I'm not saying I'm old, but I vividly remember watching Return of the Jedi in theaters as a wide-eyed kid, completely blown away by speeder bikes and Ewoks. From that moment on, Star Wars wasn't just a movie series to me—it was the series. I begged my parents for the original trilogy on VHS and pretty much wore them out from non-stop rewatches. My room was a shrine to the galaxy far, far away: toys, books, posters, even the John Williams soundtrack on vinyl. Star Wars was life.
Then the prequels arrived, and while I was excited at first, something didn't click. Maybe it was because I was older, or maybe it was the clunky dialogue ("I don't like sand"—really?), but they just didn't hit the same. Yet, rewatching them now, I can see the bigger picture: the prequels tell a solid story that's sometimes buried under poor execution. Anakin's arc is compelling, even if the execution left something to be desired. And compared to the sequel trilogy? Let's just say I'd rather talk about sand.
