Despite a $450 million box office take, The Phantom Menace met harsh reviews from critics and fans, none of whom were shy about sharing their disdain for the movie. The Academy Awards also snubbed Episode I, which is the only Star Wars film not to win the Oscar for special effects.

On various websites, fans have voiced their worries that The Phantom Menace has made Star Wars "uncool," of being nervous about wearing their Yoda and Darth Maul T-shirts to work or school.

How hip art thou?

In an interview this past spring with Roger Ebert -- one of the few critics to praise Episode I -- George Lucas remarked "It's very hip to put people down, and make fun of them . . . everything's just super hip."

Being hipper-than-thou seems to be the most popular game in today's media - but Lucas may have been attempting to turn that on its ear in The Phantom Menace.

The media poked much fun at Episode 1, often missing the more disturbing elements in it - such as the fact that the bad guy wins and no one knows it. Despite the subversive elements and the complex symbolism, though, Lucas played against type.

He did not bow to the Almighty Hip Factor that dictates much of popular culture, and perhaps much unconscious resentment was born from that.

The paradox is that one has to conform to an entire laundry list of preconceptions in order to be hip, even though conformity itself has never been hip. Cool is usually dependent on what it's rebelling against - as comedian George Carlin once said, "The status quo always sucks."

Join the Anti-Rebellion

What's Episode One rebelling against? The cult of coolness itself.

The ultra-cool weapon of the film - Darth Maul's double-bladed lightsaber - is underused, seen in its full glory only in the final minutes and quickly dealt with by the straitlaced Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Meanwhile, fans across the Internet have complained that young Anakin Skywalker should have been much cooler - perhaps more like John Connor of Terminator 2.

Connor cusses, wears faded jeans and steals money from an ATM. Anakin "knows nothing of greed," makes decidedly uncool proclamations like "yippee!" and sincerely loves his mom.

If that isn't daring and subversive in today's cinema of irony, what is?

It's hip to be square

In a paradox of paradoxes, The Phantom Menace is so square it's hip. If for no other reason than even the most rebellious notions and attitudes become tired, worn-out, and eventually exhausted, Episode I injects popular culture with a New Cool.

The true rebel wears his Jar Jar Binks T-shirt to school with pride. Cool becomes buying Captain Panaka action figures without worrying about who sees you in the store.

Cool is going to the beach with your C-3PO mug and R2-D2 beach towel and still hitting on girls. Cool is not bowing to what other people's notions of cool are, or becoming a passive slave to the critical preconceptions the media presents you with.

The Phantom Menace makes its own hip. It challenges our expectations, and is revolutionary in that it overthrows our non-values.

Darth Maul in da house

It seems incredible that some believe Lucas - who is legendary for being tuned into pop culture -- was not acutely aware of this.

It would have been painfully easy for Lucas to sell out. He has wealth and influence, and all of Hollywood would have been more than happy to accommodate him.

He could have cast Britney Spears as Queen Amidala and hired Will Smith to portray Anakin. He could have ditched John Williams' epic "Duel of the Fates" symphonic chant, and perhaps tagged a rap video that would sell ten million singles onto the closing credits.

But no, not our George, the quintessential rebel perpetually dressed in jeans and flannel shirts. He'd rather craft a cautionary tale of power abused and the perils of greedy consumerism.

Shooting down bullet time

Not everyone sees this, however. The other science fiction hit of 1999 was The Matrix, and to many it's the movie Episode One should have been.

The Matrix speaks volumes about nineties culture. It's UberCool, pushing the boundaries of Hip into a new digital age of HyperHip.

With its timely techno-paranoia and Rage Against the Machine overtones (both thematic and musical), The Matrix is the movie you want people to overhear you talking about at the water cooler. Its protagonists walk between cyberworlds wearing trendy outfits and Rayban sunglasses, and you can't help but say to yourself, "Man, that's hip."

Of course, a few months later you realize that those leather-clad heroes look disturbingly like those brainwashed, indistinguishable teens in recent Gap commercials.

Contrast this with Jar Jar Binks.

Ah yes, you remember Jar Jar, don't you? The computer-generated avatar of the anti-hip, the incarnation of the so-not-cool, Jar Jar has inspired accusations regarding Lucas' sanity, charges of racism and plenty of "Die Jar Jar Binks" websites.

If Lucas had put Jar Jar in sunglasses and a leather trench coat, handed him an Uzi and filmed a scene of him machine gunning down Neimoidians aboard their flagship -- preferably doing a few slo-mo flips along the way -- everyone would be talking about how cool he is and lobbying for him to star in Episode II.

Instead, we get a goofball, duckbilled alien with a penchant for stepping in "bantha poodoo."

Don't kid yourselves -- Lucas knew full well the reaction Jar Jar would get from many of the older fans. He probably planned for it.

Mesa kicking butt and taking names!

Lucas could have played to the crowd. He could have written Jar Jar as a great Gungan warrior, and enlisted John Gaeta of Matrix FX fame to make Jar Jar dodge blasters with the state-of-the-art technique of "laser time."

Instead, we get a bumbling creature who does his best in battle even as he trips and falls around. That his clumsiness works to his advantage is a subtle reminder that everyone has their place - that while we may not be a courageous Jedi knight or dangerous Sith lord, we still have value.

Judging by the many Jar Jar T-shirts being worn at the mall, the younger kids got the message. The average five-year-old fan loves Jar Jar Binks as much as we all once loved Chewbacca - who's just a big teddy bear, really -- back in the Golden Age when we were cheerfully oblivious to the Hip Factor.

The Phantom Menace might not inspire audiences to drool like Pavlov's dogs while they watch it, but that's because it dares to question their presuppositions. How could something so fervently and consciously anti-cool not be hip?

"Phantom Heresies" will run on SPACE.com until May 11, the first anniversary of Episode One's gala premiere. The goal of the series is to refresh some fans and surprise others through pointing out the film's hidden complexities, culminating in a full appreciation of The Phantom Menace as ritual theatre.

Next: "Their Fire Has Vanished: Power, Elitism and the Fall of the Jedi".