[Okay, it seems kind of silly to include a link, because if you aren't familiar with Star Wars, you must have spent your entire life in a cave. On Pluto. But, hey, you never know who's reading your blog, right?]
I remember going to see it with my dad and my sister. The only specific thing I remember about that initial viewing, beyond the sheer joy of it, was my father muttering, “What the hell?” when the first Bantha appeared on the screen.
I don’t think he was that impressed, but my dad’s so low key I’m not sure you could tell. The only thing my dad visibly geeks out about is Frank Sinatra. If Frank Sinatra had been in Star Wars, it might have had more of an impact on him.
But if you were a kid during the summer of 1977, Star Wars was a big, big deal.
At fifteen, I had a raging crush on Mark Hamill. Frankly, I didn’t get the whole Harrison Ford thing.
Until the 20th anniversary special edition release, when I was thirty-five.
At thirty-five, I totally got the Harrison Ford thing.
I remember thinking at the time that if they released it again in twenty more years, I’d think Alec Guinness was the hot one. Twenty years, after that, I figured I’d be attracted to Yoda.
So, now eighteen years later, Luke and Han are back. Only they’ve aged too.
Mark Hamill is shaggy and graying. "Grizzled" is how I saw him described in an article about The Force Awakens premiere.
Seeing him in the contraband photos smuggled from the set that show him with the shaggy beard and the Obi-wan-esque robes was like seeing an old boyfriend at a high school reunion.
“Hi, wow, good to see you. Um . . . so what are you doing these days?” Besides getting old, you think, feeling snarky and superior.
Until you look in a mirror. Oh. Right. Damn.
But he looks really cheerful. So much happier than he appeared in Return of the Jedi, when was staring down the barrel of spending the rest of his career trying to escape Luke Skywalker.
Harrison Ford looks like he’s about to start yelling at the stormtroopers to get off his lawn. Not because he doesn’t want to be there, but because he’s . . . gasp . . . old.
Well, older than me, at least. Which is all that really matters.