The Star Wars Appeal
When I sat down to watch the new Star Wars movie on Dec. 18, 2015, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew I had to go the first day because it would be the only day to assess the movie objectively. After that first day, spoilers would be everywhere and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist them all.
As I sat in my seat, I felt the familiar chill of anticipation as the opening crawl slid up the screen. But I had to temper my expectations. I did enjoy the second trilogy, but I didn’t love it. Something was missing because it didn’t move me in the same way as the original trilogy. When I re-watched “Revenge of the Sith” recently, I chalked it up that lack of movement to the fact that I was older now and that created an entirely new Star Wars experience.
Once the movie began, I felt a strong sense of déjà vu. The beginning introduced me to a dark, menacing figure that was strong with the force and looking for a missing puzzle piece. Then a character put the puzzle piece into a droid and sent it to a desert planet. Then the robot runs into our hero (heroine) on the planet and the story is off and running. Somehow, I felt I’d seen this whole movie before.
But then it happened. With one scene, I became six years old again. With one scene, every 30+ American male became six years old again. It was the moment that brought all the joy back to Star Wars. It was the point where all of us, all men of a certain age around the world, left the world we’d been living in, a world of doubt, fear, dread, anxiety, and cynicism and went back to the world we wanted. A world filled with hope and magic. Courage and chivalry. Where good and evil were easy to distinguish. With one scene, we knew it was safe to return to the child who still believed he could become a Jedi, conquer the evils of the world, and win the love of a strong princess. We could dream again, even just for a couple of hours in a darkened theater. It was the scene where Rey reintroduced us to the Millennium Falcon.
You see, the Star Wars movies for the men of Generation X weren’t simply movies, they were a calling. They were a support system to help us deal with a world where we felt less and less important. It was a way to believe we could survive family structures that were filled with drinking, drugs, divorce, doubt, and despair. For me and the millions of men in my generation, the Star Wars franchise represents the belief that our lives could still have meaning. I don’t think it is an accident that the first film is called “A New Hope.” That is what the film represented for us, the hope that we could rise from our position in life and attain something noble, something better than what we could expect from our present life course. For ours is the lost generation of men. We came of age during the Women’s Liberation movement, which empowered our mothers as it emasculated our fathers. We came of age during the Vietnam War, the first real American war without glory or purpose or the belief that soldiers are heroes. We came of age during Watergate, which killed our belief in noble leaders and planted the seed of distrust for authority in all of us.
But in 1977, Star Wars offered us a chance to leave that world and brought us the world we wanted. A world where good and evil where easy to identify and good always won eventually. A world where men are strong, noble, wise, considerate, courageous, respectful and self-confident. A world where orphans become heroes. Evil becomes good. The selfish become selfless. Where average people are called upon to rise above their surroundings in support of a noble cause. Where faith is rewarded with power in this life and the next. Where men of character settled their differences in battles of skill and might with swords, not guns. Where men lived by a code of honor and integrity.
More than that, they gave us the belief that our lives could matter. That they might have a deeper meaning, one we might not be able to realize for years. That everything we did, no matter how small and inconsequential, could be part of a greater good. They were a call to arms to overcome any obstacle to be someone important, someone of substance, and someone who matters in the grand scheme of things. They thrilled us not because we can relate to the characters, but because we believed we could grow up to BE one of the characters. We could start from humble beginnings and respond to a greater calling. We would be celebrated for the sacrifices we made to succeed in this calling. And we would find purpose and a certain peace in the pursuit of this calling.
We could watch a Star Wars film and see orphans from desert planets become mystical warriors. Watch a smuggler and gambler become a general. Watch a nobody Stormtrooper question his existence and find his identity. Watch a round hunk of metal with wheels save the day time and time again. Watch a bastard kid with anger issues became master of the universe. Watch a small, green swamp creature move ships, read minds, and control everything through his faith and patience.
The real world offers none of that for us. We have fathers who don’t teach us how to be men, many because they weren’t taught themselves. Then the ones we seek to fill that void tend to fail us. Our politicians fail us. Our religious leaders fail us. Our teachers, coaches and family members fail us. Therefore, we come to believe that we have no noble callings. That our lives have no deeper meaning. We aren’t called to something greater. Instead, we feel we are called to more of the same.
When I left the theater, I basked in the chance to be six again. The chance to thrill in it all again. The chance to hope, to feel, to glorify what I could believe and what I could become. That’s the magic of Star Wars. That’s the reason the movies have become so much more than entertainment. They are a calling unto themselves. That’s why the second trilogy was so universally loathed. It failed on that promise and became nothing more than a political tale with good special effects.
And that is why “The Force Awakens” shattered so many box office records. It renewed our faith. It brought back the belief that we could fight for a better existence than the one we occupied every day. It entertained us while it supported us. In the past, we could be Han, Leia, Luke or even Darth Vader. Now, we can be Rey, Finn, Poe or Kylo Ren. We could find our true path and live in the knowledge that our lives, our sacrifices, our dreams do matter. That we matter and that what we’ve done is exactly what we were meant to do.
For me and other men of Generation X particularly, it is a lesson… a reassurance… that we need every day.
