In 1977, the critic Pauline Kael, writing in [The New Yorker], said that the original “Star Wars” movie was as “exhausting” as “taking a pack of kids to the circus.” “Even if you’ve been entertained, you may feel cheated of some dimension—a sense of wonder, perhaps,” she wrote. “It’s an epic without a dream.” To fans who first saw “Star Wars” in that sweet spot between the ages of six and twelve, Kael’s dismissive grownup assessment sounds less like heresy than total lunacy. How could anyone watch “Star Wars” and feel anything less than wonder or surprise? Surely only a jaundiced adult could glance upon the cantina at Mos Eisley or the shiny halls of the Death Star and see them as anything less than life-altering and dream-making.
I've tried watching Star Wars many, many times. It just doesn't resonate with me. The dialogue is wobbly, the story just not interesting enough. I'll try again, but can we please stop pretending they're good movies? What you probably remember is the awe of seeing the movie, not anything about the movie itself:
When you’ve become enraptured with “Star Wars” at a young age, it is no longer possible, or even really the point, to figure out later on if they are especially good movies or not. They are an immovable memory, a feeling of awe and a kind of collective cultural childhood, and thinking about them is remembering that awe.