kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Star Wars, New England Heroes, and A Thank You Letter to George Lucas I almost went to see the latest episode of Star Wars last night, but the available showing was at 9:30pm, which is a bit late for me on a weeknight (shut up, or I’ll have to beat you with my official Old Farts Club card.) But like any geek fanatic, I’ve been reading reviews, rewatching the original three movies, and I caught Episode 1 on the tube a week or so ago. There is no doubt in my mind that I will go see Episode II, probably this weekend. The critics have always had a lot to say about Star Wars and George, and most of it not entirely without merit. They complain that the characters are wooden, the story a cliched fairy tale, the endings improbable and, well, the characters are wooden. They complain that the stories are sexist and anti-feminist and racist and a few other –ist’s and –ism’s that I’ve probably overlooked. But what became obvious to me over time is that a) reviewers don’t know what-for about science fiction and b) they’re trying too hard. Ray Bradbury said “The golden age of science fiction is….twelve.” and he was right. My sister told me once, in researching the pulp writers of the 20’s, that the basic qualification for a sci-fi story in that day was NOT believable tech or strange powers…but instead a tale that provoked “a sense of wonder”. Most movie reviewers, if they ever had a sense of wonder, have probably buried it under heaps of snide remarks. And if any of them were ever twelve, well…. I was seven when the original Star Wars came out Not coming from a pop-culture family, I think it came around again for the second time before I actually saw it on the big screen. But I remember the fuss—the lines, the fans, the campouts, the Halloween costumes. As I said, not coming from a pop-culture family, we didn’t receive these toys or buy into the hype….but I did see the movie. Eventually. It was, of course, like nothing else I had ever seen before—after all, none of us had. And yes, the acting was low key and the story a bit of a cliché….….but it sounded like home to me. Low key, note, not wooden. You see, I am a New Englander down to my core, and, well, as a friend of mine says in a slow, deep coast Maine accent—“We don’t fuss much”. There isn’t much flapping and wailing in this part of the country. So it seemed entirely believable to the me of age ten—as it still does, to the me of age thirty-two—that a rustic farmer boy would mourn his aunt, uncle, and friend, but still go on to just get the job done, regardless, rather than wallowing in despair. Luke is young—it follows that he doesn’t always know what to say, or doesn’t say what he has to say all that well. Leia, too, is young and suffering from shock and torture—I don’t expect her to be at her most cohesive best. (Small digression: I’m only going to address the sexism once and once only. I’ve heard it said that there are a dearth of “good role models for girls” in sci-fi and fantasy. If you truly believe that you can only have for role models people who have the same configuration of genitalia that you do, well, I have nothing else to say to you. If, on the other hand, you have a little more imagination, showing anyone a portrait of ANYBODY who’s Fighting for The Good Guys should have a salutary effect. There. Done.) And the flying….the flying, against that lovely music that John Williams wrote…..I lost my heart forever, caught in the sense of wonder. This is what it is to fly, in the pitch darkness of space. It is not an accident that the first real piece of jewelry I designed is a star. I first saw “Empire” in the Navy Theater on base in the tiny town I grew up in. My mother, lovely, calm, not even a sci-fi fan, sat in the theater and squeaked and pulled her feet in under her chair when the Imperial Walker’s foot came down on Luke’s fighter. I am a somewhat unsentimental moviegoer. I’ve sat through the worst five-tissue-box type movies with dry eyes, and tend to watch action movies to laugh. Only three movies have ever made me cry—“Shadowlands”….every time the Enterprise blows up…..and the theme music to Star Wars. A few years ago, when they were re-releasing the original trilogy with all the bells and whistles that Lucas would have loved to have included in the first release, but didn’t have the tech to do then, I sat in the theater listening to THAT MUSIC and unashamedly mopped tears on my sleeve. Oh, there are things about the first Star Wars trilogy, or Episode 1, that at the tres sophistique age of thirty-two I could criticize, I suppose. The acting does get stiffer. I’m not crazy about the ghosts of Yoda and Obi-Wan. The dancing-girl scene is just an excuse to show off Leia in a bikini. I’m not much more crazy about Jar-Jar Binks than anyone else was, although having seen the culture clash in person, I could see where what one culture writes off as annoying silliness might just be the mores of the day in the other; and that is some of what I think Jar-Jar was intended to embody. But throughout all four movies is the wonderful sense I have of George taking me by the hand, and saying “See what I found? See what I discovered? Look here! See that?” on the billowing starcloud of that lovely, lovely music. I think the thing that bothers me most when critics start ripping at Star Wars is that they tend to describe it in a very scornful tone as “fairy-tale”. As someone who made a good deal of her living telling fairy tales at one time, I want to clock a few heads against the wall, yelling “What’s wrong with FAIRY TALES, C’mon buddy, TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT YOU THINK IS WRONG WITH FAIRY TALES….”; Fairy tales from different cultures are, well, different. They’re fascinating both as cultural artifacts and anthropological oddities. Having studied fairy tales for well over 15 years, at this point, the one universal element of fairy tales seems to be…surprise….a sense of wonder, where magical things are every day, but the problems are just as real. There may be living trees or seven-league boots (or Jawas and landspeeders and Jedi swords….) but the issues are love, and loss, and fear, and strength. And Our Hero wins not because she has the biggest or the best army, but because she has the biggest and the best heart. So yes, sometime in the next week I’ll be going to see Episode II, complete with popcorn and tissues. I’ll watch New Englanders stumping through space, unwilling to make a fuss and doing the best they can with what they’ve got. And I’ll look, and I’ll see, in every frame, George Lucas peering out saying “Did you see that? Isn’t it COOL? Do you like it?” And cry when John Williams buoys me away, as usual. 6:02 p.m. - 2002-05-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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