Forcing The Force
Friday, November 19th, 2010Every father must have some special interest or hobby he hopes to share with his children.
For some dads, it may be baseball, stamp collecting or a specific kind of music. My father demonstrated an affinity for newspapers, alcohol and the Cleveland Browns. Fortunately, I have been able to withstand two of those three evils.
My wife Shannon and I have agreed on many of the difficult choices that need to be made for our sons, Evan, who is hurtling toward 5, and Sean, who is zipping toward 3. We agreed on when to introduce religion, when to start allowing Evan to sleep in the top bunk and which preschool to send them to.
But we have disagreed on when to introduce one of my great interests and diversions: “Star Wars.”
When I was 10 or so, “Star Wars” burst into pop culture with an atomic force that continues to echo and evolve nearly 35 years later. It is difficult to explain to young people today just how and why the movie and its immediate sequels — “The Empire Strikes Back” and “Return of the Jedi” — were so influential. But back in the dark ages of 1977 — before the Internet, before home video, before the proliferation of hundreds of cable TV channels — movies held much greater power over the American imagination. If you missed a movie in the theater, you did not see it again unless it appeared years later on television or was re-released. So “Star Wars,” which ignited a revolution in film technology and forged a community of fans hungry to own any plastic reproduction of the experience, redefined a generation’s notion of “cool.”
Before “Star Wars,” junk like “Hong Kong Phooey” and “The Banana Splits” filled Saturday morning television and decorated lunchboxes. “Star Wars” blew past such one-dimensional dreck and ignited imaginations for people like rock ‘n’ roll had 20 years before, and like the “Harry Potter” books would 20 years later.
To belabor the point, for many of us, pop culture and our connection to it is clearly delineated between Before “Star Wars” and After “Star Wars.”
But for Evan, “Star Wars” is simply another stream of pre-existing reality, like Disney movies, SpongeBob SquarePants and superheroes on a scale from Mr. Incredible to Batman. My wife has argued for a year now that since Evan already knows most of the characters through T-shirts, Happy Meal toys and the slowly growing collection of vehicles and action figures we’ve acquired through garage sales, he would enjoy seeing the actual films.
Part of me knows she has been correct. Evan chose a “Star Wars” lunchbox for preschool (well, “Clone Wars,” but that’s what they’re pushing these days), loves his “Star Wars” pajamas with the Lego likenesses of the characters and has worn thin the little “Star Wars” picture book that teaches the alphabet (“J” is for “Jedi!”).
And yet …
A few years ago, the satirical newspaper The Onion ran a story about an overeager father who makes his son sit through “Star Wars.” The dad hopes the film will inspire the same euphoric reaction in his son it had in him decades earlier but it elicits a reaction of “Meh. It’s OK,” from his son.
The article chronicles the dad’s mystification and disappointment that his boy wasn’t blown away. I certainly do not want to be that dad, yet I am aware of my own indefensible love for these films, so I have delayed showing them to Evan.
But a week or so ago, we took Evan to a matinee of the animated film “Megamind.” It centers on superheroes, aliens and slapstick, three elements as attractive to a young boy as recess, candy and mud puddles. Evan loved it, talked about it nonstop and called it the “best movie ever,” a critical appraisal that can be forgiven someone who has not yet experienced a film more sophisticated than “The Backyardigans: Robot Rampage.”
But the “best movie ever” gauntlet had been thrown, so that afternoon, we made some popcorn, darkened the room and started the DVD of “Star Wars” on the big-screen TV.
I doubt Evan will remember the experience, but I will never forget it. He watched the opening space battle with awe, appreciated the comedic roles of R2-D2 and C-3PO and moved closer to me when Darth Vader made his dramatic first appearance. He was curious about the scrap-collecting Jawas, jumped in my lap when the nasty Tusken Raiders attacked Luke Skywalker and delighted in the mysteries of hyperspace, lightsabers and cantina aliens.
Evan stayed engrossed throughout the Death Star trash compactor scene and was truly shocked when — spoiler alert! — Vader’s saber cuts down Ben Kenobi.
“I thought the good guys always win,” Evan whispered, distressed by the loss of the Jedi Knight.
Later, when Skywalker’s proton torpedoes explode the Death Star into smithereens, Evan raised his arms in triumph and whooped with excitement. He was troubled by — spoiler alert! — Vader’s escape, but as soon as the film ended, he began asking if we could watch the next one, “The Vampire Strikes Back.”
“Not today,” I said. “Let’s let this one soak in for a bit.”
I hesitated, then asked, “So, you liked it, right?”
Evan’s answer brightened my spirit.
“It was great!” he said, enthusing about space lasers, Chewbacca, robots and the desert planet.
I was relieved and proud. A major torch had been passed and no one — by which I mean me — got burned.
Then, as Evan jumped off the couch to seek some toys to play with, he delivered a proton torpedo of his own.
“But I liked ‘Megamind’ better,” he said.
Michael S. Miller is editor in chief of Toledo Free Press and Toledo Free Press Star. E-mail him at mmiller@toledofreepress.com.













