MANILA, Philippines - As we feel the excitement build over the release of Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, it is equally hard to ignore the trepidation surrounding it, especially for those who have fashioned each installment in the Star Wars franchise into totem poles of their lives, marking childhood, adolescence and adulthood with the finer details of the Galactic Republic (which, at some point, became an Empire), as if the meaning of existence somehow rests on Yoda’s inverted sentences and on the cryptic chirpings of R2-D2. But Star Wars geeks and casual viewers alike have really very little to worry about. Between questions on J.J. Abrams’ trustworthiness, or Luke Skywalker’s role in the sequel trilogy, or if there’s a new Jar Jar Binks to ruin everyone’s lives, these matters will soon be moot. Whatever happens, The Force Awakens will be fine.
Star Wars is no longer a movie franchise. It’s a religion.
Star Wars movies are the closest to critic-proof cinema as we’ll ever see in Hollywood. This is not to say that The Force Awakens will not be panned. Unless it turns out to be the greatest space opera of our times, it will definitely get its fair share of bad reviews. It’s whether these bad reviews will matter in the long run that I seriously doubt.
Think about where all this excitement is coming from. As far as I can remember, the prequel trilogy had a mixed reception and was barely salvaged by Episode III: Revenge of The Sith, which was mildly praised for its inevitably dark plot and the conspicuous scarcity of the aforementioned Jar Jar Binks (people really hated that thing). The last movie from the original trilogy, Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, is widely considered an inferior finale. I find it unlikely that the excitement over The Force Awakens comes solely from Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, unanimously considered as the best Star Wars movie, but one that came out in 1980.
Geeks forgive
A better explanation is this: Star Wars geeks forget about the things they hate about Star Wars the minute a new movie comes out. Their little complaints don’t really matter as much as the existence of the franchise itself, which is always inevitably successful in that it always inspires unconditional obsession. No other movie franchise can set off a dozen think pieces and infinite Reddit threads just by releasing a 90-second teaser trailer. And no other movie franchise can captivate the same fan base it repeatedly frustrates. There is only one god and his name is George Lucas. The rest are just details.
Given the decades-long money-making power of Star Wars, this sequel trilogy was perhaps inevitable. It also seemed destined, especially with Disney taking over the franchise, to finally have a holiday release. The Force Awakens is the first Star Wars movie to premiere in December, a move that seems long overdue, since the franchise has always been a lot like Christmas: a timeless state of mind where we are always children. Light sabers, the Millennium Falcon, the Luke Skywalker theme music — these are all trappings of youth, like mistletoes and carolers. They were always meant for children and to remind adults that they still are.
Complete surrender
Star Wars has an inherent unassailability because it was meant to be consumed the way children consume anything — in complete surrender to the spectacle. As Disney would have you believe, the sequel trilogy is as much for present-day children as it is for overgrown ones. This is pretty obvious from a sales standpoint since children are the ones who would buy most of the merchandise and have a lifetime to establish an affinity that would hopefully translate into vast collections. But Disney and its filmmakers have a less cynical way of justifying the existence of a new trilogy. The goal, they claim, is to inspire children.
In a Disney press release, Colin Trevorrow, director of Jurassic World and the man tasked to helm Star Wars Episode IX, describes the motivation as such: “We’ve been charged with telling new stories for a younger generation because they deserve what we all had — a mythology to call their own. We will do this by channeling something George Lucas instilled in all of us: boundless creativity, pure invention and hope.”
It sounds moving and all but children today already have a mythology to call their own and it’s called Guardians of the Galaxy (and Groot is their Chewbacca). It had everything that the original Star Wars movies had: humor, fun, loveable aliens, breathtaking set pieces, and a loser-y hero everyone could root for. What Trevorrow probably means is that he wants to rehash his generation’s mythology for the new one, to stimulate their imagination but within the bounds of a universe that has already been explored six different times. That doesn’t sound like giving children “boundless creativity” and “pure invention.” It sounds like an attempt to relive one’s youth in the eyes of children.
He did get one thing right, though, and that is “hope.” But it is a hope for an older generation, hope that the Star Wars universe will continue to expand, that there will be a boundless supply of toys and collectibles to desire, that their youth will never be over as long as the Jedi lives and the threat of the Dark Side persists. Yes, we’re all doing this for the children. But they’re all grownups now.
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