REVIEW: Rogue One


I like to imagine the now time-rich George Lucas returns to the original trilogy alone in his mansion’s editing studio now and then and does all sorts of wacky shit. Far zanier than chucking in some CGI spaceships, fucking up the Ewok song and, I dunno, giving the Sarlacc a bowler hat. I mean really drastic shit like, removing the opening crawl and, erm, perhaps even ditching the opening Star Wars sting entirely. Then he cracks open a 7Up, sits back and violently swears while imagining all the fanboy tears.

Spoilers, obviously.

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