Continued from…

A Religious Experience

I saw Star Wars six times when it came out–six times, on the big screen. That might not seem too impressive now, when kids with VCRs can watch Toy Story or Mortal Kombat a kazillion times, but in the 1970s, it meant something.

I wasn't the only one. I was 7 when it came out, and most boys I knew made repeated treks to the cineplex, dragging reluctant parents or older siblings. ("You've already seen it! Wouldn't you rather see the new Herbie movie?") The champ, at least among my circle, was my friend Wayne, who boasted 10 viewings. It was unverifiable, but we took him at his word. My own claim to fame was going to Star Wars for my birthday two years in a row–which says something both about the length of the movie's first run and the degree of my obsession.

In retrospect, I'm not sure what exactly drove the need for repeated exposures to a time "long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away." There have been plenty of movies I've liked–loved, even–since Star Wars, but not many I've felt compelled to sit through again and again. Even the ones I have watched multiple times–Casablanca, Blue Velvet, My Life as a Dog–have felt more like visits to old friends, without the raw excitement that accompanied each Star Wars pilgrimage.

All I can figure is that at that age, Star Wars fulfilled some role for me beyond entertainment or escapism. It was, I think, more like going to church. I can't say for sure, since the closest I actually got to church as a kid was my friend Wayne's mom, who used to hear the voice of God in her head (it was interesting how often God wanted Wayne and his brothers to settle down and clean up their rooms). But for a primary schooler just starting to make sense of the world, Star Wars offered a simple cosmology, complete with robots and laser rifles.

There's this essence of good–the "Force"–that everybody's part of whether they know it or not. There's ultimate evil, the "Dark Side," which is really scary but also kind of cool. And there are mere mortals, who know they should be good but are tempted by evil (7-year-olds with prescribed bedtimes don't need anyone to explain to them the seductiveness of absolute power).

As I grew up and learned more about my various friends' religions, I never found anything that made much more sense than that.

Of course, by the time the sequels came out, I was older and less open to receiving life wisdom from the big screen. They were fun, they had lots of explosions, and I didn't see either of them more than twice.

And now Star Wars is coming back. I'll go, just to see an old friend, but probably only once. Unless, of course, it's still here on my birthday…

–Jesse Fox Mayshark

Join the Cult

Star Wars isn't the first movie-going experience I remember, but it wasn't until my 5-year-old mind encountered that particular pop culture juggernaut that my mindset as a cinema buff was squarely cemented.

The sell was laughably easy. After a deluge of Star Wars commercials during my Saturday morning cartoons and much begging on my behalf, I was finally rewarded with a trip to the theater. Two hours after the lights went down, my world was irrevocably changed. I was now the member of–let's be honest–a cult. And I don't mean a figurative Rocky Horror type movie cult; I'm talking an honest-to-George, religious significance, sell-your-possessions-and-follow-me kind of cult. Except instead of selling my possessions, I bought Star Wars merchandise. Action figures, die-cast X-wing fighters, comic books, soundtrack records–Star Wars made me more than a cinema buff, it made me (or at least my parents) a brand-name consumer.

It's now almost 20 years since the initial release of the space opera to end all space operas, and as I look back over all that time, Star Wars must chiefly be remembered for two things. First of all, it is a cultural touchstone of the highest order, primarily for us X'ers. When Dante and Randal debate the morality of blowing up the incomplete Return of the Jedi Death Star in Clerks, when one of the tornado chasers in Twister yells "That's no moon, it's a space station," and when the camera pans along the bottom of a telephone repair platform in an X-Files episode in humorous homage to Star Wars' very first shot, we instinctively KNOW, communally, why these moments are funny.

Secondly, for good or bad, Star Wars must be remembered as one of the load-bearing beams of all that has come to pass in Hollywood since. Its raging blockbuster status at least partially paved the way for the big-budget "event" studio mentality that remains to this day. It should be noted, though, that unlike many of its big-budget spiritual successors, Star Wars actually is a good movie despite its many glitches, flaws, and incidents of corny dialogue. And while I'll be in line with every other ambulatory human being for both re-releases and prequels, I sometimes wonder if Lucas should have even bothered "fixing" the original Star Wars with new scenes and updated special effects. To more than one 5-year-old, it was perfect the first time around.

–Paul Lewis

Moved In So Many Ways

It was over a game of chess with my 7th grade science teacher–Mr. Carnegie (or, Mr. Crisco as we used to call him, in honor of his greasy hair)–that I first became aware of the Star Wars phenomenon. Yes, I was the kind of pre-adolescent geek who would spend my lunch break hanging around the lab with a man four times my age. But times were changing for me then. My eyes were opening to so much: Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, Cheech and Chong, clogs, feminine products, and–yes–sex.

It was sex I suppose that caused me to be a little more attentive to my male friends that year, that caused me to sit up and take notice when they began raving about some unheard-of science fiction movie full of no-name actors. Star Wars, it was called. I listened along with feigned interest, smiling and nodding as I plotted whether my next move should involve a rook or a pawn.

But then, they started showing up with the fanzines, and they really got my attention. For staring out at me from the pages was the most beautiful creature I thought I'd ever see–a blond, baby-faced god by the name of Mark Hamill.

I whined and wheedled my way into the movie that very weekend and found myself enraptured from the introduction on. It was–as it is–great, and every image, every frame, burned itself into my consciousness. Especially those involving Mr. Mark Hamill, who played an important role in another breakthrough I made that year. Let's just say that even today, thoughts of Mark Hamill bring a certain (ahem) self-satisfied smile to my face.

–Hillari Dowdle

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