– So, which Star Wars films have you seen, Mom?
– I can’t recall.
– No, which ones? One, two, three, four, five, or six?
– Maybe one?
– A New Hope?
– Sounds familiar.
– Did you catch the one where Han Solo gets frozen in carbonite?
– I think I did.
– And Princess Leia comes to his rescue; guess who she brings along?
– I’m not sure.
– GUESS.
– Luke?
– No.
– Then I don’t know.
– No, GUESS. Here’s a hint: he’s large and furry and makes a sound like HNEUW HNEUW HNEUW.
– Chewbacca?
– YES! And she also brings R2D-toon and C-3PO.
– R2-D2. It’s actually two.
– No, R2D-TOON.
– I assure you, it’s R2-D2—no N at the end.
– Mom! It’s R2D-TOON!
– If you say so.
– Have you seen the one where Darth Vader fights the Emperor?
– I don’t think so.
– He does, because the Emperor is a Sith.
– Are Siths bad?
– Absolutely, they are the villains. Jedis are the heroes.
– Oh.
– Did you see the movie where Yoda dies?
– I can’t remember.
– Matthew has seen all ten movies, even number nine!
– Honey, there are only six movies.
– No, he swears he saw the ninth one.
– But there are only six.
– Mom! He SAW NUMBER NINE!
– Alright, he claims he saw it.
– In the first film, do you know who you meet? Anakin Skywalker, when he’s just a number old. Guess what number?
– Nine?
– YES! And do you know who he becomes?
– Who?
– Here’s a hint: his name starts with DV.
– Darth Vader?
– YES! And who else is in it?
– I don’t know.
– Take a guess.
– No.
– Okay, hint: he has four light sabers.
– General Grievous.
– YES! How did you know that?
– Because you told me yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that—a never-ending cycle of discussions since last summer when my son was introduced to the original three films of George Lucas’s iconic Star Wars saga.
Here’s a confession: I managed to get through 38 years of life without watching any Star Wars films. Well, that’s not entirely accurate; I vaguely remember being taken to see Return of the Jedi, but all I can recall is my confusion about the storyline and the excitement surrounding it: was this really what everyone had been anticipating?
Initially, my refusal to watch was an innocent boy-girl thing. My older brother and my two cousins were boys, captivated by spaceships and epic battles, while I preferred gymnastics, baking, and reading the Little House on the Prairie series. However, as I soon noticed, many girls in my class loved Star Wars too, indicating that my disinterest was more about my disconnect from pop culture than my gender.
In seventh grade, while others collected Teen and Tiger Beat and belted out Duran Duran lyrics, I couldn’t identify Simon Le Bon in a lineup. To fit in, I plastered a picture of Andrew Ridgeley in my locker, claiming I preferred the brooding half of Wham! while secretly enjoying my Chorus Line LP.
Eventually, I embraced my status as a cultural outlier—the only child of the ‘80s who hadn’t seen the legendary films. It became an amusing tidbit at parties, generating incredulity when I revealed my ignorance of what my former girlfriend, an English professor, referred to as one of the “sacred texts of our generation.” To her, alongside the Old Testament and Ulysses, was The Empire Strikes Back.
I had planned to maintain my Star Wars-less life as a testament to living fully without them. But then I became a parent. And then our sperm donor—who happens to be a film and cultural studies professor—stepped in. “Mom!” my eldest son exclaimed one day after a sleepover. “Rob showed us this movie! Do you know what a light saber is?”
Now I have a 6-year-old and his 3-year-old brother who are completely captivated. Their conversations revolve around light sabers and plans to dress as General Grievous for Halloween. Just the other morning, I stumbled upon them, the older one wielding a toy light saber while the younger used a broom. “Come, Luke, join me on the dark side, and together we will rule the universe,” said the older one. “Okay,” the little one replied. I now find myself at the mercy of a 6-year-old’s non-stop Star Wars quizzes. If you’re reading this, I might still be alive—send help.
Eventually, I cracked under pressure. I agreed to watch the original trilogy, much to my sons’ excitement. I secretly hoped to be proven wrong, to feel enlightened and transformed. I’ve seen the joy the Star Wars universe brings, and I longed to experience that thrill. Listening to others discuss the saga sounds like a dose of nostalgia, and I desired that happiness.
However, it didn’t quite work out. Perhaps I’m too old or too cynical. The advancements in special effects over the past 30 years may have desensitized me. Or maybe Carrie Fisher’s legacy, for me, is less Princess Leia and more Postcards From the Edge. I found A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back entertaining, yet not enough to keep me from checking my email or even leaving during the last ten minutes of the latter to pick up my sperm donor, who sighed when I mentioned my departure from George’s universe. It’s the lament of those who have held onto their virginity for too long: when the moment finally arrives, one can’t help but question the hype.
Nonetheless, I acknowledge the benefit of knowing what the world is buzzing about. My Star Wars quizzes with my son, though tedious, would be far worse without any context. As for the “sacred texts,” I’m not entirely convinced, but watching the films has ironically enriched my reading experiences. When Mary Karr mentions a dancer resembling “the big hairy Wookie who follows the hero around,” I can now visualize that character. Similarly, when Newfoundland novelist Jessica Grant compares a woodcut to “Han Solo when he gets frozen by Darth Vader,” I understand the reference. These connections make my reading experience more fulfilling.
This Halloween, I’m unsure if we can manage a General Grievous costume—after all, he has four arms, and I suspect my 6-year-old’s ulterior motive is to collect four light sabers. But I’m secretly hoping to convince both kids to don Darth Vader costumes. Big Darth Vader and little Darth Vader. “You all should dress as Darth Vader,” suggested my acupuncturist, conjuring a mental image of my sons, their two mothers, and their sperm donor, all dressed in black, light sabers drawn, ready to rule the universe.
And honestly, that’s not a bad picture at all.
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In summary, my late introduction to Star Wars has unexpectedly enriched my life, offering me cultural references and bonding moments with my children. While I may not have become a fervent fan, I appreciate the connections it has created in my reading and interactions.