You could never tell, through those unreadable insectoid black flight helmets, but every TIE pilot’s triumphant final thoughts are this: thank god I will never do a panto. By the late 1970s they’re wandering Elstree Studios in a sharp grey uniform and by 1980 they’re screaming into the firing line of a rebel turbolaser battery in a ship designed only to kill or to die. I like to imagine the pilot wandering out of a regional repertory theatre company some time in the early 1960s before spending a couple of years slumming around the Mediterranean playing Roman officers in technicolour epics. That’s what I like so much about Interceptors, I think. They are also, given their Imperial provenance, completely a British character actor. An Interceptor pilot is both completely powerful and completely exposed. Like its sibling, it’s entirely without shields or life support. It’s front-heavy, like a drag racer, and its hard angles make it look like a TIE Fighter that has narrowed its eyes. It’s a jagged little wedge with wings like unsheathed claws. Chris: The TIE Interceptor is everything sexy about the Galactic Empire.
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