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You will never erase those beaded braids, or that speech about sand. Hell, the dude space-chokes motherfuckers who refuse to defend the faith. Maybe if it weren’t for the prequels - maybe if it weren’t for that moment floating over the lava, where Obi-Wan’s like, “Jedi are cool!” and Little Orphan Annie is like, “I personally disagree!” - he would be metal. Speaking of which: Darth fucking Vader, man. Worst thing that happens, there’s a flicker of lightsaber, and then, Oh no, the younglings! We never see a Stormtrooper get sucked out of a depressurized cabin, his eyes exploding and the blood jetting from the sockets freezing almost instantly. We never see Vader slice open someone’s stomach, so that Chewbacca has to frantically try and help that dude stuff his intestines back in place. Even the cold, unyielding vacuum of space seems doable in that world. When people die in Star Wars, it’s always with a blast or a swipe or an explosion. The Lucas Universe is based on a fairy tale understanding of battle where people fall or are slain but never truly engage in warfare.
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Laser fire that leaves a deadly black smudge. Hands chopped off, the stumps instantly cauterized. Make sure you follow the right path, or you might lose a hand. It’s a comfortable lie, and one that every harmful religion holds dear - that the world exists in black and white, without question. And that’s not life, where everything is nuanced. Even if you are not actively allied with one side or the other, you exist in a world beholden to that dichotomy. Go with the Light and you get feathery hair and high boots. According to Star Wars, there is energy flowing through all things, and that energy tends either towards the Light or Dark Side (like McSorley’s Tavern). Metal and Star Wars grew up together Hell, I’ll go so far as to say that metal would look and sound entirely different if not for Star Wars.īut the universe of Star Wars relies on one vastly un-metal principle: a defined moral compass. On top of that, I understand why concepts like laser swords and planet-sized star destroyers were revolutionary at a time when metal was in its infancy. Hell, that combination of sci-fi and fantasy is what a lot of metal imagery uses as its basis - a world where magic and chivalry are still alive, even if we’re surrounded by evil mutants and synthetic drugs. And it’s certainly not as metal as a lot of metalheads want it to be. There are bits and pieces of it that are metal, but overall it falls way short of being worthy of that description. And hey, as a combined piece of cinema, as a fictional universe, as a cultural landmark, Star Wars has a lot going on for it. Things climax when the virgin battles the Lightning Scrotum in the Spaceticle, and the flannel grampa gets paid.ĭoes this tired, sanctimonious bullshit sound familiar to you, reader? It should, because it’s the plot of Star Wars, which for some reason seems to be every metalhead’s favorite intellectual property. Meanwhile, Vesty gets put in a chocolate bar by the Rocketeer thanks to the conniving business moxie of the only other Black dude in the galaxy. Things progress from the plains of Ice Level to the forests of Jungle Level, where the virgin learns hopscotch from Space Kermit. Together, they liberate a universe of stupid musical amphibians from the clutches of Disco Frankenstein (secretly the virgin’s disfigured papa), a Black man who was once an emo white boy before he went batshit insane after having sex with one person. He enlists the help of the telekinetic Scientologist who mutilated his father, but because no one in the future-past can rent a car, the virgin, the priest, and the two wind-up toys walk into a bar, where they meet Vesty McFucksSoGood, the anti-virgin, and his psychotic teddy bear. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, some teenage virgin is contacted by a Roomba vacuum and a clockwork gay stereotype that his dad built, who ask him to save (and let’s be honest, probably fuck) a princess who’s actually his sister.