C I P R I A N I

I saw Star Wars for the first time in a drive-in during one of its re-releases. I was a little too young to see the movie when it was first released in 1977. It seems to me I was playing with the toys before I had actually seen the movie for the first time. It was already out there in the ether when I saw it, almost as if it had always existed.

I have some vague, foggy memories of a time before Star Wars, but not many. And it’s the image of Luke Skywalker swinging across the broken bridge with Princess Leia that I in fact remember seeing as a young child.

Since that night, long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away…in Fairmont, WV, I’ve probably seen the Star Wars films hundreds of times and all of its images are still rattling around in my head, but when those particular frames come up – Luke and Leia flying through the air – it almost takes on a different resolution, maybe because it’s the image that’s been with me the longest.

I suspect everyone that holds that film so dear has as many memories about it as I do. And so many of them probably have as much to do with the residual cultural effects of that film as the film itself, if not more so.

From the toys in the basement, to one of my best friends dressing up as Luke from Return of the Jedi on Halloween, to myself wearing a black vest like Han Solo on a random summer Thursday in the late seventies, Star Wars is imprinted and weaved throughout my childhood.

Childhood takes on a magic sheen the further you get away from it. The vivid memories at the same time become cloudy from the distance.

When the movies – Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi – were squarely in the past, the legend of the “Prequels” and the next set of sequels, making the series a glorious nine film saga loomed large ahead. My generation’s collective imaginations bubbled with possibilities and things finally culminated with the infamous debut of The Phantom Menace, a filmthat, along with the other prequels, seemed to both revive and also slowly crush what was left of our childhood.

Of course, actually aging and growing up might have had more than a little to do with this extinguishing of our innocence.

The mojo, “the Force” if you will, was missing from the prequels and while nothing may have lived up to the years of anticipation, these weren’t even good movies.

The idea wasn’t that bad, but I disagree with so much of the execution.

The prequels even manage to soil the original films, which always seemed to exist on some other plane. Star Wars wasn’t the same as other films, but after the prequels, the strings were exposed and they became what they were all along – just movies.

Again, growing up and studying film may have had more than a little to do with that revelation.

And so now as I get older and, like the Millennium Falcon trapped in the Death Star’s tractor beam, approach 40 in the distance, the world of Star Wars has been tucked away until my son discovers it and I’m faced with the conundrum that now haunts my entire generation:

Do I even tell him about the shitty ones? And if so, in what order do I show him the films?

The answer is this:

I start with Star Wars. He’ll eventually grow up and make his own decisions and discover the truth and have his innocence executed just like dear old dad, but until then, I start with Star Wars.

Or “A New Hope” as it’s called in the parlance.

Ah. A New Hope, which we as Star Wars fans find ourselves basking in with the announcement of Star Wars’ creator George Lucas selling his universe, such as it is, to the Walt Disney Company.

When I was much younger, there was a part of me that hoped that I would somehow be involved with the prequels – like Lawrence Kasdan in the late seventies, an upcoming screenwriter penning Empire and Jedi (and Raiders of the Lost Ark for that matter).

While Star Wars is one of my favorite films, it’s not the only picture that played a part in my decision to try and make movies.

Disney’s Pinocchio, may very well be the first film I actually saw in a theatre (also a re-release, of course). The leaves growing out of Pinocchio’s nose – I remember being so very young and seeing that scene in the theatre. Once again though, the tale preceded the viewing of the movie. It was already in the ether that Pinocchio’s nose grew when he told a lie. This tale was imparted to me to keep me honest. But even at that young age, I was struck by Disney’s version of the nose, sprouting leaves and a bird’s nest. Like Luke and Leia swinging through the air, it’s one of my earliest childhood memories.

Childhood. Though I was actually a child of the 80’s, I was just “waking up”, collecting memories at the end of the 70’s. Star Wars, Rocky, Superman, Elvis, Disco, Jimmy Carter. Energy Crisis. Iran. Reagan…

Seems like almost every problem this country now faces was born in my generation’s childhood. I suppose every generation can say that, sins of the father and all…

God knows the Right tried to brand President Obama as “Jimmy Carter” or worse. But Obama’s no more Jimmy Carter as The Phantom Menace was Star Wars.

And now Obama’s just won a second term which is making him look a lot more like Reagan than Jimmy Carter. But this is an important thing to remember:

He’s not Reagan. Or Jimmy Carter.

He’s Barack Obama, the 44^th president of these United States. And he leads our country as it faces some of its greatest challenges, smack dab in this transitional time.

I voted for Barack both times. Last time, like so many, with much more optimism. But let’s remember, I was a little younger and less informed. But I wasn’t as disappointed with his first term as so many because, thanks to the Stars Wars prequels, I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.

That said, I’m not saying that I was completely thrilled with everything he did. It’s not that his ideas were bad, I just disagree with the execution.

I’ve been hearing quite a few post-mortem laments from the Far Right that had it not been for the storm, Hurricane Sandy, an “Act of God”, Obama certainly wouldn’t have won. If one accepts this line of reasoning, one can also conclude that God, in fact, must have wanted Obama to be president. So the right should simply accept this, as disillusioning as this may be.

And make no mistake, this is a disillusioning time. Whether you are democrat or republican, black, white, straight, gay – any of the antecedents that are often strung together in political speeches – if you are an adult, or at least a thinking adult, compared to our childhood, this is a disillusioning time.

And this is not a bad thing, this shattering of illusions and delusions.

Ideas may not be physically tangible, but they are as real as anything, though the execution is often flawed.

One might say God is in the idea, man is in the execution.

When you are a child, you don’t realize the image is make believe. You know the character is lying when his nose starts to grow, but when you’re an adult you become aware of so many false images and must investigate to find the deeper truths. And though sometimes we don’t like what we discover, that doesn’t make it false.

We mustn’t cast aside our good ideas because some would prefer they were just
an illusion just as we can no longer accept illusions as good ideas.

So at the crossroads of disillusionment, perhaps our best days are ahead. Growing old can certainly cause cynicism. It’s easy to be optimistic when you’re young. It takes real character to still be optimistic when most of your dreams are dead.

I don’t know who was more disappointed, the legion of Star Wars fans after the failure of The Phantom Menace set in, all of those folks that cast a vote for Romney last Tuesday, or me when I realized that I’ll probably never be involved in a Star Wars film.

I’m thinking the Romney folks.

My son is probably going to be about the same age I was when I saw the first Star Wars when the new one comes out. As I’ve gotten older, being involved with those moments of my son’s suddenly seems a lot more important.

We grow up, we grow old and we die. And in the middle of it all there is joy and despair, good times and bad, boom and bust, childhood and adulthood – a collection of antecedents that are printed on many a Hallmark card. This is life, not a cause for disillusionment, but a cause for hope.

I hope these next four years are better than the past four. I hope the next three Star Wars movies are better than the last three. And I hope my generation leaves this world a little better than we found it because it wasn’t that bad to begin with. It is, after all, a small world.

May the Force be with us.