Well, I'm about seven hours from seeing Episode II: Attack of the Clones (worst...title...ever!) and something is bothering me. It's not the impending sense of dread that comes with preparing to endure Jar Jar Binks. And it's certainly not the letdown factor, as my hopes are much much lower after seeing The Phantom Menace. It's not even the possibility of having to suffer costumed fanatics (even though I secretly want to dress like Boba Fett). What is bothering me is the transparent zeal and giddy viciousness that is flooding the early reviews of the movie. I read the scathing criticisms and think "Jesus tap-dancing Christ, this has got to be the worse movie ever. Possibly even worse than Rocky IV." But there's something in the reviews that doesn't sit right. They all seem too well-prepared, as if these remarks were written before they even got to see the opening credits crawl. I get the feeling that these reviews were written months ago, then filtered endlessly until nothing is left but the most bile-filled prose imaginable. You'd think by reading the reviews that George Lucas himself was bending them over and boning them with a sandpaper condom. The hateful glee that saturates the pages is practically sliding off, blackening the fingers like the Devil's blood.

Now, I realize that they have a job to do. And I'm sure that the movie is not above being a steaming pile of shit. But where is the vindictiveness coming from? Are they pissed that people will go see this movie just because it's another Star Wars movie? Okay, fine, there's something wrong with blind allegiance to a brand. But you know, these are the same critics who never miss a new Hal Hartley film, for example, without giving it a second thought. (That's not a knock on Mr. Hartley, as he is one of my favorite directors.) It's the hypocrisy of it all: as if unquestioned devotion to a director simply because he's more of an indie "auteur" than a big "Hollywood director" is somehow noble. And you just know that these same critics, so hip and knowing are also trying to get on the guest list for the next Strokes show, because they saw them on M2 and think their sound is fresh. And besides, didn't Rolling Stone call them a hot new band? Fucking poseur critic assholes.

I'd like to close this little screed with something from the rant-meister himself: "The key thing to remember about all critics is that they remain dependent on the innovator, the person doing the real work of creating. And because they just sit on the sidelines of life, never the hunter, they are doomed to be forgotten."

So, to you critics out there who are trying to outshine your fellow critics in pissing on the latest Star Wars release because it's the in-thing to do, enjoy. But remember, you can count the number of critics whose body of work can genuinely called works of art on one hand and still have a thumb left to jam up your ass. Have fun on your way back to obscurity.