Your lack of faith in these prequels is, broadly speaking, not disturbing.

Rating: 6/10 (6 September 2019)

If the final film of the original trilogy went out with somewhat of a bang, then this final film of the three prequels fizzles out with a bit of a whimper; the masking of the Vader character proving, it would seem, to be somewhat less enthralling than the unmasking. This is not to say that "Revenge of the Sith" is totally irredeemable, but its final act, the grand finale to the first half of the life-arc of a character that has captured people's imaginations for decades, plods to its destination and falls over the line instead of bursting through the tape, arms aloft. Much of this lies, I think, in the direction, which isn't entirely sure how to execute what is, in essence, a downer-ending to a summer blockbuster belonging to a franchise which has become synonymous with thrills; spills; excitement and, I suppose, HAPPY endings.
"Revenge of the Sith" consists of two strands: one is the development and culmination of a conflict initiated in the last film over power and trade between a rebel force of solar systems, operating out of rocky desert planets and consisting of coalitions of odd looking creatures, and a Jedi council based in a shiny metropolis that is a picture of modernity.
The second is, at least is supposed to be, the depiction of a bleak; un-nerving descent of one man into the 'dark' side of his world's core philosophy - 'the force'. This character is Anakin Skywalker, played by Hayden Christensen, whose great transition into this monster, we are told, essentially precipitates on three things: sulking over being hired to the Jedi council, but not made a master; sulking over not being permitted a mission he really wanted and, crucially, a mere nightmare of his soul-mate dying.
The film begins with a sequence, which is too long and too akin to what the Bond films do pre-credits, depicting Anakin and his mentor, Obi-wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor), in the middle of an inter-galactic battle with those the Jedi are fighting on account of the enemy having kidnapped a highly important chancellor. This rather chaotic sequence starts in outer-space with a dog-fight; sees the heroes infiltrate the landing area of a huge cruiser and the corridors of the ship itself; sees them confront the villains and attempt an extraction.
The opening becomes jarring for the fact it begins to feel plastic, as if Lucas is ticking off a list of things he thinks fans want to see: swordplay; dogfights; R2D2 fooling about; comedy in near-death situations and Jedis on a mission. It is during this sequence we meet General Grievous, who is some kind of skeletal creature that hides behind, it must be said, fairly thin body armour and possesses a chesty cough. But he also has a small collection of light sabres, inferring, perhaps, that he has conquered Jedi in fights in the past.
Eventually, everybody congregates back at Jedi headquarters and the film, as Episode 2 did, splits off into its separate strands involving Kenobi going solo to find Grievous in order to halt the war, and Skywalker remaining behind to be with his partner Padme (Portman). Cleverly, Lucas shoots Skywalker and Padme in the shadows of a great hall, dressed in black, when we first see them, highlighting how secretive or shadowy they must live given Padme is pregnant and this must be kept secret. You might also say, given Kenobi is in brighter, whiter clothing, the difference foreshadows the light/dark dynamic which will characterise Anakin's arc.
From here, the film, though certainly threatening to fall apart, bumps along with a series of, often unintelligible, decisions taken by characters; bland second unit spectacle and scenes of genuine philosophical choice which, while interesting on paper, do not really get beyond the level of three out of five. Kenobi, just as he begins to sense doubt about Skywalker; Padme and the whole set-up, maddeningly agrees of depart the situation when he is, arguably, desperately needed at home.
Meanwhile, besotted by Padme and terrified of losing her as per his vision, Yoda offers Anakin the Jedi outlook of not worrying about loss and refuting attachments to items and people. More tempting, however, is the Chancellor's (Ian McDiarmid) approach: keep those you really love alive forever with powers one can only acquire away from Jedi teaching and with the Dark. He has this chat with Skywalker during a strange operatic light-show, which depicts rays of light thrashing around from one body to another thus highlighting Anakin's increasingly scrambled outlook.
Is the film's message here that love, ultimately, is a bad thing? Indeed, Padme even asks Skywalker whether love has "blinded" him. "Seems it has..." comes the reply. I could not believe there was no healthy medium between 'sever all feelings for someone' and 'become an incarnation of evil in order to save those whom you feel for the most'. Skywalker's descent into one thing over the other is not altogether convincing, and on occasion is flatly absurd for the aforementioned reasons: sulking over not being referred to as a 'master'? Really? Other things begin to unravel: does Christensen have the punch to really carry the material/performance? How did he think Padme, above all else, would react to his transition, or even murdering Jedi trainees?
To some extent, Episode 3 is a departure from, not only the series, but Hollywood blockbusters generally: it isn't very often you see a mainstream film culminate with sadness; death; massacre and, ultimately, the beginning of a war, and I'm afraid it just doesn't quite come off. Neither does the meat of the project, a descent into a kind of madness, a tragedy, really have the snap it needs. It may not be as goofy as its cousins, but it leaves you feeling it could've been more.