Maddie Day
The first time I was introduced to the Star Wars Trilogy, I was probably about eight, when my dad suddenly decided that his two Barbie-the-Swan-Princess-loving daughters needed to watch a two-hour film about men shooting at each other in space. It was a well-intentioned move – he wanted to educate us on a cultural classic – but it didn’t work; all I remember of the experience is an orange desert, the face of a young Mark Hamill and being incredibly confused.
So, when my friends decided that in this third lockdown we would systematically go through every Star Wars film ever made, I did not jump for joy. Most of them had seen at least some of them before, and had enjoyed them (most of them are also men, just saying). I was reluctant at first, partly because of my previous experience with the films and also partly because I had worn the ‘Haven’t Watched Star Wars’ badge for so many years, that I stubbornly didn’t want to take it off. However, with a little bit of peer pressure, I agreed to join in on the experience.
Needless to say, the films aren’t perfect. The rampant and persistent sexism was my first issue – George Lucas, you know women exist, right? And not just for the sake of being the love interest? Okay, just checking. The second – and more important, as film criticism goes – was the fact that the writing felt incomplete with the stories sitting within this abyss of space, never quite convincing me of the integrity of their plot lines. I felt like each film was missing some essential thing, and that it was just launching you into a half-built world full of unexplained moments and an absolute refusal to do proper exposition. When we moved on to the prequels, things began to make more sense – I finally understood the importance of the Jedi council being a lost entity, the true significance of the establishment of the Empire, and why Yoda was such a revered and important figure. But why should I have to watch three extra films just to fully understand the significance of one?
However, I did end up liking them as we continued watching. There is a comforting sense of nostalgia in the dated quality of production, with the slight overacting and often laughable effects providing consistent entertainment, even through badly-written moments. Part of my enjoyment probably also came from finally being able to understand the references I had absorbed from other movies and shows from over the years. I finally saw the stormtrooper hitting its head, witnessed the infamously misremembered “I am your father” line, as well as Han Solo’s frustrating “I know”.
This cultural knowledge is, in my opinion, the most valuable thing about the films. Franchises are nothing without the communities they create, and for Star Wars, it seems that the cultural response to these mediocre films is what transforms them into lasting masterpieces. In spite of all my reservations, I began to enjoy them more and more as I discussed them with my friends. As we chatted about what happened in each film, we started to imitate the actors’ voices, hum the soundtracks and quote the lines back to each other, forming little in-jokes and references that only made sense to us. Over the week or so that we went through the films, and “Star Wars tonight?” became a frequent question in the house, one which was either met with an excited “yes!” or a disappointed “no – I have work to do”. It was this shared excitement and enthusiasm which made Star Wars more enjoyable for me, and I bet it is the same kind of energy that made them successful in the first place. Franchises like Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and the Marvel Superhero movies are not smashing box-office sales solely based on the quality of the films themselves, but also because of the communities they found as a result of their films. It’s these communities which give the films meaning and significance in our lives, the effect of them expanding beyond the films themselves; you often hear of people falling in love and having life-long friendships with other enthusiasts after meeting them at midnight viewings, going to comic-con or talking through online groups and pages. Films like Star Wars remind me of the brilliance of human connection, of shared experiences that we seem to have lost in the past year. Watching them with just a handful of friends began to restore my faith in the world, and gave me a new hope.
