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The first episode is great, fun, excellent script, nice cameos, Marty Scorsese is the cherry pie, the whole thing works perfectly.

Then the reality of the show, shows up. Episode two is painful to watch, a childish Seth rogen, with a stupid script, trying so hard to be funny while looking so idiotic that you want to get in there and slap him in the face, what a let down, the first episode promised so much, I guess that's what happens now in Hollywood, you only need a first good idea and let everything flow (south in this case) from there.

Apple feels too desperate to have a good show, they are not getting any.

Five years ago, when I first watched Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker, I stepped into the theater brimming with the same hopes and excitement that the prequel trilogy (Episodes I to III) had stirred in me. Those earlier films had a distinctive energy-a blend of politics, grand-scale battles, and a sense of expansion that redefined the Star Wars universe for me. Naturally, I expected Episode IX to mirror that same dynamic pacing and thematic structure, especially in terms of large-scale conflict and epic showdowns. However, as the end credits rolled back then, I couldn't shake off a certain disappointment. It felt like something fundamental was missing, and I left the cinema wishing for more of that prequel-style intensity.

Recently, I decided to give The Rise of Skywalker another chance, this time with my expectations set aside. Stripping away the preconceived notions I had carried for years proved enlightening. Without the pressure of matching the tone of Episodes I to III, I began to notice the film's deeper emotional currents. J. J. Abrams infuses the story with themes of lineage, guilt, and redemption in a way that isn't as overtly adventurous as the prequels, but resonates on a personal level. There's a palpable weight in scenes dealing with legacy-particularly around Rey's journey of self-discovery-that underscores the emotional burden she carries.

This focus on individual struggle and familial ties stands in contrast to the grandiose spectacle I initially expected. It's more introspective, and because Star Wars fans often look for epic space battles, quirky creatures, and galaxy-spanning quests, this quieter emotional load can feel unfamiliar-or even underwhelming-to some. But in revisiting the film without the filter of my prequel preferences, I found a new appreciation for its nuanced, heartfelt approach. While it might not deliver the same thrilling tempo of the earlier films, it dares to lean into its characters' internal conflicts, creating a resonant, if understated, finale that reminds us Star Wars can still surprise us when we least expect it.

In an age where Only Fans it's the new normal, and more girls each day rely on their bodies and physical appearance to feel successful, movies like this only reinforce the idealization of this behaviors. The hype around this movie is not for its cinematography (which is less than mediocre) but can only be explained as a reinforcement of the toxic narrative of the Cinderella story with a twist of body selling and validation through physical over exposure.

The acting is basic, the editing is terrible, the script is weak. There is no merit from a cinematic perspective to nominate this movie to a best picture Oscar.