Bennett Media goes WRESTLING!

Back in the 1980s, the stereotype was that televised Wrestling was mostly embraced by Rednecks and Trailer Trash. That might've been unfair, but in my experience it was entirely true; a lotta the kids I knew who were considerably less fortunate than I really seemed to embrace it as part of their personality. Then in the 90s, the appeal seemed to grow and integrate more into the mainstream, and suddenly "Big Van Vader" is wrestling Ben Savage on Boy Meets World, and I start to see more t-shirts around school that I don't understand. 

Obviously this isn't a history lesson; everything I've mentioned is just observation mixed with speculation, because it's not like I was just "unaware" of Wrestling... I was actively disinterested - which is just a polite way of saying I didn't like it. I still don't. But I'm preserving politeness because I didn't come here to shit on a most beloved part of Pop Culture. In fact, I'm here to celebrate it (in my own way)! As mentioned, Wrestling and Wrestlers aren't always confined to the ring -- in many cases, they were integral to stuff I liked too. I'd always maintained that I didn't know much about it, but when I started to compile a physical list, I came up with over a dozen examples of Wrestling-related things that I've experienced throughout my life that managed to win me over (or at least hold my interest for the duration). Granted they never tempted me to dive any deeper into the wide world of rasslin' but I'm grateful for these 15 contributions.

- Paul

Suburban Commando

featuring Hulk Hogan

My VHS version of Gremlins 2 did not feature the cameo from The Hulkster (nor did it even contain the alternate Home Video scene with John Wayne either). Nevertheless, Hulk Hogan was everywhere for years before this Science Fiction Action Family film came out in 1991 (or, more specifically, 1992 which is when I probably saw it on tape), but this was my first experience spending any real amount of time with him. Yes, it probably would've been unbearably weak without the presence of Christopher Lloyd, but the chemistry between both of them is undeniable. (Fun Fact: it was written for Schwarzenegger and DeVito, who did Twins instead -- a movie I like considerably less than this one.)

Slim Jim Commercials

featuring Randy "Macho Man" Savage

Macho Man is a good example of my inarticulate approach to wrestlers at that time, which is just a general feeling of "What's this guy's problem?" But Slim Jim knew how to harness and present that hernia-inducing energy and managed to create TV ads that felt like Action Movies. Matched with the fact that I'm a big fan of the product, Mach Man was always alright with me. 

WWF Wrestling Buddies

from Tonka!

Speaking of memorable TV ads! There was nary a commercial break in the early 1990s that didn't include this sales pitch for pillows designed to look like muscular naked men. Thinking of them now makes me aware of another reason for my disinterest in the genre: I really didn't have that little boy urge to beat the shit out of someone. Maybe I was born without that gene, or maybe I just ignored it. Or maybe it was upbringing; I didn't have the kinda dad that would playfully put me in a headlock as a sign of affection. At any rate, these commercials always depicted everything in a very wholesome light, making them feel very non-intrusive during any given episode of DuckTales. 

"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"

featuring "Captain" Lou Albano

Before his title role in The Super Mario Bros. Super Show and long before his cameo in Stay Tuned, I knew him as Cyndi Lauper's disapproving dad. He'd also pop up in her "Time After Time" video, and also the video for the Goonies song (which actually featured like ten other wrestlers). The Cyndi Lauper/Wrestling connection would baffle me for most of my life, until I read a SPIN Magazine article detailing her manager's love of Wrestling, and the casting of Lou Albano to try to boost Cyndi's fan base. (It worked.) Even still, when the Mario show premiered, my mom recognized him as a wrestler first because, to perpetuate the stereotype, she actually spent some time living in a trailer park in Florida. 

Stripes

Mud Wrestling

I'm including this because a.) this may very well be my real introduction to Wrestling, and b.) I can't seem to compose any list without including Stripes. (In fact, I'm gonna make a tag for it right now.) The concept of physical altercation as sport wasn't totally lost on me at 4 years old but there were definitely elements of this specific activity that were a little confusing - all I knew was that it was exciting when the girls lost their bikinis. Actually, in hindsight, I now realize that I understood everything about this scene as a child. 

Honeycomb Commercial

featuring Andre The Giant

Another supposedly fundamental experience I didn't grow up with was The Princess Bride -- which just means that my one true connection to Andre The Giant is his appearance in a 1989 Honeycomb Cereal commercial that aired hourly right into the 90s. The premise: four kids and a robot are enjoying Honeycomb in their treehouse when they get harassed by a giant who's hungry for cereal. Tensions are high at first, but everyone's shared adoration for the Post Breakfast Cereal prompts singing and camaraderie. Strangely, the Honeycomb was the least alluring detail for me: I thought the treehouse was rad, but more than that, the heavily wooded backyard with rich foliage bathed in late afternoon sunshine wasn't too dissimilar from my own backyard when I was a kid, but it was only that much more lusty when this spot would run in the dead of Winter. 

The Three Stooges

Grips, Grunts, and Groans

In this 1937 Columbia Short, the boys befriend a wrestler named Bustoff. Bustoff is a wreckless party animal who drinks himself into a stupor, prompting Curly to apply a fake beard and pose as him in the ring -- but the Mob has money riding on Bustoff, so Curly had better win (even with some predictably unconventional tactics). For the longest time, this was the only depiction of the lifestyle of a wrestler that I was aware of: the debaucherous midpoint between Babe Ruth and Al Capone. I had to admit, it seemed somewhat inviting. 

They Live

featuring "Rowdy" Roddy Piper

I'm sure I've told this story before but it's pertinent to this list... I was flipping through the channels during some weekend afternoon and I came across "The Fight Scene" on a local cable channel. The beginning of the scene. My mother was there too and neither of us knew what this movie was. After about 5 minutes we were convinced that nothing else was gonna happen in this film except this fight. Obviously the plot finally kicked back into gear and what unfolded blew our minds, but not as blown as halting the pace of an otherwise straightforward narrative so a Pro Wrestler can show off what happens when he runs outta bubblegum. 

Pain & Gain

featuring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson

I sat and I thought. And I thought and I thought. "Is it possible I've never seen a movie featuring The Rock? Have I yet to smell what he's cooking?" For a moment I honestly couldn't think of a single one. So I went to The Internet and scrolled the long list of feature films, and I actually found two(!) that I've seen in their entirety, both for partially ironic reasons: Doom (as part of our Video Game Take5 episode) and this, absorbed with a glimmer of hope that a self aware Michael Bay Action Comedy starring The Scorpion King might be more intentionally funny than unintentionally. (It really wasn't.) Honestly, I find the man likable, and despite having seen him in almost nothing, I don't think he's found his groove yet (though I can assume it's not Indie Oscar bait).

The Ren & Stimpy Show

"Mad Dog Höek"

Perhaps I would've been more into Wrestling had it leaned harder into these kindsa extremes (pus, gore, etc.). The irony is that Ren believes Wrestling to be fake and then gets graphically pummeled in various ways, which furthers my point that, if it's gonna be so obviously fake, it should be cartoonishly so; there should be way more poppings of eyeballs and blood vessels. 

Married... With Children

"Flight of the Bumblebee" featuring King Kong Bundy

Clearly it's about time I made a tag for Married... With Children as well. The name "Bundy" always seemed like a questionable choice for a sitcom family in the 80s, but the claim is that it was a direct homage to Pro Wrestler King Kong Bundy, who actually guested on the show twice: once as one of Peg's hick relatives, and then many seasons later as himself, in this episode where Kelly convinces him to beat up Bud in the ring. Definitely two of my least favorite episodes, but the Wrestling aspect is only partially incidental; when this show wanted to go intentionally lowbrow, it went hard, nearly past the point to where someone as shallow as me thought it was stupid, and that's definitely what happened here. Still, we honor this figurative and literal giant for lending his stage name to this iconic fictional family. 

Ed Wood

featuring George "The Animal" Steele (as Tor Johnson!)

This one's all kindsa meta: Pro Wrestler George "The Animal" Steele acting in a movie about director Ed Wood, portraying Pro Wrestler Tor Johnson who's cast by director Ed Wood to be in his movie. When this came out I wasn't really familiar with Plan 9 or Tor Johnson, but I immediately changed that right after I saw this, and I'm still as startled today as I was back then at how perfect this casting was. The resemblance is just uncanny! 

1 Night in China

featuring Joanie "Chyna" Laurer and Sean Waltman

Almost immediately after the "success" of Paris Hilton's leaked sex tape 1 Night in Paris, Chyna and Pro Wrestler fiancée Sean Waltman voluntarily sold their own homemade video to XXX studio Red Light District, cleverly adapting the punny title. Even during the dawn of the age of "pirating" and "downloading", I actually rented this video from the adult video store (because when it comes to smut I guess I'm just old-fashioned). Chyna apparently embraced the attention and continued making porn movies, but my curiosity halted after just 1 night. 

Blade Runner 2049

featuring Dave Bautista

I'd already seen him Guardians of the Galaxy and he (like the entirety of that movie) didn't really leave an impression on me -- at best I'm sure I just brushed him aside as some meathead hired for his exaggerated  physique. Obviously I was not so quick to dismiss his very brief but totally memorable moment in this movie that didn't require muscles at all; he gives a decidedly subtle turn as a soft spoken replicant who enjoys reading and farming. Putting him in the role could've come across as ironic, but no one approaches it that way and the scene remains memorable on its own merits. 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze

featuring Kevin Nash

Lastly, what's a Bennett Inventory compilation without some mention of Ninja Turtles -- more specifically, Super Shredder! For me, nothing tops his menacing presentation in Part One - but that fell in line with the tone of that film. This decidedly goofy sequel only sometimes got as loud and colorful as it was trying to be, but this moment, depicting a giant mutated Shredder (played by Pro Wrestler Kevin Nash), is the crescendo of this movie's intended madness. Again, if Wrestling had ever featured costumes this over-the-top, it may've just piqued my interest. 

TOYS ARE US : A L I E N S

Toys are life. They have been coming into all of our lives and making our grown ups broke since birth. I guarantee that all of you were bestowed your first one on the day you forced your way out of the vagina as a reward for not killing your Mama.  As we aged though, the collector in us emerged. Whatever was  your niche of the moment, be it Beetlejuice, He-Man, or Batman, you needed every single one. Sometimes you had to dig deep with manipulation to coax the big people into sealing the purchase. And occasionally as a last ditch effort, you would explode into a class 3 tantrum, embarrassing the fuck out of them, just so your greedy and desperate hands wouldn't leave empty.

  

   There were times, especially as you got older and more mature, that they tried to reason with you. 

"There's no money right now." "We just got you one last weekend." "Christmas is next month." At this stage of your childhood, a large emotional scene would not just embarrass them, it would humiliate you. This is where where we began to craft our bargaining strategies and turn into little lawyers. If you were good at it, you could outsmart them, and argue your way into getting your desired prize. We learned quickly that gentle fighting with tact and intelligence was way more fruitful that our previous attempts. But they can't all be winners. Sometimes, the idiots that raised us, that said they knew what was best, said some bullshit, backing us into a corner, and could not be bought. 

  In 1992, Kenner released a line of glorious Aliens action figures. I knew this because I saw them every single time we went to KB Toys, the Mecca of my very existence. They were beautiful. There were several new Xenomorph incarnations: A Gorilla Alien, Scorpion Alien, and Bull Alien. Most precious and desired of all was the Queen Alien. I fantasized about battling her against Ripley and shouting "Get away from her you bitch!" I also wanted to display them around my room like statues, so that when I watched the movie, they would be watching it with me.

It was time to ask. I never asked for something on the first or second visits. That was obviously greedy. It was much more polite and successful to ask on the third or fourth time. Given the severity of the how much I needed these toys, I went for broke. I collected the Queen Alien and Ripley figures, laid them down on the floor into front of my mom, got down on my knees, and began to beg. I pleaded with her stating that I wouldn't need anything else for the rest of my life, that these toys were made just for me from my favorite movies, and I simply couldn't leave the store without them. She took one look and said, "No, those are boys' toys." 

  We left the store without them, but I had a core memory, and a lot of questions. It wasn't until I was older that I realized what total bullshit that was. Her rejection of my toy purchase derived from her insecurity that I would turn gay, like steering my toy choices would have anything to do with my adult sexual preferences. I just wanted to play, man. Let the goddamn children play.

   Now I'm an adult, and thanks to the wonderful flea markets, eBay, and antique stores, a couple of these figures have been acquired. Part of me wishes I could ignore the collector in me and listen to my inner child, so I could rip them open, and pose them. I'm dying to see the collectible comic book that's included, but will forever be encased in its plastic tomb.

   Seeing these toys through my gownup eyes, I'm not sure why Kenner decided to design these to look nothing like the film characters, but it's weird. Take the Bishop android for example: this slick, muscular, machine gun toting, sunglasses sporting, clearly MAN, looks nothing his meek and mild mannered character that we all love. The Ripley incarnation is better, but she still looks kinda Asian and somewhat sissy despite her iconic heroic screen presence. 

   I'm so glad I have them, like a stupid childhood curse has been lifted, even if they make me gay. Of course anyone with half a brain knows that action figure play only serves to strengthen social emotional development, which I really could have used more of as a kid. Thanks guys. And while we're on the subject of child development, letting a boy play with dolls, teaches them to be a loving and nurturing parent. Nothing gay about that. 

- Babes

TOYS ARE US : The Turtle Blimp Disaster

Can you recall Christmases (or other gift giving occasions) when you received a present and a parent or guardian asked you to "hold up" your prize for the purposes of photography? I found it to be generally annoying from a very young age - which is why people eventually stoped asking me to do that dance on command. Now, of course, I regret not having pictures of me showing off every gift I ever got - not just for the purposes of a silly nostalgia website, but for my own cheap amusement. It would also help me to better frame my past and orient myself in a more structured and complete manner. Or something. 

Seen here is my father on Christmas morning in 1988, doing that exact thing and holding up a freshly unwrapped copy of The Voyage of the Beagle by Charles Darwin. But this also serves as the only physical evidence of my doomed Playmates Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Turtle Blimp.

**activate ZOOM and ENHANCE**

In my mind I always equate Ninja Turtles toys to the very early 90s, when the action figures got weirder and more far-reaching with characters like Fugitoid and Pizzaface - that's when I remember really immersing myself in Turtle collecting. In fact, at this point in history (December 25, 1988) the Playmates Ninja Turtle toyline was barely a few months old - heck I'm surprised I even knew who the Turtles were let alone had any of their merchandise. My guess is this blimp was probably accompanied by some other TMNT gifts, which most likely made this morning my official introduction to this prominent institution of the 1980s. And it's probably that freshness in the relationship that was the basis of my maturity and nonchalance in the face of tragedy later that Christmas Day.

I didn't really have too many "playsets" or "vehicles" in my toy collections - largely because I never actively played with the toys, so the accessories would often remain as bulky floor displays and showroom models that battled their action figure counterparts for shelf space. Obviously I was never gonna turn down a Batmobile or Ecto-1, but they spent their lives parked alongside their immobile owners. Though at 5 years old I can't imagine myself lusting after (or even asking for) a cumbersome vinyl balloon from a brand new cartoon that hadn't even fully captured my passion yet. Still though, the thought was nice, and I graciously accepted it as the kinda badass extravagant toy that it was. And I'm sure I wasn't openly appreciative then but my father went ahead and immediately inflated this giant conveyance with what I can assume was coffee breath and a pair of smoker's lungs. Cowabunga!

No, that's not me. I probably got to spend less than an hour with the blimp (as well as the rest of my bounty) before it was time to get dressed and go to some relative's house. If nothing else, this short tale is a parable expressing the dumbness of gifting a child a buncha cool shit on Christmas morning and then tearing them away from it all to go break in a pair of new socks at an aunt's house to watch a cousin greedily indulge in their own new prizes without offering any turns. I believe my parents finally came around on the realities of this injustice and started getting these social obligations outta the way on Christmas Goddamn Eve. But in 1988 I left my loot for however long on Christmas Day, and upon returning home I'd found my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Blimp had been slashed and deflated by our new dog, Teika. 

Teika was a pug who was given to us earlier that year by my sister's boyfriend (and eventual brother-in-law). Of indeterminate age and background, the dog was consistently docile and friendly, but always found inventive ways of letting us know that he didn't like being left alone - this was one of the first such instances where that became apparent. I don't have any specific memories of my initial reaction to what happened to my Turtle Blimp, but it didn't really leave any scars so I assume I took it rather well. I kept all the plastic components and accessories as a consolation (that orange atom bomb labeled "ITCHY POWDER" would resurface in my toy box for years), but really the true consolation turned out to be Teika; that dog was perhaps the crown jewel in my brief little Norman Rockwell upbringing and was my unconditional best friend throughout my toughest times.

I also got Milton Bradley's "Guess Who?" game that morning and I guarantee that brought me more joy and entertainment and memories in the following months/years than some bulky toy airship that would've collected more dust than mileage. But for TMNT collector's bragging rights: I didn't have the Technodrome, I didn't have the Turtle Van, I didn't have the Footcruiser, I didn't have Krang's big naked robot body, but the original '88 Turtle Blimp? Fuck yeah, I had that. 

- Paul

TOYS ARE US : Dick Tracy Clip-On Magnets

Magnets were such a huge deal to me as a kid - they were like stickers but better. Way better. I don't know if that's a generational thing but I'm not aware of them being as much of a novelty now as they were in the 1980s - because it wasn't just me and the consumers who were paying attention, but the manufacturers especially; it wasn't uncommon for your fridge decor to be a collection of intricate little works of art. 

It also was not uncommon (actually it was damn-near guaranteed) that the magnets that you or grandma or anybody had on their fridge were some sorta depiction of foods & beverages: generic fruits and vegetables, name brand candy & soda, various homemade meals, if it's something you kept in or near the refrigerator then you needed a brightly-colored magnetized sculpture indicating as much. And if you've spent any amount of time on this site you know how important artistic representations of foodstuffs are to me -- heck, fridge magnets may even be the cause of my infatuation. But believe me, I'm not overstating their relevance in the pantheon of pop culture - go look up "80s fridge magnets" on eBay to get an idea as to why sentimental suckers like me are always broke as fuck. 

There are so many old magnets burned into my mind, not just because they became part of the architecture of my childhood home, but because I loved and appreciated them long before any kinda nostalgia was attached. They were like toys, but they were my kinda toys - the kind that I could just admire with my eyes, without the expectations of some hollow interactive experience; I didn't need to play with them to enjoy their beauty. And then, along comes the Dick Tracy movie and suddenly everything becomes a toy - including magnets. 

Batman's merchandising the year before seemed subtle and demure by Dick Tracy's standards (and I've been over that with you, probably more than once), and amongst its catalog of colorful crap that I just had to buy were Dick Tracy Clip-On Magnets from Playmates.

More accurately they were bought for me, as evidenced here by what I'm assuming is my 8th birthday - which would've made the movie 8 months old at that point (but still fresh on Home Video). Either way, for better or worse, when a big movie came out, it didn't just change the culture, it created its own culture, and you could choose to immerse yourself in it or simply frequent it in a more casual way. Circa February of 1991 Dick Tracy had to share real estate in my head with Ninja Turtles, Edward Scissorhands, and Super Mario 3, but for as long as it resided there, one could still find the paraphernalia all around. It actually wasn't until it was on video that I learned to really love this movie as an entity separate from its marketing and products, so I was more than happy to add items to my already immense booty of Tracy treasure. 

Apparently there were seven from which to choose and I ended up with three - miraculously, it was the three I would've chosen had I gone to the store and personally chosen them (ongoing apologies to Seymour Cassel). While I've never sought out the remaining four, these ones I got for my birthday back in '91 stayed with me, traveled with me, gracing many fridge doors, taking on soda sprays and wily dairy products, and falling off and hitting various linoleums probably hundreds of times. They feel as fragile as peanut brittle but these are some truly tough gangsters - even the glue holding on the magnetic discs on the back has held strong. My amazement for their ongoing durability has outweighed my sentimental connection to them for years now - I'm just tryna see how much more they can take. At this point we're probably like E.T. and the geraniums - when they finally go, so will I.

- Paul

TOYS ARE US : Mega Gross Minis

I'll never not be ambivalent to brag about how cool a lotta the stuff was when I was growing up - movies, television, and, of course, toys. (This is not a millennial thing, this is a characteristic of every post-Depression generation.) And I'd say (and you'd say, and pretty much everyone does say) that there was a noticeable spike in gross out playthings in the 1990s and they were all a direct footprint left by Madballs, Garbage Pail Kids, Fangoria, Ghostbusting culture, and all the other putrid pioneers of the previous decade; slime sells, and the corporate realization of that fact was perfectly aligned with my youth. 

I was never a fan of the messy stuff - I was too lazy to participate in the "cleanup" portion. What I did find attractive during this trend were the blatantly morbid moods that they infused into mainstream make-believe; snot and bugs aside, there was a lotta death and decay as a general theme and everyone was cool with it (us kids especially). Not that we had a preoccupation with dying, but like Heavy Metal and Halloween these kindsa toys were my age group's tangible connection to the Horror genre. And so we ended up with a lotta skulls and corpses and body parts, and I know I personally didn't care about the context: it all just looked so cool to me. That's why, for me, the most attractive thing to come out of this craze was Topps Wacky Packages. 

Predating Garbage Pail Kids by nearly 20 years, Wacky Packs reared their ugly, smelly, slimy head again for a minute in the mid 80s and again in 1991 (as I fondly recalled in detail here) and they awoke in me a lustful appreciation for the beauty of commercial art - and green barf and brown stink clouds. And it's because of this adoration that I had an immediate attraction to Zuru's Mega Gross Minis.

Distributed in plastic spheres at $10 a shot, Mega Gross Minis contains "5 barf worthy surprises that will have you feeling green." Though within the one I purchased there were 3 "parody minis" accompanied by a tiny magnifying glass and a condiment packet full of green slime (presumably to drizzle directly onto your prizes), so I'm feeling like the tool and the topping come standard and we really only get the 3 toys.

Wacky Packs have done similar things -- releasing little three-dimensional rubber reproductions of their two-dimensional artwork -- and they're just delightful. These Gross Minis are sorta the real deal though: articulate but durable sculptures that seamlessly resemble the products they're parodying. My very subjective complaint is that the modern products (and their respective labels) are often as accurately boring as they are in real life - though a few accents of vomit make them much more alive and colorful.

I don't know that I'd keep up with these, mostly because I don't have the space or the stamina to amass even more tiny plastic pieces of shit. I do really want that "Snotverse" sneaker that seems to be the leader of the pack, and of course there are chase variants like glow-in-the-dark versions and "stinky scented" surprises that stimulate my collecting gland a bit, but a $10 addiction seems risky right now. Though Zuru has already announced a "Series 2" that seems to double down on the yuck, which gleefully leads me to believe that current generations are just as down with the sickness as I was and continue to be.

- Paul

THE PHANTOM MENACE - 25 Years Later

A long time ago, just a couple miles from my house, I attended the matinee showing of STAR WARS Episode I: The Phantom Menace on the afternoon of Wednesday May 19, 1999. For the first time ever I bought my ticket days in advance so that I could skip school to witness the earliest possible showing of the first new STAR WARS movie since I was 3 months old. I attended alone but the electricity of the crowd created a palpable camaraderie; we were all there for the same thing, we all loved STAR WARS, we all wanted to see that double lightsaber, and we all knew nothing could ever be sillier than the Ewoks. 

If you were alive and aware in '99 you remember what it was like. You didn't have to be into STAR WARS or even see this movie to feel the force of the ad campaign that dominated every corner of consumerism. Outside of the licensed toys there was fast food, clothing, toiletries, trading cards, costumes, personalized checks, and anything else onto which you could stamp a picture of Natalie Portman's kabuki face; every magazine had a cover story, every cable network had a special. Weird Al had a song. I was 16 and from my perspective everyone everywhere was excited and optimistic and happily got caught up in the hype. And then everyone saw it. 

I thought I maybe kinda liked it, that was my initial takeaway. I knew I felt let down somehow, but my anticipation for it clouded any articulate assessment. That + the movie itself was so dry and convoluted that it made it harder to point to specific things to criticize. I knew I was mostly on the same page as everybody else about Jar Jar and the pace and the performances and the political plot, but unlike every other STAR WARS fan who ever lived, I was prepared and capable to accept the movie as is - and what it is is a clunky Science Fiction flick that feels nothing like STAR WARS. I went back to see it two more times (which is something I just used to do with anything I found even remotely interesting) and during the third viewing I was overcome with a debilitating headache which even then I took as a sign that my body was rejecting my efforts to grasp onto any hope I had of actually enjoying this movie. 

And in the following years there were two more prequels and it became evident that Jar Jar Binks was the least of our problems as the sobering truth came into focus that this is just how these movies are: stilted and flavorless and overly calculated to the point that it wasn't much more than a graphic depiction of a spreadsheet consisting of plot points and political science. I revisit them for the moments that are good, which are usually superficial action sequences free of their designated context, but the space around them is ultimately "cringe." But now, so many years later, Phantom Menace still stands tall as a unique and bizarre experience, but also film. 

On May 4th (as in May the Fourth) of this year, I revisited Episode I - not just the movie, but the movie theater in which I first viewed it -- this time with a 5-year-old child who enjoys STAR WARS just as much as I, and is just as apathetic towards the Prequels as I. It's been quite the sociological survey since he got into these films a little over a year ago: without subjective influence, he loves the Original Trilogy, he likes the Sequel Trilogy, and he's mostly unenthused with the Prequels. I suppose despite George's insistence that these movies are made for indifferent children, quality prevails.

I've revisited many movies on The Big Screen that I initially or eventually came to know best on home video and always found that the theater experience demanded fresh attention. Such was not the case with the Menace - it was the same tedious slog it's always been, but I think I finally hooked into its peculiar rhythms and I actually took interest in what is basically the bulk of the movie: the Tatooine sequence. 

At a running time of over 45 minutes the entire "getting to know Anakin" portion of the film is the film, and it's coherent, it's logical, and most often it's quite engaging, and while there's no spike in skillfulness when it comes to the dialogue, it unfolds in a way that's almost as fun as a STAR WARS movie. Even the pod race (which is a fantastic achievement in cinematography, editing, effects, and sound) acts as an adequate finale to this otherwise cohesive "Part One", but instead the movie continues into the next drag of an act involving the Jedi Council and Senatorial debates. 

Man does it get tedious. It's always during this stretch that the weight of the incompetence of this movie really hits me. After the pod race was over my son became so bored he started asking me questions about the architecture of the theater we were in, and I was happy to participate. Granted we'd both seen the film many times, but the sound and vision of the theater environment still isn't strong enough to pull in my attention during the slower bits, and that's mostly due to the fact that the movie is empty of enough nuance or depth to make you wanna look any deeper. Having said that, the prequels are famous for "Easter eggs" and little peripheral animations for the fans, and watching it again on a bigger screen for the first time in a quarter century I took extra special notice of Jabba the Hutt's slave girls. 

Off to the left in the shadows is Diva Funquita and all the way to the right in the famous gold bikini is Diva Shaliqua. For me this is the biggest kinda fan service, as the trollops of Jabba's Palace in Return of the Jedi are one of the most vivd flagships of my own personal nostalgia (Leia included). The biggest strength of the Prequels is that they're populated with minor characters with no dialogue but full-fledged backstories and elaborate names. Characters like them had more of an existence in the Expanded Universe books and animated series and other spinoffs, but mostly it was to sell toys. You're not a real collector unless you have a Graxol Kelvyyn! 

George's backend came largely from the merchandise, and so more characters = more cash. Once he stepped away Disney didn't follow this model so the sequels were a bit more sparse in characters and weapons and vehicles and I believe they suffered a bit for that. But otherwise, the Disney trilogy has only magnified how cold and rigid and boring these Prequels are - to me at least. In recent years a lotta folks have "come around" on the Prequels, succumbing to the notion that not only are they "not that bad" but "actually pretty good." Poor deluded creatures. These are the kindsa people who give nostalgia a bad name - they're no better than the Boomers. Or, perhaps they actually did like these movies all along and were afraid to admit it. Or, maybe the quality of modern popular movies has dipped so far beneath The Phantom Menace that it now seems superior. 

At any rate, I sat in a mostly-empty theater on a Saturday afternoon in 2024 to rewatch the highest grossing picture of 1999, so apparently everyone cared even less than I. Needless to say the experience was very different than the first time I was there - especially in the moments before anyone there had actually seen the film and there was an audible shriek of excitement when the "long time ago" title card came up. And therein lies its own incredibly layered nostalgia: me, here, reminiscing about a 25 year old movie that sparked a collective reminiscence for a then-22 year old movie. But the biggest nostalgic thing for me is that sense of unity; everyone was openly let down with the Prequels in some respect, but we all took the ride together, and the fanboys remained on the fringes of the internet's infancy. Today we drown in STAR WARS fatigue, and social media is there to remind us of the toxicity of fandom. In hindsight, much of the recent STAR WARS "content" has been superior to George's tiresome origin trilogy in many ways, but his Prequels at least felt fresh, original, experimental. They were spaced out with legitimate anticipation. They were, and continue to be, unique - for better for worse. Hot drive-thru cuisine is sometimes better than reheated leftovers. 

- Paul