My rule for "Ranma 1/2" is "do not be the only sober person watching it." This is the Weak Ranma Principle. The Strong Ranma Principle is, "do not watch it sober," and that is my advice to you here. (Please note that I have not been more than mildly tipsy in my life. Sometimes one wishes one had made an exception some hours ago.)
People. It is better not to pretend to explain something at all than to explain it stupidly. It's like everyone had turned into a Vulcan: "I must do this convenient thing. It would be logical." Um, why? No! There is no why! I have whacked you with the stick labeled "logic," and you must concede defeat! Often this stick has a "therefore" on the front of it. "I like cheese. Therefore, we must go see Chewbacca." "Does he have good cheese?" "Um...what?" And asserting that people are good does not make them good, and setting them up in opposition to bad people still does not make them good. You know how the song goes: "nobody's right if everybody's wrong."
Also: why do Sith Lords have apprentices at all? You'd think after about the third one, somebody would have started thinking, "You know...I killed my master...and he killed his master...and kids are a lot of trouble...maybe I should just get a cat."
Also: this is what objectification of women means. Not that some guy can't manage to keep his gaze above my collarbones when he's talking to me. That the only woman character in the whole movie had basically did nothing. That she was the hoard of gold to crouch on, rather than a person with wants, needs, and dare I suggest activities of her own. Even when Leia was put into a metal bikini, she strangled her oppressor with her own chains.
copperwise wrote awhile back about being a golden-haired little girl, about identifying with the golden-haired princess in the fairy tales. I was a golden-haired little girl, too. (This is the source of markgritter's theory that I am an alien, but that's a big digression.) There are pictures of me when I was in the 18-24 month old range, where I'm scrunching my lips up, like a kiss but with great scrunching intensity. My mom said, "We never got why you did that. We'd tell you to smile, and that's what you did." I laughed, because I knew exactly what I was thinking: rosebud lips. Golden-haired little princess had rosebud lips, and I had seen rosebuds compared to roses, and they were scrunchy, all bunched up together. So that's what I did.
I can figure out exactly what changed that, when it went away: I saw "Empire Strikes Back." I don't remember "Empire" -- "Return of the Jedi" is the first movie I remember seeing, period -- but it came out when I was 2, and the golden-haired little princess with the rosebud lips was replaced by a tart-tongued, stubborn princess with a blaster. When my hair turned brown a few years later, it was something of an afterthought. If George Lucas hadn't done that for me, done that to me, and more, I wouldn't have been so bitterly disappointed in these latest movies. But he gave me Leia the politician, Leia shooting her way out of things, Leia getting the last laugh on Han, and then this: nameless girl Jedi shot in the back, and Mopey McPreggerson, Senator of Weepsalot.
Bleh, bleh, bleh. Disappointed? Not any more, no; had stopped expecting much of anything. But my eyes are a little tired from all the rolling.