Does Christopher Lee ever turn down a job? I mean, seriously,
animated Count Dooku? Animated Count Dooku in a robotic
merchandising machine that looks like a Thunderbirds video game
except less lifelike? You’re better than this, Lee. (But while we’re
chatting, will you come to my birthday party for $50? I’ll throw in
unlimited Doritos.)
Lee’s voice is the only good thing about Star Wars: The Clone
Wars (awesome title, guys), which nonetheless brought out the fans
in all their splendor. There were Stormtroopers. There were
lightsabers. There were Jedis, young and old. A few rows ahead of me
sat a green-skinned bald woman, whom I later identified—thanks,
internet—as a certain Dark Jedi named Asajj Ventress, the villain
of the film. Asajj Ventress snacked on a sinister bag of popcorn.
So there’s some sort of war going on. The good guys need help from
Jabba the Hutt to defeat the bad guys. But apparently somebody snatched
up Jabba the Hutt’s squeaking turd—I mean baby
son—Something-or-Other the Hutt! (Question for the nerds: Who and
what and where is Mrs. the Hutt? Because if I remember my Return of
the Jedi correctly, Jabba the Hutt’s Boner the Hutt was primarily
interested in space babes of the human variety. Can Mrs. the Hutt fit
into that brass bikini?)
“AAAAHH! EE WONKO KOKA OO CHOBEE!” says Jabba. “BABA LOOGAAH JEDI
GLEE GLAAH JABBABABA! CHODA GLAH GLAH BABABABABABABA LOOGAH!” And the
Jedis are all, “Sure, Jabba, we’ll get your stinky baby back!” Then
there’s lots of sarcastic swordplay banter (“I’m impressed.” “Now you
die.” “Shall we continue?” “My pleasure”), stuff blows up, we meet
Jabba’s Southern gay uncle, Meshach Taylor the Hutt, and everything
turns out just fine. “GAAH BLAGAH CHOGEE MABBA JEDI LODEEEEEGABA!
DOGEEBEE OH LOO TOHLOO GAGA,” Jabba points out. “GOBEE LABLAH OO GAGA
BLEEBLAH!” Gobee lablah oo gaga bleeblah to you too, Jabba. Gobee
lablah oo gaga bleeblah indeed.
