First of all, I would like to apologize for the fact that I’m even talking about Star Wars. I mean, what can possibly be said that hasn’t been said already? How much more superlative speculation before even the die hardest fans say, “Fuck it, I just don’t care anymore, but uh, wake me when it’s time to watch Episode VII.” There are those of you who gave up on Star Wars a long time ago. Maybe it was before the prequels. Maybe it was within the first 5 minutes of The Phantom Menace. But here’s the truth, folks. No matter how much you may want it to, Star Wars is not going away.
Even without the upcoming onslaught of new timeline content. Even if the prequels were the last films we ever got to see. Star Wars would still not go away. It’s so embedded in the cultural psyche that I wouldn’t be surprised if 3,000 years from now social anthropologists surmised that we must have worshipped a little green demiurge, a technorganic overlord of the underworld, or a giant falcon which legend has it lived for a millennium. So I’m Forcing myself to write this HACK about Star Wars. Not for speculation; you will find none here. I just want to get this bit out of my head so I can finally say, “Fuck it, I just don’t care anymore, but uh, wake me when it’s time to watch Episode VII.”
You see, I have my own personal demons to exorcise when it comes to Star Wars. I was born a year after A New Hope. I think I saw Empire when I was 2 because I seem to remember having my mother correct me when I said Darth Vader is Han Solo’s father. I’m told that when my parents took me to see Return of the Jedi, I fell asleep in the theater midway through Jabba’s palace. (It would turn out to be foreshadowing.) A few years later I would waste perfectly good Saturdays down in the basement eating macaroni and cheese with clams while rewatching the original trilogy.
Quick side note: Stop hating. Macaroni & cheese with clams is fucking delicious.
Then the Special Editions hit the theaters. I saw A New Hope with my high school girlfriend. I saw The Empire Strikes Back with my college friends. I saw Return of the Jedi with the same high school girlfriend, right before she broke my heart and dumped me for a greasy loser—the guy who would get to elope with her virginity.
Quick side note: That’s not entirely accurate. Apparently when she was seven she slid off her bicycle seat and cunt crushed her clit on the frame. This had the effect of breaking her hymen. So, as far as I’m concerned, she was damaged goods from the get go.
In Junior Year of college I finally decided to enhance my Philosophy major with an independent study in consciousness expansion. OK OK—I started smoking pot.
One of my most vivid memories is sitting in the dorm with The Kidd, watching The Empire Strikes Back, i.e. the best Star Wars related anything, followed by The Thrawn Trilogy trilogy, Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Robot Chicken, and Clone Wars Vols. 1 & 2,. And of course, like listening to Pink Floyd or writing a term paper, it seemed completely new in a déjà vu kind of way. It was the first appearance of The Emperor scene. I swear those few seconds seemed stretched into slow motion. I could actually feel the oppression of the Emperor, the burden of Vader’s obedience. The subtle, piercing music created an image in my mind that to his day I can still see clearly. A single, thick black line on white background, different colors running along its edges. The line branches out at certain points, splintering in different directions. Each fracture creates new lines and colors and branches, continually creeping out into infinity.
I turned to The Kidd and mimicked one of his own classic lines, “That was exquisite.”
At long last, in May of 1999 I found myself waiting in line outside the theater for The Phantom Menace. My friend Colin Webb would oft after tell the tale of my reaction the second Jar Jar started speaking. I put my head in my hands. I whispered, “No… No.” But my heart was screaming, “Nooooooooooooooooooo!”
Quick side note: I swear to you, I knew this would all happen. I swear to you all that before the movie came out I had a dream, nay, a premonition. I foresaw that very scene in the forests of Naboo, where Jar Jar, Qui Gon, and Obi Wan first exchange dialogue by the pond. And in my dream Jar Jar also dove into the pond, as Qui Gon and Obi Won walked in and followed. In the dream I realized to myself that this movie is a piece of shit. Now I was awake and facing the reality presumably helped co-create. And this is why I will not speculate anymore about Star Wars. Sure, we can all blame George Lucas, or anyone else directly involved with those movies. However, surely some of the blame goes to the Ever-Jinxing Hype, and all the psychic damage it inflicted.
Nevertheless, it all fit in with the theme of my senior year: disillusionment. A handful of Noam Chomsky books, an Existentialist Philosophy class, and a 4 month bash of psychedelic trips were all it took for me to believe that God doesn’t exist and all human endeavors are essentially an historical load of crap.
Quick Side Note: I would later come to realize that by even invoking the thought of God not existing meant that I was imagining the concept of God. And since imagination sooner or later becomes consensus reality consciousness, then God already exists because we, by existing, are co-creating God.
Then there was the New Years 2000 trip. The Kidd and I ritualistically ingested 4 yellow gel tabs, each. This is neither the time nor the space for that story. Suffice it to say, processing the experience took at least the next decade, unless it’s still happening now.
Quick side note: It’s ALWAYS happening now.
But in the early throws of the new millennium, I just couldn’t deal with onslaught of metapersonal information. I experienced frequent bouts of unbridled paranoia. I couldn’t sleep at night. I needed something familiar, something comforting, something I could rely on that was distracting yet fixed, and psychologically harmless. Star Wars.
And so, for the next 8 FUCKING YEARS, I would fall asleep to one of the original trilogy movies. Then later, all six films. I would actually a roll a six sided die to randomize which opening crawl I’d fall asleep to.
Not every night, mind you, yet more nights than not. It was a recurring inside joke immortalized in an episode of It’s The Crew!
Yes, I eventually stopped. I cleansed it from my consciousness. I would never entirely expunge Star Wars from my soul, but as I made peace with myself, so I learned to let go of the sextilogy, and all the Clone Wars cocksucking that came after.
Quick side note: Except for the Clone Wars Vols. 1 & 2, animated by Gennedy Tartakovsky. That was some quality shit.
The ultimate catharsis came to me (and many others) in the form of filmmaker Mike Stoklasa and his production company, Red Letter Media. For myself and countless others, Harry S. Plinkett’s autopsy of Episodes I, II, III would become the ultimate cathartic nail in the proverbial Star Wars coffin.
Quick Side Note: Stoklasa and Co. have also reviewed the two J.J. Abrams Star Trek reboots. The closest sense I can get as to what J.J. Abrams’s Star Wars Trilogy will feel like is by listening to RLM’s critique of the Star Trek films. And honestly, I’m not sure that makes me look forward to watching his trilogy. It might be something of a necessary evil before we can get a unique perspective from a different director.
From that point on I would go on to conclude (in an earlier HACK you haven’t read) that the only way we would find a new hope (see what I did there?) would be when George Lucas finally dies. I don’t know how old you are, dear reader, but this is still possible in my lifetime…
Quick side note: …unless I keep smoking a light blue pack o’ day of American Spirit cigarettes.
It’s not that I want to see George Lucas dead. I just figured he would never let it go until he did. Even after the rest of us Forced ourselves to forget, (you see what I did there, right?), Death would have to strangle his bloated worm-like corpse. Then, and only then, could we escape the wiggling tail-end of the Lucas legacy.
Quick side note: I’m going too far in a few places.
But lo and behold! George Lucas didn’t need to die. All he had to do was the same thing he’s been doing since the halcyon days of the Christmas Special and the Ewok movies: sell out.
We are at the dawn of a new millennium falcon my friends. And just as time-flow and novelty patterns continue to exponentially increase, my brain has already sponged enough speculation in the last 3 months as it has in the last 30 years.
Episodes VII, VIII, IX. (Sorry Timothy Zahn sequels, you were good for a while, but now you’re damaged goods.) The original cast returning. (Carrie Fisher is on a strict diet of nothing but blue milk.) Director J.J. “will-not-go-away”Abrams. (Who allowed this guy to splooge his overrated semen over the two most iconic sci-fi series of all time?) A‘Rebels’ TV series. (And sooner or later, real life stormtroopers stepping on our liberties.) Young Han Solo. YOUNG FUCKING YODA! Other writers, other directors.
No matter how much you may have wanted it to, no matter how much excitement or apathy you may now profess, all you have to do is ask yourself, “Will Star Wars ever go away?” And the answer you surely now know is, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
At this point, I’m too old to obsess yet too nerdy not to care.
So this is what it comes to. Between these two general realities: the reality where Lucas keeps copulating with his creative corpse and keeps going through the pockets for loose change, or the reality where he donates the organs and embalms the body, I would much rather live in the reality where Star Wars is resurrected and we can commune with the expository ghosts of that modern mythos.
For you philosophers out there, let’s call it Palpatine’s Wager. Just as I’m betting on the notion that God does exist, I will gladly pay the price for my previous lack of vision.
Star Wars can be good again. Hell, it can even be bad again. It doesn’t matter, because it will at least be new.
So don’t fret like Boba Fett. Digest your speculation into the almighty Sarlacc.
Yes. Feel it. Through the force, things you will see, other places, the future, the past… old friends long gone…
Towel Boy is a nocturnal daydreamer.