My memories of childhood are hazy, which is why that I remember this one fairly clearly is rather odd: I’m nine years old. There’s a movie out that my father is crazy to see. It’s been out for a bit, and apparently everyone is talking about so we make arrangements to go to the movies with our neighbors, who have a son my age and a daughter Tweedle Twirp’s age.
Because Tweeds has just turned six, she is deemed too young for the movie, and she is offered the opportunity to see, with some random grown-up and the other little sister, in another theater of the multiplex the movie Pete’s Dragon. They decide upon that without hesitation. The brother and I are also given a choice: Pete’s Dragon or this definitely grown-up movie called Star Wars.
The brother and I consult for a few moments, before deciding upon the obvious: Star Wars.
The movie was entrancing. I was hooked.
We didn’t wait as long to see Empire Strikes Back when it was released. Return of the Jedi I saw on the opening weekend, with friends. For these movies, I saw them early enough that the movies were fresh, exciting. No Internet could spoil the endings. The movie reviews were subtle enough not to give anything away. I remember my shock and excitement at the “big reveal” in Empire. It was brillant! Genius! Oh. My. God! (Or, rather, as I would have said back then, “It was totally bitchin’!”)
Flash forward a dozen years or so, and yes, I was the geek outside at the midnight showing of Phantom Menace. To my credit, I wasn’t the one who left the office at 11 a.m., paying good money for the movie Meet Jack Black, just to see the trailer for Phantom Menace and then leaving without seeing the movie. This should not be a surprise to anyone. I worked at Amazon.com in 1999 at a time when it was populated with hipsters and geeks (as opposed to now when it’s filled with blue shirts and khaki pants). One of my geek friends waited in line for opening day tickets, and kindly purchased one for me.
It was disappointing. I was upset. That didn’t stop me from seeing the movie again with my folks, but I was left saddened.
Attack of the Clone Wars came out a month after Adam and I were married. Despite both of us not liking Phantom, we dutifully filed in at the Cinerama for it. Eh.
Here’s a confession. Revenge of the Sith came out in 2005. Something else was happening in 2005. What was it? What was it? Hmmmm. Well, whatever it was, we never got around to seeing the final Star Wars movie. Adam actually DVR’d it a few months ago, and it sits mockingly on our TV, laughing at me every time I go to watch Dance Moms (yes, Dance Moms! See how the mighty have fallen. Get over yourself, people!).
But here we are. Dance Moms not withstanding, Adam and I responsible grown-ups with an obligation to do what’s right for our children. And the big questions these days, the weight upon every parent Gen Xer today, the albatross we must carry is: In what order do you allow your children to view “Star Wars”? Do you see them chronological order, starting with Phantom Menace and ending with Return of the Jedi? Or do you watch them in release order, starting with New Hope and ending with Revenge of the Sith?
This became of grave importance recently when in a discussion of “Star Wars,” Pie asked, “So, Darth Vader is Luke’s father?”
I responded: “You’re not supposed to know that.”
She continued: “And Queen Amidalah is Princess Leia’s mother, so Luke and Leia are brother and sister, right?”
“You’re NOT supposed to know that!” I say louder, feeling agitated.
“Mom!” said my oh-so-wise second grader. “I’ve known that since kindergarten!”
Oh my child. I am your mother. I am here to rescue you.
This past weekend, I declared that we would all be watching the “Star Wars” films. All of them. Doodles had seen Episode IV: The New Hope (for which I still get in trouble for referring to it as the first “Star Wars” film) a while ago, but I think it had been a couple of years.
Adam had previously done extensive research on the “what order to watch the films” dilemma, in anticipation for this day comes. We were in agreement that the films should be viewed in the Machete Order (IV, V, II, III, VI, and then much, much later I), although Adam thinks that we should view Episode I before Episode II, and I think we stick with the order and watch Episode I at the end.
Saturday was a rainy, stormy night. Adam brought our copy of Episode IV up from the basement. The kids curled up on the couch, and I used it as my opportunity to sew badges on Pie’s Brownie vest as I cheered on the Rebel forces.
The movie began. “You are going to love this!” I promised Pie. “Be brave like Princess Leia! Tomorrow night, we’ll watch Empire Strikes Back, and next weekend we’ll move on to the next movie!”
She buried her head in the couch for a few scenes. She watched most of it. She seemed to like it.
But then she didn’t want to go to sleep by herself. And finally, once she was down, she was up a couple of hours later. I was still awake, getting ready for bed, and she refused to leave my side, merely following me around like a little shadow.
Before I could even get her into bed, the bigger one was up. “Back into bed, Monkey,” Adam said quietly, gently leading him back to his bedroom.
“Uh uh!!” came the growl out of the half-asleep boy as he planted himself in our doorway, refusing to be carried back to his room.
I gave up. There were four in the bed and the little one said, “Star Wars is scary!”
Sunday morning, Adam bleary-eyed said to me, “I guess we’re not watching Empire Strikes Back tonight, huh?”
No, my padawan, I don’t think we shall. We’ll try again in a few more years. With luck, the Force in our children will be stronger then. May the Force be with you.
