I hit the theatre last night with my youngest son and we finally watched the most recent instalment of the Star Wars franchise. This will be much to the approval of family and friends who saw the movie weeks ago and have been dying to talk about it while I’m within earshot. There are many conversations to be had about the flick, I’m sure, as the one thing that all members of my family can come together on is our love of Star Wars. 

The best part of the movie, for me, was when the end credits began to roll; not because I disliked the movie but, rather, because I had roughly 750 mL of urine squeezed into my 500 mL bladder. And we aren’t talking about the last ten minutes of the movie either. I was on the brink of pissing my pants for nearly an hour. 

Once my urinary distress ended (my apologies to the folks I nearly steamrolled over in my mad dash to the men’s washroom) I was able to start mentally processing the movie itself. 

This sequel was pretty awesome. JJ Abrams cleansed my Star Wars palette with this movie; taking George Lucas’ last three movies out on a boat, tying them up in a burlap sack with a heavy stone and dropping them in the middle of a lake like a bunch of unwanted kittens. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate the three Lucas prequels but there wasn’t enough redeeming material in them to make me want to watch them any more than once. Combine Hayden Christensen’s portrayal of Anakin Skywalker with the existence of Jar Jar Binks… well, I rest my case. 

I will likely go back and see this movie again. Next time, however, I will reduce my fluid intake prior to going to the theatre so that I don’t have to do the seated pee-pee dance to keep my pants dry.