Real

Unsurprisingly, this post is about Star Wars. But I'm going to start with a quote from Harry Potter, because it's exactly how I feel about my relationship with fictitious worlds.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

I love stories. No, love isn't really a strong enough word. I live for stories. I read them, I write them, I ponder them, I write about them. Constantly. I studied literature in college; I write novels and aspire to be a published author. And I firmly believe in the power of stories, far beyond mere entertainment value (although let's not diminish the importance of needing simple entertainment as a break from the rigors of life). I believe that stories can resonate with us in a deep, even essential way. I believe in catharsis. I believe that a good story, well-told, can make life better. The things that happen in stories might not be literally real, but their effect on us is absolutely real. Fictitious is not a synonym for frivolous.

Obviously this can be taken too far. I know that my obsession with Star Wars isn't an unequivocally positive trait. There is more to life than one story about a bunch of space adventures, and sometimes when I've fallen really deep into fangirling, I can lose sight of that. It must not supercede the truly important things in life, like my family. So moderation is essential. But I won't apologize for loving Star Wars as much as I do, for finding great meaning and inspiration in its story. It's not real, and yet for me, it is real. What it does for me is real.

Now we come to the current issue, with the release of another Disney Space Movie. Another movie that carries the Star Wars label that I don't agree with. For the average movie-goer, it's hardly an issue. Either you enjoy the movie or you don't, and you move on with your life. For me, it's like a full-blown existential crisis.

I haven't seen the new one, nor do I intend to. I saw the first one with great reluctance, and it was a miserable experience for me. So I'm not going to pay to have another miserable experience. Still, even without willingly immersing myself in a theater, it's everywhere. And darn it all if I don't take it personally.

I'm not George Lucas. I don't own Star Wars; I never have; I had nothing to do with its creation. I know this. But whenever I engage with a story, in a certain sense I make it my own. I think we all do that. We have our individual experience, our specific interpretation, and we feel this sort of ownership with it. Much more so if we had a particularly powerful reaction to it. So even though it's not really mine, it feels like it is. It's inside my head, but it's still real.

I love the original trilogy. This is not a controversial opinion. When I say I love the prequels without apology, that raises a few eyebrows. But loving the originals -- most people do, right? And I assumed that most people shared my general assessment of it, if not every individual interpretation: a band of unlikely heroes, growing and maturing, becoming better people and gaining a hard-earned victory over evil; not because they're physically more powerful, but because they're good. Compassionate, striving to be selfless, optimistic. The ending of Return of the Jedi is a moment of such pure, unalloyed hope and joy.

So why does anyone enjoy a movie that makes all of that a giant lie? That turns it into a pointless waste, because the characters are going to regress and become the worst versions of themselves as if they learned nothing at all? I know, I know, Luke Skywalker isn't real. But when I see him portrayed as a failure, a cynical, bitter old man...it's like a punch in the stomach. When I see Han and Leia's marriage torn up as if they never got past their bickering -- completely ignoring the growth they demonstrated in Return of the Jedi -- I just don't want to have anything to do with it. I can't get past it, and I don't want to. These are not the characters I love.

I have other issues with the new movie (I haven't bothered avoiding spoilers). I despise the idea that a relationship that started off with forcible abduction and torture is supposed to be romantic now, and it's a pale, pale, shadow of Luke's unconditional love for his father. And it sounds like the film was overstuffed with too many subplots, so none of them really got developed properly. Leia's Force abilities are waaay too little, too late, just reminding us all what a tragedy it is that she won't appear in the final film. And sure, they got rid of some of the really stupid stuff from Episode VII like Snoke and Phasma and Rey's gimmicky mysterrrrrrious parentage, but it would have been far better if it hadn't existed to begin with; now it's just uneven storytelling, with way too many cooks using conflicting recipes. I'm really missing Lucas's consistent tone.

This "burn it all down and start from scratch" attitude is infuriating, because if I wanted a story that had nothing to do with the old stuff, I'd watch something OTHER THAN STAR WARS. Actually, I've said before that I'd happily watch a trilogy set a thousand years in the future, when the original trio are distant figures of legend. Instead, they seem to think that creating a new story first requires that we tear down all the old heroes and show how they were all wrong, wrong, wrong. That sounds a lot like what young people think when they first start realizing that the older generation is flawed and doesn't know everything. Sure, you have new things to offer, and you don't have to blindly follow all the old traditions, but that doesn't mean your elders have nothing to offer you at all!

Don't get me wrong; I love paradigm shifts. That's what I've always loved about Star Wars. It forces you to change your perspective and see things from a completely different viewpoint. That's what the prequels do, in so many ways. But it makes re-watching the original trilogy more enjoyable, not less! It feels more meaningful to watch the children of Anakin and Padmé bring down the Empire and save their father. These new films, on the other hand, make it a futile quest that will end in worse tragedy. The galaxy might have been better off if they had just been crushed in the garbage compactor on the first Death Star. What a nihilistic mess.

I thought it was perfectly plain that Luke would start a new Jedi Order informed by the knowledge of his elders and guided by his own newly-gained wisdom, preventing the sort of disaster that happened before. Apparently that was just my interpretation, and a lot of people had no faith in Luke whatsoever. That he would just blindly do whatever the old Jedi did and refuse to imagine a new way?? HE FOUND THE NEW WAY HIMSELF! HE WAS THE ONE WHO FORGED THAT PATH IN RETURN OF THE JEDI. OBVIOUSLY HE IS CAPABLE OF LEARNING FROM HIS PREDECESSORS' MISTAKES BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HE DID TO DEFEAT THE EMPEROR AND SAVE ANAKIN. Ahem. I just...ugh. I can't. Rey would be a fine character if she wasn't deliberately set up to show what a MESS Luke is. That, to me, is the true definition of a Mary Sue. It's not that she's a powerful female character; I'm all for that. But they make her powerful by showing how superior she is to the failing failure of Luke who failed them all. Why? Are we going to see another trilogy thirty years from now about a cynical bitter old Rey who failed as well? Because how dare we have faith in anyone, especially a fictional character who has inspired countless fans for decades. How very naïve of all of us.

I can't take that kind of cynicism. People might call me unrealistic, delusional. But stories, for me, have never been about realism. It's not about plausibility; it's about resonance. The joyous ending of Return of the Jedi resonated with me. I'm not going to give that up. Neither interpretation of Luke Skywalker's character is technically real, I know. But in my own head, it's as real as anything I've ever known, and I will never let that be taken from me.