“Ancient Melanesian Masks Thundered Past To Get To Star Wars Exhibit”
-- Headline from The Onion, May 2002

Nineteen ninety-seven is a life away from now. I was a junior at Grand Island High School in western (not “upstate”) New York. I hadn’t figured out life wasn’t something that fell on your head; it was a river you navigated with intelligence and judgment. I’d figure that out later (to a point, anyway). The tallest building in New York was not the Empire State Building. A soft, flabby era was at its zenith, unaware of an approaching precipice leading towards a harder tomorrow.

Nineteen ninety-seven featured a celebration/marketing event around the 20th anniversary of “A New Hope.” Each Star Wars film from the original trilogy film was released into theaters with various levels of digital tweaking; some good (the improved ending to “Return of the Jedi”) some not so good (Greedo shoots first). The re-releases were also a way to seed anticipation for the forthcoming prequels, beginning in 1999, continuing in 2002 and ending this Thursday.

Some friends and I caught the re-mastered “Jedi” at a local theater. One friend later remarked that the original ending to “Jedi” (“Yub Nub”) was better than the new one. I wrote to a sci-fi magazine relating this exchange and asked how hard I should kick him in the ass. Though I misspelled “the” as “he,” the letter was published. It was the first time an audience other than a teacher or my parents read what I wrote.

The theater was full of parents and their young children. During Yoda’s death, as he talks with Luke one last time, his face is large on the screen. One earnest young man, not older than three or four, noticed a distinct trait about the ancient Jedi Master. With a lack of awareness uniquely possessed by children, he declared in a loud voice to his mother – and to the theater:
“Yoda has sharp teeth cause he’s a meat eater.”

******

Who knew what would result from such an unassuming beginning?

It’s my grandmother’s fault.

When I was knee high to a fire hydrant, she purchased little C-3PO and R2-D2 action figures for me. She likely figured their shininess would captivate her grandson, a child for whom watching a blue sock puppet with googly eyes devour a cookie was a religious experience.

As is the case with grandmothers, she was right.

Kenner must have coated those figures with some sort of subcutaneous mind control fluid because I became cuckoo for Star Wars. My parents took me to see “Return of the Jedi” when I was three. I was hypnotized. I wouldn’t take off my coat. I wouldn’t sit in my seat. I just stood and stared at the screen.

Star Wars action figures, vehicles, lunch boxes, newsletters, magazines, erasers, pencil cases, posters, books, records, birthday candles, video games, nightlights, Halloween costumes – all circled in constant orbit around my life.

Did you have an Admiral Ackbar eraser? I did.

The first videotape we ever rented for our new VCR was “Jedi.” The machine ate it. My father sounds nothing like James Earl Jones, but when he attempted to imitate Darth Vader’s voice, it freaked me out. We have a creek in our back yard and a cluster of four trees closer to the water than the house. We called those trees Dagobah. I was Luke Skywalker for Halloween one year. The weekend frequently meant watching an episode of the original trilogy taped off CBS or HBO.

Hell, because I had blonde hair 20 years ago, I thought I looked like Luke. I’m sure my parents did nothing to dissuade this belief.

I cannot calculate the amount of times I’ve watched any Star Wars film – prequel or original (It’s dozens for the originals, a handful for the prequels. And yes, I haven’t seen “Revenge of the Sith,” so that’s zero, smart guy).

Whenever “The Imperial March” or the opening theme plays on a nearby television set I’m near, I immediately whip my head around to watch. My favorite “SportsCenter” promo is when Artoo, Chewie, et al join the Bristol crew to assist with their new HDTV equipment.

“Why you gotta throw my racket?” Andy Roddick asks a clumsy C-3PO.

I notice when a magazine runs a publicity photograph from “Return of the Jedi” in a story about “The Empire Strikes Back.” I barely choke down the urge to correct people when they misquote lines from the films. I remember my parents wedding anniversary because it falls on the same day each prequel debuts in theaters.

So, yeah, I’m a Star Wars fan.

******

When he signed to make “A New Hope,” director George Lucas retained the sequel rights in exchange for less money. While 20th Century Fox owned “A New Hope,” he’d own whatever movies were made after (assuming any movies were made after.)

He also secured merchandising rights for the films. Before “Star Wars,” film merchandise was virtually non-existent. Charlton Heston’s bare-chested, monkey-infested “Planet of the Apes” was the most “merchandised” to that point, and that was very minor. If studios considered merchandising at all, it was a throw away easily given to a young filmmaker in lieu of paying him extra cash. I’m sure those executives thought they snookered the big-eared kid from Modesto.

I doubt they think that now. The numbers are overwhelming.

Six films. Thirteen hours of movies. Over $3.4 billion in non-inflation adjusted ticket sales, according to imdb.com. Approximately $9 billion in merchandise sales, according to Time. And roughly 130 million videotapes and DVDs of the five films have been sold.

The impact of the Star Wars saga on the film industry and American popular culture is incalculable. Consider the Earth after the asteroid impact that killed the dinosaurs or the Union after Appomattox Courthouse – the general contours are the same, but content is radically altered.

Popular science fiction was revitalized following the demise of “Star Trek.” Hollywood box office receipts increased because of Star Wars and films by Lucas’ friend and collaborator, Steven Spielberg.

When the Imperial Star Destroyer flies overhead in the opening shot, a new age of film special effects was born. (The fact the ship flew over the heads of the audience made the shot remarkable. Until “A New Hope,” that motion-control technology didn’t exist.) Now dinosaurs walk alongside Sam Neil, Tom Hanks moons LBJ and Russell Crowe fights tigers in ancient Rome.

The prequels also changed the way films are made by introducing digital camera and digital film projection. Digital filmmaking is not the standard technique yet, as the costs are too high to justify with certain film genres (do we really need to see Julia Roberts’ face in digital quality? No.) The technology will become affordable for other filmmakers. The first movie your child watches will be digital.

Then there’s the merchandising. You can’t walk through a grocery store without seeing Chewbacca’s face on a box of Corn Pops or Samuel L. Jackson on a bottle of Pepsi. I think I saw Natalie Portman clutching a blaster rifle on the side of a Tampax box. Toys are still the biggest money earner. Lost in a box somewhere is my Rancor monster toy from 1983. Of course, my Dad had to glue his arms in place after I broke them off. Now he needs his victims to be pre-smooshed and spoon-fed.

You have George Lucas to thank for things like this.

But the above only explains the saga’s external impact on the film industry. Far more important is its impact on the generation(s) of young people who absorbed the content like a sponge.

Those kids (us) are the true legacy of Star Wars.

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There are two theories why the saga has the impact it does. The first is posited by fans and critics who were either adolescents or adults during the release of the original trilogy (1977-1983). They see the synergy of the special effects combined with the retro/camp appeal harkening back to the Buck Rogers sci-fi serials of the 1930’s and 1940’s. The revolutionary visual effects wedded perfectly with that nostalgia factor to produce a series of enjoyable, if not deep, films.

The second school of thought is the creation of author Joseph Campell, left-wing PBS kook Bill Moyers and enthusiastically encouraged by Lucasfilm. Beyond the special effects, unique characters and compelling story, there is a sub-text to the original (and plausibly, prequel) trilogy that connects with great stories told through time by all cultures. The wayward youth, the redeemable rogue, the darkest evil that must be overcome, the tensions between good and evil, the corrupting influence of technology – the young are subconsciously drawn to these themes, accounting for the saga’s incredible staying power with those in the Zubazpants.com demographic (18-30 years old, mostly male).

School of thought number one is completely wrong. School of thought number two is more right, but way overblown.

I can understand the “Star Wars as a kitschy throwback” school of thought for those who are now our parents. The flashy and goofy-at-first-glance characters (seven-feet tall monkeys that fly space ships) clearly appealed to the inner spirit of fun and frivolity.

However, that Rocket Robbie/Buck Rogers angle doesn’t apply to our cohort (fancy word for our generation) for one simple reason – we didn’t grow up watching those sci-fi shorts. How can we indulge in nostalgia for something that happened 40 years before we were born?

The Star Wars “Magic of Myth” crowd goes a little overboard in their zeal as well. The prequels take hard sledgehammer to this edifice of conceit. Where does Jar Jar Binks stepping in Space Camel poop fit in the dialectical conflict between good and evil? Even their analysis of the original trilogy can be a little much. Does Hoth really represent Luke being frozen in his Jedi training? Or is it just so Rebel Alliance can hide on the “cold planet,” far from the Empire?

There is no doubt that nostalgia is the fuel that keeps the prequels fire burning. “The Phantom Menace” was, at best, a disappointing movie and at worst a cinematic abortion. Yet it grossed $431 million dollars at the box office, second-highest grossing Star Wars movie (behind “A New Hope”) and fifth highest grossing movie ever. Why? It was an attempt by those little kids in 1977-1983 (us) to capture that magic one more time. As reported to me by various Internet sources, the attempt failed.

The saga has even changed how we use personal safety equipment.

The saga succeeds in many “tactical” aspects of modern filmmaking. The special effects still hold up today, for the most part. John Williams’ musical scores are credited with revitalizing the genre – and deservedly so. The visual designs and costumes of the films are stupendous. Darth Vader’s look alone is a masterstroke. Ben Burtt’s catalogue of sounds are iconic (the snap hiss of a light saber, the scream of a TIE Fighter, Vader’s breathing, etc.).

While not the primary, or sometimes even secondary, reason for the saga’s success, it’s impossible to imagine Star Wars without certain actors and characters. Alec Guinness gave the saga a credibility and gravitas almost no other actor could. Harrison Ford swaggered with a detached coolness that gave the saga much needed attitude. The biggest gamble – a character meant to carry the middle act of the second film being a two-foot tall Muppet – succeeded brilliantly. Never once during his scenes in “Empire” and “Jedi” does Yoda make you think he’s a puppet. A meat eater, maybe.

Receive Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, I should have.

The preceding paragraphs are tangential to the real reasons for Star Wars success. The pillars of the saga’s strength are twin: the incredible depth of Lucas’ fictional universe and the theme of good and evil.

By setting the story “far, far away” in the distant past, the galaxy can be simultaneously familiar (humans speaking English) and odd (everything else) without being bogged down by everything relating to Earth. No, “New New York” on Tatooine or a cosmic Soviet Union. Every nook, cranny, corner and bulkhead is full of vehicles, characters, creatures and things familiar enough yet distinctly alien.

Consider the case of Boba Fett (or “The Fett Man,” as Peter Griffin calls him). He was just a throw away character, a simple plot device delivery vehicle to get Han Solo to Jabba the Hutt. Notice that neither Vader or Lando Calrissian ever use his name. On the “Return of the Jedi” DVD, Lucas said he probably would have given Fett a better death if he knew how popular he’d become.

At the same time, the details aren’t so overwhelming as to boggle the mind and distract from the main story. This is a flaw of the prequels. Just count the number of Earth-derived political titles in “Attack of the Clones”: senator, representative, chancellor, queen, prime minister, count, archduke, general. How can the Area 51-like aliens on Kamino have a prime minister? They don’t have noses, why would they use a human term alien to them? It completely throws the viewer out of the moment.

That doesn’t happen in the original trilogy. Grand Moff Tarkin says the Emperor dissolved the Senate. Evil guy (Emperor=bad) gets rid of good thing (Senate=democracy). “Princess” Leia is chased by a big scary guy. Pretty simple.

That simplicity is at the heart of the Star Wars universe. Scroll up a little to reminder yourself how I poo-pooed the “Magic of Myth” meme that Lucasfilm like to drench their press releases in. I do think they overstate the modern myth spin, but with one exception. The first film lays out just the evil pretty well. Darth Vader dresses like a cyber demon from hell and kills people with his bare hands. The Empire blows up planets. Evil like this must be stopped.

The second film (“Empire,” not “Clones”) goes farther and defines just what leads to the Dark Side. “Anger, fear, aggression – the Dark Side are they,” Yoda tells Luke during his training. It’s simple, yet supremely powerful. Those three guide posts act as reminders about the cost of dangerous emotions. While indulging in anger and aggression is not likely to result in your best friend chucking you into an open volcano, the result will not be good.

Children don’t learn about the importance of eating their peas or washing up before dinner from fairly tales and myths. They only learn the big lessons – the necessity of goodliness, power through wisdom, the importance of duty and the danger of evil. Star Wars takes a little of each, wraps it in a compelling story and delivers it piping hot with exciting visuals.

The Star Wars saga was an accumulation of all the above factors (good v. evil, the Harrison Fords, the revolutionary special effects) to create a lightening-strikes-once phenomenon. We’ll never experience anything like it again in our lifetimes. It’s been quite the ride.

******

And that ride ends in a theater at 12:01 a.m. on May 19 or Sunday afternoon on May 22 or on your couch December 3 when you rent “Revenge of the Sith” on DVD. This film means something beyond a mere movie for so many people. It’s the last live thread to their childhood.

When the houselights dim, the title cards appear and the rousing music blares, it’s hard not to get goose bumps. Deep down, you hope next two hours will make you believe in something simple and innocent again as your adult world grows increasingly complicated.

And for two hours your world is defined by the walls of the theater, but extends to the stars and beyond.

Goodbye, Star Wars. And thanks.

And, of course, May the Force —

Ssssh. The lights have dimmed. The movie is starting …

Questions? Comments? Trapped in a dialectical battle between good and evil? E-mail me at mlucinski@yahoo.com

Michael Lucinski works for a non-profit organization in Washington, D.C. He received a B.A. in Political Science from the University at Buffalo, where he was also an editor and columnist for the student newspaper, The Spectrum. He also writes reviews for Silver Bullet Comic Books. I’ve got a good feeling about this.