I had a look at Star Wars as a kid. It was not in a proper condition, dirty. It was absurd, reckless. It was completely the stable, clean, exhausting Star Trek was not.
It was… probably even cyberpunk. It took the stage in history but experienced like the future. It was enigmatic and tech together. It was a mystery.
That is what got me in, made me wonder. Now it is my recollections of the history and the desires of what could be… it is a procedure of endless expectation as compared to the reality.
Star Wars has permanently been of concern to me: enough for me to fiddle John Williams’ soundtracks continuously on my phone, but not completely to keep up with the unending comics and games and novels. I never needed an Extended Star Wars Universe.
I just needed a few iconic, special movies. I have been lucky enough to acquire them, more than I had ever have thought of.
Star Wars is one more constellation of things in the matter verse.
My family, although, does not care much regarding Star Wars. My kids do not need to see old Star Wars films with me or The Mandalorian. I was the prime one who needed to go to Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge (we did Universal’s Harry Potter, which was amazing, too).
Marvel is my kids’ Star Wars. Harry Potter is my kids’ Star Wars. Star Wars, for them, is a quite like James Bond: It is dad’s old stuff.
My tries to get my kids along for the Star Wars fan ride turned out like Luke’s warning in The Last Jedi: “This is not going to move the way you observe.”
If Force Awakens was an enigmatic reboot/echo and The Last Jedi was a meta-mystical cynical comeback, The Rise of Skywalker should provide as The Return of the King, The Return of the Jedi, the triumphal restoration, the ultimate piece in a generational crystal lattice tic-tac-toe board transpiring the ’80s, the ’00s and today.
