Ladies and gentlemen, I have some tragic news. There’s a dark force out there that’s intent on making sure that you don’t enjoy “Star Wars II — Attack of the Clones.” They’re an evil bunch, huddled in front of their keyboards, typing injurious words and sending them to millions of unsuspecting readers. I call this dastardly race, movie critics. I belong, in some fashion, to this federation, but after their pessimistic decrees (one even went so far as to say that Lucas’s films were essentially a golden calf for millions to slobberingly adore), I want to be called something other than critic (which is short for the annoying verb, ‘criticize’).

For some reason, they want to destroy the monarch of Skywalker Ranch, aka George Lucas. I fell prey to their murky forces, actually giving in to their drivel that was more acidic than a rabid car battery. Doubts danced in my head as I sat down to Mr. Lucas’s fifth installment of perhaps the greatest series ever assembled.

I, like many other faithful Stars Wars scribes, had been vastly irritated by Jar Jar Binks and The Phantom Menace. Although the effects were entrancing, Jar Jar’s voice would break through those moments of FX tranquility. I surmised that Lucas had gotten the voice from someone who had drunk about 10 martinis and chased them with a handful of tacks. Jar Jar’s voice remained in my head for untold days.

Soured by this computerized alien, I began to doubt George. This misgiving festered for three years until Star Wars II (or five) landed in theaters last Thursday. I had read some of the critic’s reviews, and I made the same kind of sneer that they probably had as they vulture hunched over their computers. Bad acting was at the top of the list of complaints, followed by ones like, “there’s too many space cars in the background,” “Yoda should not be fighting, ” “it’s been reduced to those hackneyed science fiction movies of the 30’s and 40,” and “some of the scenes would be better reserved for Mario Bros.”

These thoughts continued to carom in my head as I bought my ticket amongst folks who obviously had not read any of the reviews. A few excited people had mistaken the Star Wars premiere for Halloween, dressing up in full galaxy gear (I could not identify any of the characters they were dressed up as). Inside the movie house, several lads had full-blown light sabers, which they pirouetted above their head, as they impatiently screamed, “Star Wars!” after each movie preview. I acted like my brethren critics during this pre-movie wait, giving the saber swingers an ESP message of “get a life.” However, after the movie ended, I felt like getting a saber for myself, and going on a “peace mission” to eliminate the soilers of Lucas’s name.

No, it’s not the best in the series (I think it would be damn near impossible to topple “The Empire Strikes Back”), but it sure restored my faith. Yes, the acting in parts is hideous, and some of the romantic dialogue made me shiver (I’ll spare any rehashing, I had to laugh to keep from crying). But, when I began to get a little irritated with the thespian turns, I began to recall my first Star Wars outing.

When I was seven, I went into the first “Star Wars” with wide-eyed wonder. A few weeks before, my dad had shown me the 1977 Time Magazine article that displayed these creatures and machines that weren’t even in my furthest figments. There were the Stormtroppers, Guido from the Cantina, and the ultimate getaway car in the Millennium Falcon. I went to the matinee (with babysitter in tow), not to see a Shakespeare rendition, but to see the images that had wonderfully graffiteed that Time article. I was not disappointed. Of course, when you’re seven, you usually don’t know good drama, but I can guarantee that the billion people who saw Star Wars weren’t there for the acting either.

We were there primarily for special effects that filled our brain with a cascade of pleasures. It then made it to our voice boxes, resulting in a very primal, “ooh” and “aah.” We were there also to see the epic struggle of good vs. evil. Not much has changed. The FX in the new installment furthers Lucas’s claim as a visual master (this is the first blockbuster filmed entirely in digital video).

The arena battle (which of course a couple of critics reduced it to being a copy of “Gladiator,” which it is not) will fray your sensory receptors if you’re not careful. Obi Wan’s (Ewan McGregor) battles with Janga Fett will arouse even the most hibernated of souls; Anakin’s (Hayden Christensen) penchant for darkness creates a tangled plot; and best of all, we finally get to see (after 22 years) Yoda throw out some battle moves that make Obi-Wan look like tranquilized sloth.

Set 10 years after the events of Episode I, “Attack of the Clones” opens with the former Queen of Naboo, and now current senator Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman), coming to the city of Coruscant to cast a crucial vote in the Federation. The galaxy has a huge conundrum — the possible secession of several thousand solar systems from the Federation under the direction of the enigmatic Count Dooku (handled quite maliciously by Christopher Lee). Padmé barely dodges an assassination attempt when her vehicle lands in Coruscant. Old Jedi chum Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice Anakin (Hayden Christensen) are assigned to bodyguard her from any looming danger.

Much like “Empire” the story splits, as Padmé and Anakin head to her home planet, and Obi-Wan journeys to seek out the origin of the upheavals. The goofy, love scenes transpire here between Padme and Anakin, and I would dash to the bathroom (full bladder or not) during the most painful moments. But I was spared from total sap, as Lucas took me on Obi-Wan’s journey to a distant water planet where a race of clones have been secretly developed for the Republic (I can’t divulge any more without spoiling the surprises).

When Obi-Wan encounters Janga Fett on this planet (along with his young son, Bobba Fett), the rest of the movie is like one volcano explosion after another. The heroes race to each planet as more subplots unfold, and we began to get a sense of Anakin’s darkness (yes, I did wring my hands in much the same delight as Montgomery Burns). And, of course (I’ll say it again) we get to see Yoda manifest into a midget version of Chuck Norris.

The characters are also much deeper than the “Phantom Menace”. Obi-Wan, who seemed very wooden in “Menace,” is full of life, and I pined for his Jedi-ness when he was off the screen. Christopher Lee is great as the new villain, and we even get to see the humorous verbal battles between C-3PO and R2D2 (which never stales after all these years). Strangely, the computer-animated characters seem to out act their human counterparts (save for Ewan McGregor and Lee). But that’s what I like about Lucas. There’s such a “human” quality to his technical creations that we begin to care for beings that were birthed from a drawing board.

I also have to remember that the Star Wars series is simply a manifestation of Lucas’s trips to the Saturday matinees. There is still a boyish charm to his movies. When the lights came up in the theater last Thursday, my heart bounced around my ribcage much like it did 25 years ago. A spout of applause seemed to erupt from every hand, disintegrating the aura of mediocrity that the critics supposedly predicted.

No, “Attack of Clones” won’t please everybody, and it will be assuredly absent from the Oscars. The die-hards will be pleased, and it might even lasso up a few new ones. Take “Attack of the Clones” for what it’s worth — a high piece of entertainment that fits snug in Lucas’s world of the ideal Saturday Matinee. Don’t worry, the critics will be absent. They’re already busy complaining about the sixth installment. Something about Jar Jar not having enough screen time...