated. Or even worse, a puppet Chancellor is installed, leaving the Sith master to covertly menace the Republic as he had for years, again, until his own return to power.

Sadly, there was no promising politician waiting in the wings at that moment. Only jackals ready for the great beast to fall over under the weight of its own age and corruption. All that was left was Democracy, the Senate, and the Jedi. Democracy could not be counted on in it's present state to run the Senate. It had to be the Jedi.

And all of this led up to a single conclusion, one that I don't think Mace arrived at lightly, or he would have gone into the Chancellor's office with this intention to begin with - Palpatine had to die. Anakin confuses this moment for his own with Dooku - "No, it's not the Jedi way!" But what he confuses as being evil is not the action, dear padawans, but the reason. He killed Dooku out of revenge, and hatred. Mace was going to kill Palpatine because of duty, and justice.

Samuel L. Jackson played this role with his usual masterful technical proficiency. SLJ has this way, and don't take this wrong, of being...simple. And I mean that in the sense that his portrayal gets to the guts - it's uncomplicated with flourish and nonsense. What I loved about SLJ being in these movies was that he made Mace Windu his own character. Take a gander at Mace in the council chambers - stately. Take a look at him on the battlefield of Geonosis - a beacon of leadership. Take a look at him in Revenge - resolved, not for glory, but for justice and peace. Now go take a look at one of Mr. Jackson's signature roles as Jules in Pulp Fiction. Then you'll get an idea of his diversity.

Mace is not Shaft, nor Jules Winfield, nor is he Reverend Fred Sultan, Danny Roman, Augustus Gibbons, Sgt. Dan "Hondo" Harrelson, Frozone, or even Officer Frank Tenpenny from Grand Theft Auto. Mace Windu is ours - he's no cookie cutter Pacino role (I love Pacino, but let's face it, Pacino plays Pacino like no other). Samuel L. Jackson brought this character to life just for us. And Samuel L. Jackson died this character's death just as he said he would - in a blaze of glory.

I believe he played this role to be the Star Wars version of Hector, of Troy fame. And Hector was who Hector was - a protector of the City, a guardian of light, and a man of action. As was Samuel L. Jackson as Mace Windu.

Because Mace Windu was a Hero.


Anthony Daniels as C3PO - Return of the Goldenrod:
C3P0 is a minor character, with little value other than ambiance and comedy relief. He's basically talking furniture. Right?

Or not. The earliest visions of Star Wars included this character, and in fact it was Ralph McQuarrie's initial sketches of our protocol pal that in part got George Lucas' one silver leg in the door to make his movie.

There was a scary moment at the beginning of The Phantom Menace, several moments as a matter of fact, that stretched into nearly half a movie in which there was no R2D2, and no C3P0. The Domed One made his appearance first, but then later, finally, we had the gangly unfinished 3P0. And then it was Star Wars, and not a moment before.

Because without Anthony Daniels, who was translating R2? It was that reassuring presence, even if evolving from being naked to his more familiar brassy gleam, that told us we were all watching the same movie, the one from 1977, that just happens to have 6 parts and lasts 12 hours long. Could you ever imagine Star Wars without C3P0? Could you ever imagine C3P0 without Anthony Daniels? It's like imagining the world, without Star Wars.

And yet it wasn't always so. We know now that C3P0 was supposed to be more of an "oily used car salesman", and his voice was to be cast as such. Lore has it that even Mel Blanc tried for the voice role. But Anthony Daniels' significantly changed the role into the form we know today. He literally won the part by changing it, by acting it head to toe, not just as a voice, but by willing a walking talking vision to be.

When George made the first trilogy, he tells us now that he did so from the 'droid's point of view. It might not seem like it sometimes, but it holds true, especially in the first installment - wherever the 'droids were going, that's where our heroes were going, too. And whenever they were separated, that's when the real danger started.

C3P0 was one half of those subconcious cues, an invisible but load-bearing support system for the entire saga. And only Anthony could be 3P0, ever. I was convinced, as many 8 year old children were, that there was no Anthony Daniels. It was truly a sentient automoton that they had built for these movies. And yet Anthony managed to give the immovable metallic lines of Threep's face expression, and life.

In Revenge, Anthony was finally tasked to give 3P0 a side we had not seen in a while. We had always seen his "fussy protocol droid" personality, and if he was ever upset, it's because he was distraught, overly prissy, or scared out of his wired wits. In Revenge, Mr. Daniels gave 3P0 a sense of concern and genuine worry, not for himself, but for those around him. We can see this best in his care for Padme as the world seems to be falling apart - "I feel so...helpless."

And in a way, we did, too. This was perhaps Lucas' way of giving our feelings a familiar shape in 3P0. We hadn't seen that really since Empire, as he offers a tinny prayer to the Maker for Luke and Han's safety in the cold night of Hoth.

Anthony Daniels is not just an actor for Star Wars, no more than say your house is just a building. He is one of those people that made Star Wars familiar, as strange as it could get. He made Star Wars home. There is something comforting about seeing him in his gold coverings, shuffling along next to R2. It's rather like peeking backwards into your childhood with the clarity of the moment instead of the fog of years, which, for those that can appreciate it, is a rare feeling.

I'm sure I'm like you in that one of my favorite scenes from the entire saga is from Return of the Jedi, when C3P0 recounts the tale so far, the only tale he knew since the poor droid had his memory wiped. In that touching scene, it reminds us what his role was - to bring it all back around, to bring it all home. And so he has.

Mr. Daniel's Goldenrod has, despite all of Captain Solo's efforts to hurry him along, become a permanent resident. :0)


Jimmy Smits as Bail Organa - Face to a Name:
I don't know about you, but for me Bail Organa was surrounded by a little bit of obscurity, mystery and downright confusion.

Firstly we had the whole "Bail" debacle. Is he Bail, or "a" Bail? Is his name Prestor or did that become some sort of cholestoral medication? And then there was the odd similarity and occasionally inadvertant interchageability with Bail Antilles, captain of the Tantine IV. Bail was a big bag of Alderanian goulash, basically, and it was hard to sort it out.

More central to the story, however, was that this was Bail Organa, Senator of the Republic, father of Princess Leia Organa, Senator of the Empire, (Who of course wasn't Leia Organa at all, but Leia Skywalker, later to be Leia Solo - Try putting HRM Madame President Princess Senator Leia Organa-Skywalker-Solo LLP LTD CPA OBGYN OMG WTF on a license plate). Regardless, this was not just Senator Bail Organa, but he was royalty to boot. He was also confidant of Padme, mother of his own adopted child. He was also one of the forefathers of the Rebellion, and the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

This guy was all over the place. And yet nowhere.

In Attack of the Clones, thankfully, we were gifted with Jimmy Smits, and I wonder if he realized the befuddlement surrounding the role when he took it.

I have to say first that when I ever thought of Bail Organa, my mind did not leap to Jimmy Smits of NYPD Blues and L.A. Law fame. He was a cop or a lawyer, or somehow exploring Hispanic culture (Mi Familia etc), but I did not picture him as the obvious choice for Galactic politics. Now, in the wake of his senatorial role as Organa, it's interesting he has transformed into a politcal role-player in the West Wing as Matther Santos, jockeying for electoral votes.

In lieu of some of my earlier visions for Bail Organa, which probably included a more aged Max Von Sydow or Patrick Stewart or perhaps Ian McClellan, it made sense that he would be a younger man. A passionate man. One with a chiseled look of deep concern on his face. Because as the part is finally fleshed out, only a passionate man would dare to stand up to the Empire. Only a younger man could have been Leia's father.

Before I'm accused of some sort of odd man-moose-love for Mr. Smits, know that I am not entirely satisfied with his role, but it is again something akin to my problem with Padme's portrayal - it was rich with scenery, light on dialogue and detail. But I would be the first to remind people this movie has to be done in 2 hours, so I understand the sacrifices that entails. That being said, I could not help to feel sometimes Mr. Smits knew he was window-dressing.

All the same, I am happy that a face was finally put to the name. I was also pleased to see Bail play in some swashbuckling action scenes, however brief. It does prove to me that, given the chance, he would be an excellent selection for a continuation of the story between Episode III and IV on television.

Jimmy Smits demonstrated that he could be both regal and senatorial while personable, and could fill a complex, and occasionally confusing role with a confusing past. Mr. Smits is no slouch in the acting department either, and at times he gave the screen it's most poignant subtext - see the end of Clones, on the plaform overlooking the paradegrounds with Palpatine, or in Revenge, with his impassioned protest as a Jedi padawan dies at the hands of Clone Troopers.

He gave the part equal portions of detached dignity and incensed passion. I hope there are further plans to have him in the television episodes in the works, because I feel it would foster continuity with the prequels, and I would really like to see his role expanded under Mr. Smits watch, not to mention his professional television acting experience.

I don't have a lot of analysis to give about his dialogue because, as with Padme, it was even more anemic. But I will say that Jimmy Smits played the part given him well, like the multiple SAG and Emmy award winning actor that he is - as well as could be expected with a backstory for His Royal Highness (Senator) Bail (Prestor?) Organa.

Although I can't say I was ever made to truly care about the role (not as much as I thought I should, at least), I should still say thank you for finally putting a face to the name, Mr. Smits. You proved, if nothing else, that we'd probably like Bail, if we ever got a chance to truly understand who the hell he was in the first place! :0)


Temuera Morrison as Everyone Else - Face to a Number:
I have to hand it to Temuera Morrison - he's brave. To have accepted a role that essentially reassigns him from center stage to repetitive anonymity shows real loyalty. That sort of unswerving devotion to one's role is usually seen in...well...Clone Troopers.

I wanted to mention Temuera Morrison because I respect his addition to these films, and his sacrifice. Jango Fett was an exciting and short-lived character, like so many in the Prequels. What swagger and cold professionality he gave to Jango was imbued in his copies.

It's odd, given these new CGI abilities, how these films have moved beyond the old ideas of life imitating art and vice versa. Now, with the ability to make digital clones of an actor, Art imitates Art, and Life imitates Life. Tem's portrayal in each successive scene as a different cloned commander was surely similar, but just barely discernable from one another. Gree didn't move or talk just like Bly. No one was as affable or seeimingly approachable as Cody. Thire seemed to be slightly less autonomous. No one was as cold as Bacara and Neyo.

Even more interesting was the subtle difference between pre- and post-Order 66 demeanor of any clone Temuera Morrison portrayed. You could feel the shift as the audience. What were soliders with qualities you could respect, almost wish were on every street corner protecting your life and property, had become detached and emotionally bankrupt. The figidity in their voice and actions was apparent. What was an army loyal to everyone was now an amry loyal to just one.

Listen to Tem's lines being read as Cody, such as in the Destroyer hangar bay with Obi-Wan: "When have I ever let you down?" Cody was a stalwart companion - someone you'd leave your wallet with. Heck, you might even ask him to watch your kids for a couple of minutes while you popped into the Quicky Mart. Now listen to various Troopers after Order 66: "There's no way he could have survived that fall." and "These Wookiees are all dead. Move to the east."

These were no longer Clone Troopers. What vestiges of humanity were in Jango's clones had been washed away by Palpatine's order. These were relentless, mindless, remoreseless, and faceless killing machines. Notice the subtle shift in their habits. No one removed their helmet after Order 66. These were no longer the heroes of the Clone Wars. These were Stormtroopers.

Which brings me back to Temuera Morrison's portrayal of them. You might say "How hard is it to play the same part, over and over again?" I'd say more importantly, How hard is it to play those roles apart from one another? How hard is it to give what would normally be the same person, with the same temperament and demeanor, different volitions and qualities?

From one Clone to the next, and one fateful moment to the next, Temuera Morrison performed the minor adjustments that demonstrate his finesse. He acted each part as though, against common logic, they were slightly different, which gave all of his portrayals depth where there would be none at all. And then, the transfer back to total uniformity and anonymity completed this technical demonstration of acting prowess. You can almost imagine the clones, years hence, slowly being cleansed of their individuality, their quirks, their ehtics, even their oddly New Zealander accents, until they are nothing more than spent weapons in the Emperor's hands.

Though we might think him unlucky at the lot he was cast, being relegated from Bounty Hunter Rock Star to mere shadows of himself, you have to consider Termuera Morrison's legacy. Behind every helmet from then on in the saga, even the hapless TK-421, you have to ask yourself - Is Tem in there?

Thanks for filling millions of boots, Jango.


R2D2 as R2D2 - 'Nuff Said:
To me, there are a minimum of just 3 simple ingredients to make Star Wars....well...Star Wars. One is the brain of George Lucas (figuratively speaking, of course), one is the venerable C3PO (Anthony Daniels), and then there has to be...HAS to be.. R2D2. Granted, the first two gentlemen mentioned are actual people, one a gifted actor and one a gifted story-teller. But what or who is R2D2? He (he?) is more of a project than just a personality. R2D2 is brought to artificial life in many ways, by many different people. But what's amazing about that process is that through the efforts of a cadre of innovative and persistant folks, there is only one R2D2.

Let's examine this cult of personality for a moment. By all logic and sensibility, R2D2 is a prop. Several props, to be exact. Not to ruin the magic, but there are what...7? 8? 9 "official" R2D2's? Someone on my crack research team get on that for me. And someone get me a crack research team while you're at it. Anyway, to my knowledge, these mechanical creations are meticulously maintained for continuity and reliability by teams of "droid wranglers" and other props and effects folks, headed up by Don Bies, or as this fan affectionately has nicknamed him, D1-BZ. (If you get a chance, take a look at this interesting article about the care and feeding of various droids).

So what do we have here? Motorized cylinders, domed heads, mathcing blue trim. Add Ben Burrt's idea of a "voice" to infuse them with onscreen personality. It moves, it shakes, someone spins the dome around occasionally. One great myopic camera lens for an eye. But I ask you, then - seriously - you don't think of R2D2 as an inanimate object, do you? You think of it as a ...him. I do, too. I'm not even sure why, but we seem to have given him a gender. Perhaps it helps that occasionally our singular fan favorite and original ANH alum Kenny Baker traditionally filled an R2 "suit" for many of the films. But for the most part, R2D2 was a remote control device, or a digital character. I like to think that Mr. Baker left some of his personality in the suit, and it infected the other R2's via programming uplinks. Sure, that's insane, but hey, you try to explain why you can't think of R2D2 as merely a glorified model. That's why the idea behind R2D2 has been often imitated, but never with the same success. There is only one R2D2, by virtue of the personality imbued into him.

If you think of the various other Sci-Fi robots, especially those of non-humanoid configuration, you can feel the difference between personality and prop. Even other droids in the Star Wars universe seem to have less sentient quality than "Artoo". This is achieved by story-telling and cinematic genius. R2D2 has always appeared to be more than what he really is. Maybe because there is an odd sort of subliminal merging of onscreen character and audience reaction. People onscreen, in the Star Wars universe, react to R2D2 with the same impression we do, although theirs is more resigned to the commonplace. To them, and to us, it is extrordinary that what should be merely mechanical has far more inner life than one would think possible, even in a world in which interactions with artificial intelligence is an everyday affair. It's a funny thing to think that our reaction to R2 is perhaps shared in the fictional world. Sort that one out, if you can. The result is that Artoo continues to be a pleasant surprise. He's also rather like a friend you've never met but know quite well.

Episode III was an opportunity to experience several facets of R2D2's personality. With expanded roles and CGI enhancement, Revenge gave us even more freedom for R2 than before, such as an ambling, shuffling walk, leaping, flying, not to mention various other contrivances somehow magically crammed into a 3 foot tall 40 gallon drum - appendages and telescopes and oil slicks on demand. James Bond would dearly love to have this enhanced R2 given 4 wheels, a 400 hp engine and an ejector seat.

And to be fair and honest, there were some things about Artoo's role (you see - you as reader and I as writer, we can't help but talk about him as an actor..odd, isn't it?) in Episode III I sometimes thought a little over the top. For instance, I rather think they overdid his signature "wwwwoooooOOOWWwww" scream just a bit. He was also in a few too many comical schtick scenes, for my taste, although I know one of his functions is certainly for comic relief. But thankfully, R2D2's lighter side was not so overdone that he completely departed from the Artoo we know.

In fact, one criticism I've never felt was fairly leveled was the idea that there was a lack of continuity between "old" Original Trilogy Artoo and "new" Prequel Trilogy Artoo. Questions like "how come he can fly back then?" and "where are all of these cool gadgets now?" and "why doesn't he move like that any more?" The answer lies in the question. What's different about "Old" Artoo from "New" Artoo? Just that - old and new. Let's not forget that the Artoo that we know in the OT is 30+ years older. Not to mention, he was repeatedly blown to bits or fried in the OT. Leave the old guy alone, wouldya? He's doing good just to still be galavanting around, laying down smoke screens, hacking Imperial networks, electrocuting Ewoks and creating diversions for the other heros of the saga, don't you think?

Long and short of it, R2D2 may be, in reality, just several props in various crates, sure. That's what they say, at least, and I'll assign one portion of adult realism to that idea. But, due to the work of many talented people, if I harbor one small belief that he's not just that, hey, so what? If as a child I was fooled, and now stubbornly, against all reason, protect the knee-high conviction that he's a living, thinking, bleeping, rotund little astromech 'droid, who could fault me? If I choose to foster some small bit of childhood fantasy that Artoo is now free to spend his summers trundling about the new Presidio Lucasfilm campus, all the while becoming increasingly eccentric with age and over-repair - so be it, Jedi.

R2D2, like Star Wars, was designed from the drawing board to make us believe in something more. It was just good to see him in action again. 'Nuff said.


Pixels as Yoda - Masterpiece in Motion:
We arrive now at what or who (yet another point of view question) is my most favorite of Star Wars icons, Yoda, whose character has unfolded before us with equal doses of explanation and mystery.

Logistically speaking, Yoda is yet another example of the power inherent in the suspension of disbelief. Like the equally statured Artoo, Yoda is so much larger than his actual size. And like Artoo, Yoda is an amazing contrivance, evolving from drawings to puppetry to computer animation. I think it's interesting in the arc of his character that, while Yoda's personage sharpened in focus over the years, he himself has become less real.

But that has not detracted from the exploration of the character, and in fact has added manifold to our discoveries. In the Prequels, Star Wars purists and progressive fans both got their respective versions of a Yoda fix. Those staunch defenders of Original Trilogy orthodoxy got their last few moments with their beloved Puppet Master, and not before he doled out one of the classic and characteristically cryptic Yoda mysticisms (in fact one of the very best Yoda lines in my opinion) "Fear leads to Anger, Anger leads to Hate, Hate leads to suffering...", thereby outlining the impending demise of Anakin's soul. But in one brief scene in The Phantom Menace, we also saw a glimpse of Yoda 2.0, the computer generated artform that would take his character into new territory.

Firstly, I'd be remiss if I didn't recognize that there is a lot of...sentimentality seems an inadequate word...a lot of outright love for the Puppet version. Giving credit where credit was due, I loved Puppet Yoda, too. It was an amazing risk trying to bring him to life on the screen, and what they were able to accomplish with pulleys and levers and wires was nothing less than astounding in terms of expression and heartfelt acting. My best example of this is Yoda's death scene on Dagobah, which I wouldn't change for all the galaxy. The way he furrows his brow in a combination of aged fatigue and deep regret as he admits the identity of Luke's father is, in a word, irreplaceable.

But, times move on, or as the case may be, move backwards, and the storyline demands more of Yoda. Negligibly younger, but still in the heyday of his heroism, the Prequel story required Yoda to enter the fray in an active role in the war against Evil. Yoda had to move, dodge, parry, jump, and most importantly, we had to see a Yoda mired in frustration and tragic defeat as the Republic, and the Force, succumb to the masterful manipulations of the Dark Lords of the Sith.

Enter Digital Yoda, new and improved with dexterity and acting abilities far superior than the original Frank Oz creation. I remember the excitement when people learned Yoda would face down Dooku in Attack of the Clones. But more importantly, Yoda's acting abilities, thanks to the artistry of his anmators, blossomed. We get our first taste of this in the form of a non-verbal expression, the evolution of the aforementioned "brow furrowing" that so defines Yoda's face, as he peers thoughtfully, some even say suspiciously, at Palpatine in his office at the beginning of Episode II. Later, toward the end, his sadness is convincing as he utters that most ominous line: "Begun, this Clone War has."

But I think in many ways the crowning masterpiece of this moving portrait culminated in Revenge of the Sith, which is appropriate, because Episode III would ask the very most of this great warrior. Again, one of my favorite Yoda moments, aside from his always enjoyable backwards grammar, is non-verbal. As Mace, Obi-Wan and Yoda discuss the dangers of Anakin being paired with the Chancellor in order to spy on him, Yoda bows his head, and smooths back his wisened brow. This simple gesture, an otherwise innocuous detail, demonstrates to me the great care the animators and renderers took in remaining faithful to, while still delving deeper into, Yoda's character. Yoda is clearly showing signs of stress, and fatigue, and worry. The moment is telling - if even Yoda is suffering from the shroud of the Dark Side, befuddled in Palpatine's quagmire like the rest of the Jedi, then they are truly losing the war against Evil. Brief as the moment may have been, it was enough to make me, for the first time, actually feel sorry for Yoda. Which is odd, because Yoda, thoughout the saga, was always a source of spritual strength. Even in real lfie, for us Star Wars fans, we enjoy his brand of Chicken Soup for the Soul, with such meaningful advice as "Do or Do Not, there is no Try." But in that one moment, as he smooths back his thinning patch of grey wisp atop his aged little head, Yoda seems small, and nearly as tragically powerless as the rest of them. Resolute, but powerless.

That is great acting, if you think about it, for a mass of pixelated puppetry. Yoda goes on to shine in Episode III, to become nearly everything I wanted to see from the legendary "Great Warrior" that Luke speaks of in Empire (though I would have had his battle with Palpatine go longer, but I'll take what I can get). The climactic battle against the Dark Lord completely trounces his encounter with Dooku, and though he didn't win, as surely as we knew he wouldn't, he did manage to get me to think he might just take Palpy out, and re-write Star Wars history. But, as we know, Yoda made his fateful journey to Dagobah to hide until we would see him again, decidedly different, less mobile and less animated. But then again, wouldn't you be, too? When 900 years old we reach, and defeated in our long life's work we seem to have been, look as good, we would not.

My only complaint about the devopment of this amazing character-slash-artform (and yes, Yoda is to me an artform as surely as those fine and timeless works hanging in any museum) is that we did not see that one, poignant scene, as he takes up his sad, final journey into exile. To me, that was one of those much needed bridges that I had to see, not to know it happened, but perhaps to feel what he felt. But perhaps we can hope, again, for a deleted scene resurrected on the DVD.

Yoda endures as an amazing character even outside of Star Wars. He is that wisened soul, that ageless philosopher, that hero of righteousness, and that triumph of heart and soul over might that this planet needs so much. I like so many things about Yoda. I like the fact that he can't seem to master (or refuses to) Basic sentence structure. I like the fact that we still don't know where he's actually from. I like his gentleness as a teacher, his fierceness as a warrior, his paternal care as a master. The world doesn't make them like Yoda any more. What's even more meaningful in terms of the artistry behind Yoda's creation, I think its hard to imagine that the world never actually did make a Yoda. But George Lucas, and his amazing partnership with the talents of Frank Oz, the many puppeteers, and most recently, the often unheralded talents of true artists that brought him to life with such mastery and care, surely did bring him to us. Yoda first transcended puppetry, then pixels, to become a true masterpiece for Star Wars fans, and the world, to enjoy and learn from for years to come.


Christopher Lee as Dooku - Darth Ambiguous:
Short-lived though he may have been, Christopher Lee's Count Dooku was undoubtedly one of the most complex, and perhaps to-date, one of the most unresolved and unexplained characters. In keeping with the theme of duality present in all of the major players from Jango to Luke, Dooku seemed to be dark, but it remains a mystery how he arrived at his decisions.

Christopher Lee sparked bountiful debate because of the ambiguous way he played his scene with Obi-Wan in Episode II. As Obi-Wan hangs suspended in a restriction field, the famous exchange has Dooku pleading with Obi-Wan, with seeming sincerity, to join him in his fight to defeat the Sith. He spills the beans on Darth Sidious and the Neimodians - actually gives Obi-Wan what appears to be usable and credible information. Obi-Wan, true to his nature, does not falter. And so the result of this well-played scene is that we believe Mr. Lee to be portraying cunning duplicity. It remains unclear to me, and I daresay that's exactly how Geroge and Lee envisioned it. We aren't supposed to know immediately, or perhaps ever, the extent of the evil that resides in Dooku's heart.

One thing is clear - Dooku is no Sidious. He is in many ways an honorable gentleman aside from his quest for power. Whereas Sidious has two distinct sides, a disguise, and a reality, Dooku's character remains merged in darkness. His character crystallizes a little further in his duel with Anakin in Revenge as he goads the Jedi's ire: "I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate! You have anger! But you don't use them!" The silky yet gravelly malevolence of Lee's voice is absolutely designed for this moment. This is Dooku, at the height of his Sith arc, and ironically in his final moments as Anakin promptly edges a little further into his Vader persona by mercilessly depriving Dooku of his hands, and then his head.

Another thing is clear. Dooku has great pride, perhaps enough to rival Anakin. His confidence in his powers and swordsmanship make him formidable. But I wonder, ever since his conversation with the captive Obi-Wan, and then later in the aftermath of the duel in the hangar as he stands over the vanquished master and padawan, is his pride his price for taking the path he's on? The look that crosses Lee's face is not that of the proud victor. It's the face of ...dare I say...regret. Or pity. It's a bastion of his Jedi sensibilities that plays across his face, and in that splinter of time, I think I started to understand Dooku's plight. He actually felt he was saving the Republic by transforming it, by breaking it down. He actually believed this rhetoric, perhaps prodded by Sidious while oblivious to the Dark Lord's true intentions. Dooku looks upon his prey, as he is about to strike them down, and I swear, he regrets the cost of life, and perhaps even the cost of some of his own ideals. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but there are shades of dark sincerity in Dooku. Though inexorably tumbling into the Dark Side as Tyrannus, I believe this is the visage of his former self - the person that Mace and Yoda found hard to believe would have gone to such drastic extremes out of his anguish over the decay of the Republic, the loss of Qui-Gon, and his disillusionment about the Jedi's true calling.

That moment now past, and his world now in ruin, his final moment is full of pathos. Lee played this role I believe to illicit many complex feelings about Dooku's motivations. He did an excellent job, veteran artisan that he is, of leaving me not so much confused about Dooku, but rather reveling in a deep character unfortunately unexplored in the time given. Give me a character, well-played and steeped in complexities for 5 minutes of film time over a boring, one-dimensional afterthought of dialogue any day. And that was Lee's triumph as Dooku - the irony that this great man had become, once so revered and so passionate, now broken and lost as he peered up at Anakin, and then over to Palpatine in sudden, dire revelation. His final look of astonishment was exactly his own words moments earlier. He had fear. He had anger. And he could not use them. Well done Christopher Lee - you made this character truly fascinating.


The Scenes that Defined Episode III...


Order 66:
There were a few scenes in the saga that put your heart in your throat. Yoda's lonely passing on Dagobah would be one. Shmi's quiet reassurance, and a plea to not look back, given to a young Anakin. Obi-Wan's sacrifice to his old friend on the Death Star. The last moments of Biggs and Red Leader. Obi-Wan's moment of horror as his master was struck down by Maul. Han Solo's "I know" as he was frozen alive. The death of Anakin's mother in his arms. Luke's impassioned attack on his father to save his only sister, set to the backdrop of an epic chorus movement, will forever be a defining moment. And Order 66 will likewise live on as the culmination of all the evil and despair a galaxy could endure.

This montage of scenes, albeit short, spanned time and worlds to show both the gravity of expanding change, and the simplicity of life cut short. This is truly how things change even in our world sometimes. This is the tragic passing of the torch, moving from one era to the next. These are scenes full of pathos, but there are no brave deaths here, only tragic endings. That such magnificent creatures the universe had ever known would meet their demise without so much as a valiant last stand is truly what is most troubling. John William's heart-wrenching score for these scenes is a testifies to the fact that this no mere crime, this is an epic tragedy, a moment of dark destiny.

This is how most every revolution history has seen, Russian, French, English, eventually plays out. Yes, we live in an age of discrete coups d'etats, in which power changes hands with as little publicity as possible. But somewhere, at some point, someone's hands are always bloodied. In Order 66, we find not only the sanguine hands of executioners, but the death of a dream in bloom, cut down by the promise of progress. Order 66 was as much about the Death of Innocence as it was about the Death of the Jedi. It was just as the opening scroll says: There are heroes on both sides.. but Evil is everywhere.

I say this because two mighty sets of heroes fell from grace that day - The Jedi, and the mighty Clone Troopers. Though the Jedi were shunted swiftly into history, the Clone Troopers lived on to become something else entirely, something not of their choice. The one-time defense of the Republic, these trusted allies were asked to do something seemingly against their very nature. They were made to be commanded by the Jedi. A clone could no more turn on its commander than turn on his brother. Unless...he was ordered to do something so heinous, so against code, but still valid as an order from a superior. Clones are not machines, they are feeling humans. Make no mistake, to undertake such an order, especially after bonding with their Jedi commanders in the heat of battle, surely scarred them as much as any blade or salvo.

The Clones changed that day into something less individual, less alive, less feeling, less caring. You could hear it in their inhuman voices, inside their anonymous helmets. I've noted before in this review the many curious changes in the Clone Troopers after Order 66. One of the most telling was this - you would never again see a trooper's face. In more than a quarter of a decade of Star Wars, this would be true. Clone Troopers, by this evil rite of passage in Order 66, became Stormtroopers.

The Jedi that met their end did so in an eternal state of poignant surprise. Aayla's disbelief, Plo Koon's desperation, Ki-Adi Mundy's look of sudden revelation - these are hard moments to watch. These were unwilling warriors who took up their burdens and marched with their troopers. Notice in nearly every case, their Jedi commander was positioned on point, in front of their squad. How horrible to go from a position of trust and leadership, to a position of vulnerability to treachery. Even Yoda, driven to his knees with the sudden realization that something had gone horribly wrong, had his back to his trusted commanders as he oversaw the battle.

This collection scenes last barely over a minute, and progresses into moments that are hard to accept. Order 66 was no military tactic. It was genocide, as sure as the floor of Jedi Council was littered with tiny bodies of innocents, whose only crime was being adept in the peaceful ways of the Force. It eliminated a singular life form, one not bound by similarities in form, but of nature and purpose - to protect a Republic of Life. As the order was carried out, so changed their way of life forever. Often in our own times we have witnessed this dark phenomenon - JFK, 9-11, Pearl Harbor - the world can change in the blink of a teary and disbelieving eye.

Order 66 was a defining moment in the saga as it took us that final step from light into utter darkness. All of our myths lay dead or dying, all of our heroes gone, we had nothing left but to wait for a New Hope.


Coming up...
The Triumph and Defeat of Mace Windu:

Yoda's Unrequited Revenge:

The Skies of Coruscant:

The Crowning of Vader:

The Temple Massacre:

The Death of a Queen:

The Duel of Fates:

A New Hope:

I think this movie is a profound addition to the saga. It lays the foundations of the mythos of Star Wars, and shows those oft-imagined moments that were the very fulcrum of our highly leveraged vision of this universe. What was once just lore, and vague dreams in our minds, is now fleshed out in deliciously tragic and moving detail.

The reason I haven't given a more comprehensive review to date is because this movie's impact on yours truly is something that has to be digested at a Sarlaacian pace. It's meaning is in multiple levels, and each one, as Irvin Kerschner once pointed out about what most impressed him about Lucas' films, is undeniably personal.

In closing, I just want to say to whomever might find this moosely missive that I am deeply appreciative of the work put into the story, characters, and craftmanship of this movie. It's troubling that it rejuvinated a mighty tale while ending it strangely in the middle. I feel compelled to finish it out, even if I already know the future. It is all at once oddly fullfilling and sadly final. But as the vernacular goes - Love Hurts.

:0)

DM out


Please feel free to come back to find more thoughts and a personal summation of the saga over the coming days...