Ewoks
It’s hard to be a Star Wars fan.
Star Wars is like any long-reaching cultural phenomenon of its ilk, mostly just like anything else that’s widely recognised, memetically important, ideologically contagious and loved by an enormous fanbase. It’s not – and I do not say this to make light – unlike a religion. It has shibboleths and practices, varying degrees of expression, rituals and totems, it has a sort of generalised spine of its own cultural values, and it has some fans who are into it who are just the woooorst.
At this point, I have watched nine of eleven Star War movies I’m aware of – I’m missing Rogue One and Rise of Skywalker. Of those nine movies, most are meaninglessly silly kid’s fare that we treat as more important than I feel they deserve, Solo is the worst kind of self-gladhanding we get too much of in fandom communitie, sabacc sucks so much, I actively liked The Last Jedi, and I loved about… half an hour of Return of the Jedi.
The half hour that’s all about Ewoks.
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