The Hyperion Chronicles

The Hyperion Chronicles

“A good column, this is”

#353 MTFBWY

I just got in from seeing STAR WARS EPISODE III: REVENGE OF THE SITH. At the moment, I possess not the words to describe all of my emotions. So, until then, I thought I would share some of my bestest Star Wars memories. I can’t promise you will enjoy this column if you’re not a Star Wars fan, but then again: I can’t promise to ever speak to you again if you’re not a Star Wars fan, so there you go.

I first heard of STAR WARS when we moved to America. It was still in the theatres (or back in; they used to do that more often), and my dad took my brother Achmed and me to see it. I still remember the rush of excitement when those first John Williams notes hit my ears and the Star Wars logo appeared on screen. The scrolling text was unlike anything I had ever seen, and the whole experience was epochal. The only movie I really remember from Kenya was THE CAT FROM OUTER SPACE, and STAR WARS blew that away. I remember afterwards for days—maybe even weeks and months—Achmed and I would pretend light-saber fight, and there seemed nothing in the universe more thrilling than the idea that we could one day become Jedi.

My initial impressions of THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK are less stellar. I never saw it in a theatre, but instead at some church-school party (a school run by a church). It was my neighbor’s and I went as his “friend,” only to have him abandon me there, not knowing anyone, and he and his friends made fun of me for reasons I can’t even remember. This contributed to me not liking EMPIRE for a long time.

The other negative connotation was that I had this birthday party and my mother made me invite Valerie Mark. She was a…troubled girl (WARNING: IF YOU’RE EASILY GROSSED OUT, SKIP TO THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT PARAGRAPH). I had a birthday cake the shape of Darth Vader, and Valerie picked her nose (or at least pretended to) and then wiped the booger on my piece of cake. I tried to get a different piece of cake, but this extremely bossy woman Sue Crosby was handing out the cake, and she wouldn’t let me have a different piece. So, that didn’t help. (Come to think of it, this is probably the reason I don’t eat cake to this day.)

Luckily most of my Star Wars memories since then have been positive, or I might not have become a life-long fan. For RETURN OF THE JEDI, I remember Cami Hurt got this really cool patch (the kind you sew on your jacket) in an egg at the grocery store, in one of those machines. Her mother offered it to me, but only if I paid the twenty-five cents, which may seem laughable, but in 1983 was a small fortune. I coveted that patch, and eventually got it, but I don’t think it ever got on any jacket.

By the time college came around I think I had seen the holy trilogy (as we called it) at least 100 times. I can still remember nights when I’d have a huge paper to write, or 80 pages of Philosophy to read, but then someone across the hall would bounce in and say, “We’re watching Star Wars, back-to-back-to-back.” Somehow there didn’t seem to be anything so important that it couldn’t wait six and a half hours.

When Lucas announced they were bringing the trilogy back into theatres, with new special effects, the excitement was like nothing I can remember. The day STAR WARS was opening, my friend Carlos and I went to the store and bought some $60 worth of snacks, which we put in Carlos’s trench coat-length leather jacket. We went to the best theatre available at that time (about an hour away), and one that let you take food into the theatre. Only, we didn’t tell Carlos that. Carlos was so paranoid! All night, he kept imagining theatre personnel were looking at him askance. He lathered himself into quite the frenzy. We never told him the real story until about five years later. (I’m laughing just writing that sentence.)

That wasn’t even the best non-movie part of the evening, but sadly, I am unable to fully share the other part, other than to say it involved a four-foot drunk guy threatening to kill me. Movie-wise it was just as I’d hoped. The audience cracked up at Luke’s now famous whiny “But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!” And with the full familial knowledge of the three movies, we “Ewwwwwed” good-naturedly at the Luke-Leia scenes. Such good times.

When EMPIRE came out three weeks later (by now, perhaps my favorite one), Carlos and my friend D and I had midnight tickets. To kill time until the show, we went to Outback Restaurant to hang out for several hours. I got my own Bloomin’ Onion, and was happily eating it, fully intending to get to the outstanding bread in good time (we had like four hours). Carlos and D were eating the bread like survivors of the Gulag, and every time they asked for more they told the (not overly bright) waitress that I was eating all the bread. The waitress got angrier and angrier with me, scolding me not to eat all their bread, which make Carlos and D laugh like Hyenas when she left (as only getting your buddy into undeserved trouble can make you do). And when it was time for me to get my own bread…sigh.

Then later the same girl spilled Ranch Dressing all over my pants. This was back in the days when I lied, and what a liar I was. With a very straight face I told her that these had been my grandfather’s pants, and that his dying wish was that I see EMPIRE STRIKES BACK in them. She felt so bad that she gave us the meal for free. I think we tipped her like $80 or something. Good times.

As exciting as the original trilogy back in theatres was, though, I don’t think anything will ever top the anticipation I felt when Episode I came out. In an absolute genius stroke of marketing, the tickets didn’t come out weeks in advance like they do now. You had to camp out for them. The movie started at 12:01 a.m. on Wednesday, and the tickets didn’t come out until 3:00 Tuesday afternoon.

Monday night we first went to Steak & Shake and got some grub, played some cards. Then about ten o’clock we headed over to the theatre. We were one of the first 8 groups. We set up a card table and chairs, and started playing Paseo Dos, a game I learned in college and had since adapted until it was completely my own. At first people just looked at us curiously, like you do when you first sit down next to someone in an airplane; polite but distant. After a couple of hours a few people asked what we were playing. “Paseo Dos,” we told them. They just nodded, obviously never hearing of it. Several hours after that they were asking how to play.

By Wednesday morning the line stretched sinuously all the way to the main road, about a quarter mile. People kept coming to the front to see what was up, and they noticed us. By now we had a whole crowd watching us, many of them kibitzing. “Oh, you should have played the 8!” One would yell, which was all the funnier because no one but us knew how to play.

One dark moment did happen. I kept a book with all the scores, and every game we had names based on some theme, like different kinds of cars or Disney heroes. Obviously on this night all the themes were Star Wars related. While I was at the pay phone making a call SOMEONE wrote in my book. This was strictly forbidden, as everyone knew. What made matters worse: the name they wrote for me was Jabba the Hut. When threatened with grisly death Bear lamely explained it was because I could do the voice so well, which was true, but I knew they were lying. The jerks never did come clean with who did it, and to this day I’m angry about it.

On a happier note, about nine in the morning we met this group of chicks a few spots back. The fact that they were in line overnight for Star Wars tickets is an aphrodisiac to most guys in and of itself. That they were also very very hot…this is pretty much the holy grail. Our game made us the star attraction, and we easily convinced the girls they should join us as “partners” in our card game. Of course, we only had four chairs, but they didn’t mind sharing. We didn’t mind either. We hit it off so well that we made plans to see the movie with them the next night. (Note: by six the next night I believe I had already seen the movie twice. Yes, I know: total geek.) The whole experience of waiting in line for tickets was as much fun as watching the movie, and one we initiated for all big movies ever since.

I’ve had many great memories surrounding Star Wars, but that doesn’t explain my—and many others’—attachment to the franchise. I know this month we’ve been bombarded with explanations, usually involving phrases such as “seminal movie experience” or “cultural zeitgeist,” and I’m not saying those are wrong. But to many, Star Wars is and always will be much more than that.

I suppose the closest thing I can compare it to is a religion, which may sound sacrilegious, but really isn’t meant that way. What I do mean is: some people can go to church and have a profound spiritual experience, and feel like a hunger in their soul is met. Others go to the same building and feel nothing. Those who do feel it try in vain to explain how their faith allows them come close to God, and how that communion moves them.

I’m not trying to say that Star Wars is a profound spiritual experience on the same level as religion…ah, screw it. That is what I’m trying to say. You’ll have to decide whether to get offended on your own, but even if you do, you should still hear and feel the truth of these words for what they are. For many, the experience of Star Wars comes closest to the experience that religion has for many people. Others might watch the movies and enjoy them, but not feel any mystical connection. And some don’t like the movies at all. I’ve never met these people, but I heard they exist.

This is why I sit here, five and half hours after the movie ended, still struggling to put my thoughts into words. I probably need to see it again, as I tend to be so nervous the first time I see a movie of this magnitude that I can’t enjoy it properly. On repeated viewings I can relax more and get more out of it, enjoying the many bon mots thrown my way.

I suppose to many of you what I just wrote sounds bizarre, even cultish, and you’re probably right. On the other hand, you’ll never make a good Jedi, either. For me, I’m comfortable in my love for Star Wars, even if others aren’t. I’m exciting about going back and seeing it again, and then watching all six installments in a row. And then arguing for ever on the various merits of the film, and which one is better and why. Again, I’m sure most of you are rolling your eyes right now.

But a few of you—a very few—are saying “Amen.”

Hyperion

May 19, 2005 [226 b.t.e.]

Credits

Thanks to Koz and Alcott for feedback

Upcoming

Once I see the film once more I’ll have my complete thoughts on Episode III, but since I’ve already tried the Hyperion Nation’s patience, that essay will go in the website. In the meantime, I promise to get back to the regular schedule, with more Fagin, Potpourri, and a Mail Bag

Motto Explanation

[Hyperion just shakes his head sadly]

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