ass-lazy tropicana of the mind
new / old / about / reading / rings / guestbook
2002-05-17
Another Star Wars baby.
When I was three, my mother sat me down in front of the TV on a Sunday night, and let me watch part of a movie.
The movie was Star Wars.
I didn't see everything that happened, but I saw enough to know that this was something that changed my life.
Even if I didn't know what happened to the Death Star and the Princess at the end.
We would go to our babysitter's and her son had a large collection of Star Wars toys. I was obsessed with the Yoda's home piece and the little foam "swamp" you could have people sink into.
When I was six, my father picked us up from school one day, and took us to see Return of the Jedi.
And there I was, watching the movie, and I was amazed. There were explosions! And ships! And a princess and a scoundrel and lightning bolts coming out of this guy's hands.
And, again, I knew this was something that would stick with me for the rest of my life.
My brother and I would play on our swingset and call them our speederbikes. He was Luke, I was Leia, and we fought the evil stormtroopers as we ran around the backyard.
We played with our action figures, we rolled around in the dirt -- I lost my Princess Leia and had to replace her with a fashion model doll that was slightly bigger, but worked. More or less.
In 1984, we went to see the Olympic torch pass through Paramount on its way to the L.A. Coliseum. Afterwards, while we waiting for the traffic to move, the radio station played the Ewok song, which was a minor hit around the time Jedi came out, but had disappeared until that time. We danced, we sang along, and we kept telling Dad how much we loved Ewoks.
When we first got a VCR, one of the first things we taped was Star Wars. We watched it regularly and then, one day, my brother wanted to watch the opening of items from the Titanic, which they were doing live on TV. We taped it on the same tape, before Star Wars (taping over some strange 70s' movie that had a VW Beetle in it and Telly Savalas. I think.), and the Titanic opening overran over the first 15 minutes of Star Wars. I yelled at him for awhile.
We buried his Wampa in the backyard and made it so that the joints were caked with mud. We took the action figures and played around the pit my stepfather had dug around a tree stump he wanted to get rid of.
When I was in high school, my dad and I would troll antique fairs and shops looking for Star Wars figures. We would never spend more than $2 on a figure, but we found a couple for dirt cheap that we couldn't help but love. The Han Solo that someone had taken an X-acto knife to the back of his head. The Hoth Han Solo mislabeled as "astronaut guy". Lando Calrissian. Yoda.
I read the comic books (including the first editions of the Dark Horse comics that sold like hotcakes and quickly went up in value for not just being Star Wars, but for being good Star Wars). I read the novels. I kept on needing more and more Star Wars.
I read biographies of George Lucas. I applied to the USC film school in order to have classes in the George Lucas building. I wanted to be a film director so badly -- I wanted to work at the Skywalker Ranch. I went to a program on Young Indiana Jones and saw George Lucas there and knew that there were people all around me who felt the same way I did.
My freshman year at university, I took a little Yoda figure as my lucky charm. He went with me to all the finals.
When they did the re-releases, my boyfriend at the time and I went to see Star Wars with his eight-year-old brother. It was just before Mardi Gras, and the street was being closed off for a parade just as we parked at the theater. All the while, the eight year old kept on telling us how unimpressed he was with Star Wars and how he liked Jedi better. Once the movie began, he was riveted to the screen.
And there's a very fond place in my heart for Phantom Menace. Before it came out, my family came out for my graduation. While there, my dad and I would go to the Taco Bell and buy food for Star Wars toys only. I collected the Pepsi cans and boxes with Star Wars images on them. I had figures, I had cups, I had everything.
I saw The Phantom Menace at a midnight showing the day it opened. (Well, the day after, I suppose. If you want to get technical.) I was convinced that no theater in New Orleans proper would be having it, and I would have to figure out how to get to Metairie in order to see it. When someone mentioned that it was playing at the Prytania, I headed down there, got my ticket, and got ready.
It was a late showing, and there was a large group of drunk people there. They sang Bill Murray's "Star Wars" joke from the old Saturday Night Live sketch, and talked loudly until the movie began.
Once those nine words appeared, everyone was silent.
Afterwards, it was late, and I didn't want to wait for the streetcar. I walked down St. Charles, cars occasionally passing me by, the warm summer air sitting on my skin gently, and I just went through the movie in my head, remembering everything about it.
My best friend and I spent the summer talking about it. We worshipped Amidala, we giggled over the obvious love affair between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. We read fanfiction right and left, loving every minute of it.
I saw it a second time in Minnesota, the day after two friends of mine got married. They hadn't seen it, and we watched it together before we all flew back to New Orleans to go on with our lives.
I went to England, and saw it twice with my fianc�. We bought more cups, more posters, more of everything. I regret not getting the Yoda backpack. Or the Maul backpack.
When I was working at the publicity firm, I bought two twelve-inch action figures, a Darth Maul and an Obi-Wan. They matched up perfectly on the opposite bookcases and were something of amusement for whoever walked into our front room.
My coworker brought in all her old action figures and laid them out on the bookcase. Eventually, we posed them and took photos. We pasted the photos on the window facing the sidewalk and people would stop and look at them. Occasionally, people would come in, impressed at our pictures.
I went to my first slash convention, and hung out with a large group of Phantom Menace slashers. They wore beige. I wore glitter. We all got along fabulously.
Why am I remembering all this? Because, last night, I saw Attack Of The Clones. And no matter what it is, it's Star Wars. It's something with all that personal history and memory behind it, and there's no way around how much it shaped my life and there's no way around how much I love it.
It isn't just a movie for me. It's such a strong and definite part of my childhood -- it's shaped who I am now. And this movie...this movie brought it all back.
I'm a Star Wars baby. I was born in 1977, the same year it was released, and there's no way around how much it's made me what I am.
visit other places: dymphna.net / livejournal / wish list
joined: diary reg / diary crit / diary review / tiki reviews / gblog / little queer / hit or miss / mac-made / btjs:cordy
designed february 2002 by kate bolin, dymphna.net design. space provided by diaryland. looks best in ie5+ on a macintosh, but that's unsurprising, isn't it?