The Miraculous Manu Memorial Movie Month, Mmmmm!

Star Wars (1977)

Musical Accompaniment: DJ Z-Trip & DJ P — Track 13 (It's a blank title)

I made the mistake of telling Darth Legos (via Skype — text, he doesn't like voice chat) that I was going to be watching Star Wars for the first time on July 30th.

"You've never seen Star Wars™?! Oh boy, you are in for a RIDE! Prepare to engage in the greatest movie of all time!" he replied back.

"thanks dude"

"Wait, you gotta watch the one that's called Episode IV first. That's actually the first one."

"why would i watch episode 4 first, that's fucked up, i wanna start at the start," I replied. I did already know the whole prequels thing, but I'm a jerk. Or maybe I'm the nicest man ever, giving him the perfect chance to satisfy himself by unloading all of his complicated prequel opinions on the ever-rarer downright-mythical virgin Star Wars viewer. He liked it, I could tell.

"First of all, as if experiencing something in the true chronological order wasn’t of paramount importance,” he began, without finishing the sentence, really.
“That’s the way they experienced them back in the day, and that in my marathon-honed opinion is the only true way to go about it now, outside of the realm of experimental viewings. Trust me, your life will be enriched if you do this the right way, while deviation can lead to nothing but baleful unappreciation.
Second of all, I hope you’re mentally prepared for the media-whiplash of a lifetime. If you end up caring about Star Wars™ even one tenth as much as you really ought to, that prequel trilogy will screw your brain up in about nine different ways, and I’ll bet my last Tatooinian druggat you’d be cursing George Walton Lucas Jr. with one breath, praising him in the next, and asking your childhood to show you on the doll where he touched it with the third, but at the end of the day, trust me, it’ll be worth it."

"okay dude, okay!" I said at the conclusion, or what I made the conclusion. "i'll watch episode 4 first. should i have watched the godfather part III before I too?"

"I've never seen The Godfather," said he, "I'll have to get back to you on that."

That was a little over two weeks ago. Today, I woke up and immediately began my movie-watching ritual: popcorn, coffee, and some era-appropriate music. But in the middle of a full-body disco workout, replete with thumb gestures, in sync to the irresistible musical concoction that is Heatwave's 1977 hit "Grooveline," my door swung open.

Uninvited, Darth Legos had taken it upon himself, that very day after our conversation apparently, to take a trip to my house and accompany me on my quote-unquote "maiden voyage into the galactic epic of Wars in the Stars." (Sounds more exciting than Dancing with them, at least.) He was wearing a too-large Darth Vader mask and he wouldn't take it off for any reason.

"July the 30th be with you! What edition are you gonna use?"

"Edition," said I, in upper-case now because I'm actually speaking.

"Like... the laserdisc one is pretty good!"

"Laserdisc?" I laughed. "How the fuck would I have a Laserdisc player? You've been hanging around Walter's too much. I was just gonna use my dad's old VHS —"

"NNNNOO!" Darth Legos howled, ripping the VHS tape from my hand and then tearing the magnetic tape out with his fingers and teeth, lifting up the mask a little to do so even.

"What the fuck, dude!?"

"This... this is why you need me, see?" he said, panting. "You poor, lost soul." He curbstomped the tape up against a wall. "Here," he said, "We'll watch it on my computer." He whipped it out. It was both sticky and covered with stickers — probably a Dell, that just feels right for some reason, but you couldn't tell for the sticker of Lego Darth Vader's helmet covering the logo. "Like my casemod?" He didn't wait for my answer. "We're gonna watch Harmy's Despecialized Edition! You can watch all the other versions later, but watch this one first. All the quality of blu-ray, all the low-fi special effects of the original 35mm! And rest assured: Han shoots first."

"Who's Han? The camera guy?" Again, I knew, but I'm a jerk. As the movie began to roll immediately after this comment, his eyes were not fixated on the text scroll, but on me, with a mixture of contempt and awe.

I don't really like watching movies with friends, because I often end up focused more on their reactions than the film, and this was never more true than shoulder-to-shoulder with Darth Legos, who was lipsyncing along to every line, rocking back and forth, and vibrating with excitement at the first appearances of characters like Vader and Han Solo.

"So," I recall asking somewhere during the first fifteen minutes of the movie, "It's a whole film franchise about these two gay robots?"

"They're not gay!" he said. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they're not gay. They're robots, they can't be. And they're not robots, they're droids."

"...Not gay, more like bot gay," I said.

"They're just friends."

Then there was blessed silence from him, broken up only by a brief sequence of mimed choking noises, for around 30 minutes more until the cantina. "That's Chewbacca!" he said. "Like you!"

"Like me? I shaved today."

"No, Chewbacca, like your name sounds! Chwakka!"

"It's not PRONOUNCED LIKE THAT!" I put my fist through an empty fish tank and roared.

"Wow, that's a really good impersonation!"

"SHUT UP! HARD 'O'! HARD 'O'!"

For the next 15 minutes I sobbed in the bathroom, wrapping my bloody fist in ACE™ bandages. I came back just in time for Obi-Wan to say "that's no moon."

"You didn't pause it?" I said.

"You don't pause Star Wars, MOM!" he said. "I mean, Chw... Chw... Will."

I sighed. "Well, what did I miss?"

"They got Han Solo to take them to Alderaan, but by then Lord Vader had had it obliterated with the Death Star’s Concave Dish Composite Beam Superlaser."

"Could we rewind?"

"No. We must proceed chronologically not only through the series, but the movie itself. You're supposed to like movies, surely you understand the value of experiencing it in the linear time it was meant to be experienced in."

"We're not doing the whole series, I have work in a couple hours."

"...Tomorrow?"'

"I'm watching Drive tomorrow."

"Then how about the next day?"

"You're not crashing at my place for two days," I said.

Then, a tenser silence through the infiltration sequence, which was legitimately gripping without the interruptions. It was me who broke it, this time: "So, this Han Solo guy, they really put the cameraman in the film?" I'm a real jerk.

"No, no! That's Harrison Ford!"

"Who?"

"Indiana Jones!"

"Never seen those either."

"Were you ever a kid?!"

I shook my head.

"Blade Runner?"

"Oh, yeah, that was a great movie! Better than this one. So far."

Silence.

"Hey, he was in The Conversation too!"

He began to cry. But in all fairness, that was probably because Obi-Wan died.

"Those helmets, they're kinda like the ones in Spaceballs, aren't they?"

"You've seen that wretched garbage, but not Star Wars™?"

"Yeah, most of it. Comedy Central reruns were on a lot in my house. You know, a lot about this movie reminds me of Spaceballs, actually."

"That's because Spaceballs was a parody — and I hesitate to defile the word by associating it with that mangled, mirthless horrorshow of a movie! If you want a lighter take on the Star Wars™ mythos, next time I highly recommend the various installments of LEGO™ Star Wars™."

"Would you? I'll take that into consideration then."

Finally, the credits came up: "Written and Directed by GEORGE LUCAS."

"There an after-the-credits sequence?"

"No," he said. "So, what did you think!?" the childlike enthusiasm that I had managed to steadily deplete came rushing back in one instant.

"I don't really like to rank movies, you know, pit 'em against each other like they're gladiators."

"The only thing you can pit it against are the other Star Wars movies!"

"I mean, it was good, I mean, but like all the movies on my list are. It can't be compared to, like, Apocalypse Now, Discreet Charm, you know, the real grand, aspirational masterpieces, but it was a fun little action adventure movie, you know? Don't see why it inspires the devotion it does, though."

He just stared at me.

"You wanna stay for dinner? I've got a great taco recipe."

"No! No I do NOT wish to remain in this household for your heathen 'tacos!' I never thought I would have a bad time watching Star Wars™, but here we are! You are the living end, William J. Chwakka."

"IT'S PRONOUNCED 'CHWOKA!'" I screamed, throwing his laptop at him. "HARD 'O'! AND YOU SAY TACO WEIRD TOO! 'Tay-co,' 'tay-co,' 'tay-co,' HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD THAT WORD IN YOUR LIFE! GET OUT!"

I looked in his eyes as he slowly gathered his things and began to walk backwards. The telltale whirring of the air conditioner that had been our constant companion during the silent stretches of the stop-and-start conversation suddenly stopped.

"Oh, great!" I said. "You hear that? Now the air conditioner's out too. And tomorrow's supposed to be the hottest day of the year! 106 degrees, Fahrenheit! Might as well measure it in Kelvin! And it's all your fault!"

"My fault? MY fault? That air conditioner abandoned you, because it found your lack of faith disturbing. It wants you to bake like on the deserts of Tatooine." He opened the door. "Good riddance, and may the force NOT be with you." He went through the door and slammed it behind him, then opened it again and peeked through. "You've made a mortal enemy today!" He slammed it again.

What a jerk.

Special thanks to Lt. Fish for use of Darth Legos and some of the dialogue.