Dad came home from work with a birthday cake. It was my eighth birthday and I was excited about the small family party to come in a couple of hours; presents were sure to come, and now the cake was a certainty. And that was all I cared about.
But then, without saying a word, dad went back outside. Is he leaving? Won’t he be there for my birthday? Oh look, mom is taking my cake out of the box! Chocolate. Nice. Before my childish attention span had the chance to move on, dad came back through the front door, holding… A VCR!!! Wow! I get to watch a movie while eating cake and playing with my presents! Wait… did he also rent any movies?
In the post Islamic revolution Iran, VCRs and most movies were strictly forbidden. However, there sprang an underground network of movie and VCR rental shops; part of the Iranian people’s resistance to the oppressive fundamentalist regime’s wish to stifle all signs of life from a once vibrant culture. Same things happened with wine and music and other sudden taboos, but those were of no concern to me.
Dad put the chunky Sony Betamax VCR down near the TV and stretched his back. He then turned and handed me a small video cassette. “Here, this is apparently all the rage these days.” Written in bold black carefully written letters were the words…
Star Wars.
Seeing Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope, I later found out) as a child made such an impact on me that, nearly 40 years later, OI still recall the details of that experience. I spoke no English at the time, but I still managed to cobble together most of the storyline just by swimming in and absorbing every last drop of that magical trip. It was all I talked about for days. Dad had to constantly remind me about the illegality of the VCR and the movie and sternly telling me to quit blabbing on about it.
But even then, he couldn’t help but smile at my overwhelming joy.
I mention all this because the latest movie in that storied franchise has just hit the silver screens; the final episode in “The Skywalker Saga”, apparently.
And I couldn’t care less.
It just isn’t that special anymore. Not to me, anyway. A few years back, Disney bought the franchise and started what I like to call ‘Marvelizing’ it; cranking out movie after movie as quickly as possible with the aim of making as much money as quickly as possible. Ironically, Disney now own Marvel, too.
It was years after my eighth birthday before I saw the Star Wars sequels, while living in Tanzania where renting movies and owning VCRs (VHS, sadly) was perfectly legal and the only entertainment for a teenager. I didn’t even know there were sequels until then, which explains why I watched “Return Of The Jedi” before “The Empire Strikes Back”!
And that’s the whole point. I waited. I was pleasantly surprised. I was rewarded with great experiences, specially since I now spoke English and could follow the story properly. And I was saddened when it was all over. That rollercoaster of emotions has no chance of reaching the top if Star Wars movies come at us one after another as if fired from a Hollywood Gatling gun. The books and comics that expanded the Star Wars universe and filled the gaps in between the movies and kept us all entertained no longer matter. Add to that the fact that mass production hurts quality, and you have exhausted and disappointed fans; middle aged people like myself, whose magical childhood experience has become their only connection to their beloved characters and quotable lines of dialogue. What are we to do? Where can we point our childish glee?
Is Star Trek still a thing?