If it didn't work for George Lucas, it's not going to work for anyone.

Once upon a time, I loved Star Wars. I don't mean I was a fan, I mean I had a passion for the holy trilogy to such a degree that even as a Freshman in high school, I nearly creamed myself every time they came out with a new Luke Skywalker action figure. My compulsive browsing through the toy aisle at Wal-Mart after they released the Shadows Of The Empire line alone probably bought some Fruit Of The Loom executive a new yacht. So, naturally, when I heard they were releasing the first three episodes...well, I don't think I'd ever been that happy in my life.
All was good, all was right, I had achieved nerd nirvana. I was finally going to witness the transformation of a promising young Padawan into the universal menace that was Lord Vader. Then I saw Phantom Menace. Ever see the look on a kid's face when he goes downstairs on Christmas morning expecting gifts, and all he gets is an eyeful of his mom sucking off the mailman? My expression of disappointment was kind'a like that. For about a month.
It's a universal fact. When franchises are abandoned for over a decade, then the creators attempt to resurrect said fanchises, the result usually falls somewhere between God-Awful and Daddy Drinks Too Much And Beats Up Mommy While He Shoves Tampons Up My Asshole. That said, I'd like to pose a question to a man who was once a respected figure in my reality, Sylvester Stallone.
Just what the fuck do you think you're doing? Honestly, who the hell do you think you're fooling? Look, I understand the whole mid-life crisis thing, but why do you have to drag all of America down with you? You've got the money, go buy a kick-ass car, fuck an eighteen year-old cheerleader, I don't care, just stop trying to relive your past glory! Don't get me wrong, I loved First Blood. Hell, I didn't even really mind the Rocky series all that much, aside from your all-too-comfortable portrayal of the boxer as a mentally retarded hood rat whose love for concussions was only surpassed by his love for fugly chicks. Stop Or My Mom Will Shoot? Forgivable. Everybody makes a few bad ones, but this kick you're on now, making unnecessary sequels to movies that are best left as they are needs to stop.
You need help, Sly. Please, for the love of all that's holy, please get it before I see previews for Cobra 2: Still Compensating. Phoenix out.