“I still couldn’t take anything in that movie seriously, which robbed most of the film of its dramatic urgency and potency. As a result, I was incredibly bored by the film. Even the lightsaber duel failed to grab my attention.” – Warren Zhang
My childhood was largely devoid of Star Wars. Outside of a dimly remembered animated jaunt with R2-D2 and that tin man thing, I made it to middle school without meeting Darth Vader.
But then, on a miserable field trip, one of my classmates brought a VHS copy of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. The teacher agreed to pop it into the bus TV, and soon Luke Skywalker regaled us with his adventures in a galaxy far, far away.
At that point, I vaguely knew Star Wars was a big deal, but I wasn’t that engaged in the film. The combination of tiny bus screens and static-y tape robbed the space opera of all its grandeur. On a tiny screen, Star Wars looked and felt like an unusually well-scored high school play.
Fast-forward to sophomore year of high school, when I found myself in virtually the same conditions. We were on a bus returning from an extended field trip and had already blown through some Disney tapes when Star Wars came up.
I was again bored by the dramatics. A trusted friend, however, urged me to watch the film not on a crappy bus VHS player. I acquired Star Wars: Episode IV as soon as I got home and watched that iconic opening crawl.
“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …”
I can’t tell you precisely when I fell asleep, but I vaguely remember that old dude saying something about Luke Skywalker’s dad.
I still couldn’t take anything in that movie seriously, which robbed most of the film of its dramatic urgency and potency. As a result, I was incredibly bored by the film. Even the lightsaber duel failed to grab my attention.
When I got back to school the next day, my friend excitedly asked me if I had watched it. I told him I kind of hated it. We are no longer friends.
Understand this: I don’t say I dislike Star Wars proudly. I don’t derive any sort of satisfaction from putting down George Lucas’s insanely popular space adventure. Heck, I even respect a lot of Star Wars’ technical and artistic merits.
I felt and still feel somewhat left out for not being part of Star Wars, for not really laughing at all the “Luke, I am your father” jokes, for not being particularly interested in Star Wars: Episode VII casting news.
Star Wars is one of the biggest cinematic and cultural phenomena ever, to the point that even its almost universally despised prequel trilogy still gets referenced and alluded to on a frequent basis. I wanted in.
When I opened up a high definition version of Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope sophomore year of college, I didn’t enter with an open mind; I was really biased in favor of the movie. And yet I felt nothing.
Luke Skywalker still looked like a ponce in his space jammies. Each of Star Wars’ bloated 121 minutes dragged. I simply wasn’t enthralled by the epic universe-building and mythology. I couldn’t suspend my disbelief of the dated effects and weak stabs at broad humor.
Star Wars is and (probably) forever will be not my cup of tea. I wish it was, but I’ve learned to live without Wookiees. Be with the force or something.
