You know, some people don’t like ewoks. They see them as the first mis-step in George Lucas’s trip, slip and head-long plummet to the bottom, into a deep pit filled with CGI gungans and bad dialogue. Not me, I love those fuzzy little idiots.

Listen, there’s that line in Fellowship of the Ring where Galadriel says “Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.” Think of the ewoks as an answer to that sentiment. “Even the smallest and dumbest person can change the course of the future.”

We aren’t supposed to relate to the ewoks. We aren’t supposed to know what they’re saying or thinking. Aside from a few moments of fear, rage or sadness, we aren’t supposed to even know what they’re feeling. They’re just a primal force of nature, a furry carpet of destruction. And they are obviously having the time of their lives.

See, some fans struggle with the ewoks. They grapple with them. They want to enjoy Return of the Jedi but also to take it seriously, so they delve into the ancient history of these austere, dignified forest people to better reconcile Star Wars‘s deep mythos with what they’re seeing on screen (snub-nosed teddy bears).

I go the other way. I steer into the skid. They are obviously just dumb little critters, so why fight it? By this point in the series stormtroopers have been built up over two and a half movies as a serious threat, something frightening. There’s something about watching those scary soldiers being savaged by a pack of fuzzy adorable morons. It’s glorious, triumphant and surprisingly heartwarming. I could watch those little idiots all day. Jub jub jub.