Yesterday, I saw a teaser trailer for the latest Star Wars movie. While it is live-action, it looks like this story will be a spinoff from the established series, taking place between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope and featuring yet another hardcore young woman as its butt-kicking protagonist. While I am not going to judge a movie I haven’t seen yet, I will admit that my first reaction to seeing this teaser was to roll my eyes. Here we go with the endless Disney spinoffs. How long until we start getting the direct-to-video sequels?
Of course, the Star Wars franchise isn’t new to this kind of exploitation. After the original trilogy, there were the two live-action Ewok spinoffs as well as the two short-lived cartoon shows featuring even more Ewoks as well as the famous droid duo. There was even a full-length Star Wars Holiday Special that came out only one year after the first Star Wars movie in 1978! And I won’t even try to list all of the books, video games, comics, toys, and merchandise that have appeared since the first time audiences saw that iconic title scroll.
The Star Wars phenomenon is so prevalent in our society that many people seem to reside in one of two camps. The first group contains the diehard fans, who will buy and consume any product with the Star Wars brand on it, while the second group are those that have made an active choice not to participate in this societal trend. That’s how pervasive Star Wars has become. It’s almost impossible to be unaware of it, and it often feels like a choice must be made. Indulge or abstain. Contribute to one of the industry’s most successful cash cows, or risk the label of being a hipster who thinks that everything was better at some imagined point in history.
Still, no matter how many people may insist that you must either love or hate the franchise, there are plenty of casual fans out there who enjoy Star Wars but don’t give into the hype. There are also folks who simply aren’t interested because it doesn’t suit their tastes. And maybe there are a few people out there who, like me, have a very personal connection to the original trilogy that can never be destroyed.
I remember when I was ten years old and my family walked into the local Costco for one of those exciting, epic shopping trips that only seem to happen in a warehouse-sized store when you’re a child. At the time, big-screen TVs were all the rage, and I remember a forest of the massive cabinets set up right by the front entrance. Several of them were playing movies, but just one of them captivated me. For the first time, I saw Luke Skywalker flying down the trench of the Death Star, bigger than life, filling my senses and igniting my imagination.
“What is that?” I asked my parents breathlessly.
My mom turned to my dad.
“Do you think he’s ready?” she said.
My dad considered.
“He’s ten years old now. I think it’s about time.”
I started to shake with excitement. What was this incredible secret that my parents seemed to share? What initiation was I finally ready for? That night, after we got home, my dad pulled out a VHS tape with the most amazing artwork on the cover. We put my little sister to bed, and then the three of us sat down to watch a movie that would change my life.
For the next six months or so, I kept thinking about Star Wars, but my parents didn’t show me the second and third movies. I think they were trying to create the kind of anticipation that they felt when they had to wait to see each movie in theaters. We watched the first one several more times over the months that followed, and I spent hours scrutinizing the box art of all three VHS tapes. Eventually, we watched The Empire Strikes Back together, and I knew I couldn’t wait another six months for the last one.
At that time my dad was working two jobs, and my mom and I would often watch a movie together to wait for him to come home late at night. A couple of weeks after I’d seen the second film, my mom asked what I wanted to see, and of course I wanted to watch Empire again. She agreed, and I saw the movie for a second time. Finally, dad got home, and we all went to bed at around 11:00 pm. I laid awake, with the movie still playing in my head. I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. Finally, I got up and went to my parents’ bedroom. The lights were off and I thought they were both asleep, but in that special way that parents have, they knew that I was there.
“What is it, Lindsay?” asked my dad.
“Dad, could we watch the third movie?”
And then my dad, just after getting home from his second job and with work in the morning, got up out of bed without complaint, set me in his lap, and at 11:30 at night pushed play on our old VCR to watch Return of the Jedi together for the first time. It’s one of my most precious memories of my father, and I hope he knows how much that moment still means to me.
No amount of hype or exploitation can touch those treasured memories. I don’t care what happens to the story or characters or even the actors and George Lucas. They’re a part of my Star Wars experience, but they’re not the most important part. That honor goes to my parents and their sweet love for a little boy with eyes full of wonder for a galaxy far, far away.
Thanks Mom and Dad. I love you.