ByRussel Barnes, writer at
A lover of sci-fi who is dipping their toes in the water with writing and contributing. Currently reading the Sandman by Neil Gaiman and Wel

So, the cinematic event of December 17th 2015 (and every other date in any known [and unknown] calendar) finally arrived thanks to the inevitability of the male hairline's greatest foe (time) and an ancient omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient deity (Disney). I wasn't old enough at the time to appreciate the anticipation of The Phantom Menace, although it's clear that anticipation for Episode VII could be made a lot easier for almost nobody to understand by applying the well known mathematical formula of Episode VII anticipation:

Episode VII anticipation = Anticipation of Episode 1 ÷ Episode 2 × (anticipation for the final episode of Lost + my disappointment that I spent six years of my life trying to crack the mysteries of Lost, only for the writers to mash some of the better fan theories together and screw the world and his dog over).

Although I am not here to subject you to my deepest and darkest thoughts about Episode VII (although I did think the first act was ruddy fantastic), I do have 'beef' with one of cinemas most significantly insignificant characters of all time - Captain Phasma.

When it became known that Game of Thrones' Gwendoline Christie was playing a badass Pimp My Ride version of a Stormtrooper (no doubt Xzibit was part of the creative team here) I couldn't contain my excitement, and the Vanity Fair image of the chrome armour flirting with a black and red cape (a bloomin' cape on a shiny Stormtrooper!!!) pushed me to the edge; I just had to have her action figure. This 'edge' is clearly a metaphor for the following (just in case you can't communicate with me telepathically, or the subliminal messaging has failed):

  • rushing to my local Disney store on Force Friday;
  • buying a special edition Captain Phasma figure*;
  • seriously contemplating buying a voice changing mask of a Pimp My Ride'd Stormtrooper; and
  • making a wish at a mystical carnival booth to be 10 years old again (only to wake up the day after and finding that I was still 28 to my fleeting disappointment).

Now for the main event, and to represent how bitterly disappointed I was by the character (or rather the portrayal of character who we all know in our heart of hearts - as sure as we need oxygen to respirate - will kick the living shiznit out of The Gungan With A Patois Accent That Shall Not be Named) that I'll need to resort to some shakey London vernacular by saying that the character "didn't cut the mustard", was "all mouth and no trousers" and "about as useful as a chocolate teapot". Never has a character that looked so fracking cool proved to be so inept at actually being fracking cool since Palpatine's Royal Guards.

I'm sure that in Episode VIII we'll be treated to the second best trash compactor escape scene we will ever witness, when Phasma's chrome armour will frighten the trash compactor monster - a Dianoga, according to Wookieepedia - to death when it gazes upon its hideous reflection and realises just how much it has let itself go in the past 30 years.

Despite what opinions are held throughout the galaxy, I have no doubt that The Gungan With A Patois Accent That Shall Not be Named contributed more in its maiden outing than Captain Phasma although I'm sure** Disney will rectify that.

What do YOU autonomous, bipedal, sentient beings think of the Captain Phasma we saw on the screen?

* I still haven't unboxed that figure, due to the fear that I won't be able to sell it in 53 years time (hoping that I'll make it to 81 years old) for 4.2 billion Amazon credits (sure to be currency of the United Western States).

** I'm not sure at all.


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