“Every once in a while I have what I think of as an out-of-the-body experience at a movie. When I use the phrase, I simply mean that my imagination has forgotten it is actually present in a movie theater and thinks it’s up there on the screen,” Roger Ebert once wrote. “The movie’s happening, and it’s happening to me.”
This was in Ebert’s review of Srar Wars, the first one, the jagged little masterpiece of ’70s sci-fi. Kind of a beautiful thought, this—art begot of art. He gave it four stars, before they renamed it Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope because, in part, DVD box sets were once a very profitable business.
Andrew O’Hehir just didn’t feel any of that big, sweeping, other-worldly love Tuesday night at the new Star Wars: The Force Awakens, even if he wanted to. He felt like he had seen it all before. He kept getting pulled out of it.
The movie wasn’t happening to him. It was happening at him, in big, predictable, even enjoyable strokes. Like a seventh chorus after a seventh verse, his brain knew knew what to hum.
In fact, he basically liked the movie, but he had a question: What did this movie actually accomplish?