As a Gen Xr I’m a confirmed Star Wars kid. My favourite guy in the world (okay, the galaxy) is Chewbacca (strong, mostly silent) and all I want for Christmas is a Millennium Falcon. So in theory this should be my cup of tea. Series-wise it fits into the narrative gap between Revenge of the Sith and Episode IV: A New Hope but it’s a standalone outing in a new Anthology. The omens were not good, starting with a terrible, unlikeable cast – Diego Luna, Forest Whitaker, the sibilant-averse spittle-spewers Mads Mikkelsen and Ben Mendelsohn, and the orthodontically-challenged Felicity Jones; plus a vaguely Asian rebel ensemble created by a PC/marketing combo of a diversity focus group and the Chinese market. The director Gareth (Godzilla) Edwards allegedly lost the plot early on and writer/director Tony Gilroy came in (cost: $5 milllion US) to do a massive reshoot. He rewrote Chris Weitz’ screenplay which was based on a story by John Knoll and Gary Whitta, from George Lucas’ characters. These were just observations and rumours. That’s the business of movies. Having seen it? It looks horrible. It starts with a scenario not unfamiliar from the original trilogy with a girl, Jyn Erso (Jones) joining the rebellion against Orson Krennic (Mendelsohn) who killed her mother and kidnapped her father, engineer Galen (Mikkelsen). He winds up working as head bod on the Death Star against his will and he knows how to take it down. Darth Vader makes a return. There is the frankly questionable and weird decision to bring back the great and very dead (22 years now and counting) Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin. It made me queasy. The film only gets into gear in the second hour when the rebels go after the Death Star plans against the Alliance and climaxes with what look like hyperreal WW2 antics on a beach archipelago not unlike the Palm resort in Dubai. It all ends up in a pretty mushroom cloud which makes the Death Star very much the nuclear offender and brings us up to 1945 in real world atomic analogies. It only became my kind of Star Wars at the very, very end when John Williams’ score made a most welcome return, along with a very familiar face which is where we all came in, in 1977 or thereabouts … There’s precisely one good line of dialogue in the entire 134 minutes and this is it: There’s a problem on the horizon. There is no horizon. Turns out it’s not my cup of tea at all, it’s quite ghastly and I don’t care if I never see it again in a galaxy far far away or even this one. I want Chewie. Boo! Hiss!