The Force Done Woke Up: 9 Thoughts On 'The Force Awakens'

Am I qualified to write on this topic…? Probably not. It’s not like you can get a doctorate in Star Wars Studies—but then again…maybe you can. I’m sure there’s a whole section of the population who would qualify as PhDs in Star Wars based on the depth and breadth of their knowledge regarding that galaxy far, far away—but I am not one of those people. I’m a much more casual fan—but I am, however, of the generation who actually saw an original Star Wars movie in the theaters.  The memory is fuzzy, of course, cuz I was four--but my uncle definitely took my sister and me to see Return of the Jedi in an old-school theater downtown—the kind with short white columns under a dramatic marquee with those removable letters that Wendy's now uses to advertise its "Baconator" as you cruise past on the way to an interstate rest area. That theater later became a Gap, then went on to house a Sunglass Hut and the stairwell to a rooftop brewery--but I'll always remember it as the place I saw Star Wars. I don’t remember a ton about the movie itself—but I did see it! Some time afterward, I remember going to a birthday party for a friend who had brothers and seeing all the bad-ass action figures and playsets (back when people were actually still playing with them, instead of building shrines to them in their original packaging) and wishing they made that kinda cool shit for Barbie. And I remember people standing in line to see the re-release my senior year in high school. I didn’t partake. But I remember being pretty intrigued about why all those poor bastards were so excited.

I went on to marry a man in software—a field where I don’t think they’ll even hire you unless you profess to own at least one piece of Star Wars memorabilia with which to decorate your cube and have authored a well-defended position paper for or against 'The Prequels'. Our two subsequent sons were gradually introduced to each movie in the Star Wars franchise, 15 minutes at a time if needed, to the point that I can confidently declare having seen and re-seen the entire body of work several times as a family. At least one of the two sons has been Yoda or a Storm Trooper for the past three Halloweens in a row. This year, in fact, my youngest adamantly demanded to be BB8—3 months before the character ever debuted in theaters—because we had watched the movie trailer just under a thousand times since its release…and because Ray had already purchased a miniature BB8 that he and the boys could operate using his phone. Naturally, my youngest eventually changed his mind and decided to be a Storm Trooper at the last minute—but only after mommy had spent a good handful of man hours attempting to craft a “BB8 head” from a Styrofoam floral orb, because nary a BB8 costume could yet be found in stores or the vast expanse of the internet in October 2015. And why? Because most of the world didn’t know to care yet about a character that had already become the fabric of our daily household activities and conversations.

SO. While I may not be a PhD in Star Wars, I could argue having achieved the level of Associate’s Degree through my crash courses over the past 10 years as a wife and a mother. I admit the effects lost a little luster for me in re-watching them decades after the first viewing—but I that’s only because the original films were so advanced for their time that they inspired following generations to make their effects increasingly spectacular—to such great ends that someone as uninformed as me could one day have the audacity to piss on any explosion that didn’t “look real” enough to singe my eyebrows clean off from the safety of my couch. And I admit that the dialogue was a little cheesier at times than I remembered—but the characters were still convincing and iconic—enough to make me recognize, decades later, that the Katniss Everdeens of popular culture have Leia to thank for planting the seed that a princess could also be a ball-buster who fired her own blaster while being “saved”--and that the heroine could be a hero.

Perhaps the only concrete credential I have that compels me to weigh in on The Force Awakens—is that I’ve seen it. Twice. In the theater. There is no other movie in recent history—other than the Minion movie—I can say that about. And for someone who finds herself dissecting the lyrics to the Dora And Friends theme song—playing the words back and forth in my mind until I finally call my sister who assures me that Dora is saying “todos juntos” (all together) and not “todos putos” (all bitches)—it’s refreshing to have thoughts on something that wasn’t generated by Nick Junior.

So here we go. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, now’s your chance to bail out. I'll try to be vague--but there still may be spoilers ahead.

Nine Thoughts On The Force Awakens

Rey is a Star Wars nerd, too. Just like the generations of people who immersed themselves in the movies, minutia, and memorabilia, Rey spends her days sifting through the carcass of the Lucas legacy (that some would argue the prequels laid waste to). She knows how to use the Force without ever being trained and we believe it—because don’t we all know how to use the Force? Just like us, she knows the story, she’s familiar with the fairytale. So when she uses Jedi mind tricks to get freed by a storm trooper, throwing in “and you will drop your weapon” as he leaves—anyone who ever tried to mind-trick a sibling into relinquishing the last piece of pizza or a parent into overlooking them in the search for someone to take out the trash--raised their fists in victory. Right on, sister. Use the hell outta that Force. We’ve been wanting to for years.

Daisy Ridley is Evangeline Lily if you squint. I’m pretty sure no one knew Evangeline Lilly from their own ass before J.J. Abrams catapulted her all the way from somewhere in Canada to that spooky island of Lost fame—but she was awesome and may now forever be known as “Kate from Lost” for the rest of her existence. When casting Rey, I imagine J.J. Abrams being like… “Can I use Evangeline Lilly for this? No? Too soon? Ok.” Lucky for him, there was another unknown brunette out there, who was pretty—but not too dainty to be a bad-ass; thin—but not gross; a good actress—but almost completely unrecognizable from anything bigger than maybe a high school talent show. If that’s J.J.'s formula—it ain’t broke, so don’t fix it. Daisy Ridley may never get to work as anyone else but Rey after this—but then again, she may never have to work again after this and all its proposed sequels.

Adam Driver is my new Steve Carrell. This may seem like an unlikely comparison, so let me explain. I was really slow to like The Office. I was a really resistant convert to its awkward brand of humor and to Steve Carrell’s excruciatingly inappropriate Michael Scott. Ray would be shaking the foundation of our house with sudden outbursts of uproarious guffaws—while I cringed and looked away, an ulcer slowly forming in my gut from the stress of watching these ridiculous situations. But then somewhere along the line—I got it. I un-clenched a bit and it became funny. Then I saw Steve Carrell in Little Miss Sunshine and was completely floored by how incredible he was. I realized he had totally convinced me he was Michael Scott—until he totally convinced me he was somebody else. It’s much the same with Adam Driver. When I first got to know him in Girls, I was totally repulsed. He was weird, socially awkward, inconsiderate, and worthlessly unemployed in a lazy starving-artist kind of way. And then they developed his character into someone who’s all of those things but still inexplicably endearing. All the while, I believed that Adam Driver was that guy. Again, he had me totally convinced—until I saw him as Kylo Ren and I realized he’s just fan-f&*%ing-tastic. So basically, Adam Driver is my new Steve Carrell. Either one of them can play the awkward office manager, the lazy weirdo, the Sith lord, or Peppa Effing Pig. I will watch that in a heartbeat.

John Boyega is Sidney Poitier if you squint. It’s maybe more accurate to say he could be Sidney Poitier’s great grandson—cuz he’s not a carbon copy by any means. But there’s still something familiar about him, in that benignly attractive and innocent way that doesn’t frighten resistant white people from embracing diversity in a cast, where—let’s face it—it never made sense to be so vanilla. You mean to tell me that Lando Calrissian is the only person of color in a galaxy that was otherwise diverse enough to include the likes of Jabba the Hut, a gelatinous slug-terd, and Bib Fortuna, whose hair was a skin-colored elephant trunk that wrapped around his neck like an albino boa constrictor? C’mon. But I digress. Loose Poitier comparisons aside, John Boyega does a great job playing naïve and conflicted in a way that doesn’t come off whiny and brat-like as Luke did for me when I re-watched the original trilogy. Even wise old Yoda wishes he could be like, “Impatient little bastard, you are. Give you something to whine about, I should.” Boyega’s Finn is none of that. He lies—and isn’t good at it—but everybody still wants to like him anyway.

Poe’s parental love triangle? On the one hand, you’re compelled to speculate about who Rey’s parents are, that the Force could be so strong with this one. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure that X-wing fighter pilot Poe Dameron is somehow the miracle baby of Lando Calrissian and Rocky Balboa—with his Billy Dee swagger and Stallone face, all wrapped up in a pint-size Oscar Isaac frame that could fit easily in your pocket. There’s also some wry Solo-esque wise-assery to Poe’s character that makes me think we might need to call in Maury Povich for an honest read on his lineage. I’m sure Han got around, so who knows? But regardless of whether Poe's personality is inherited or coincidental—we realize later in the movie it’ll be nice to have someone else around to deliver the Han humor in the films to follow… cuz…well… you know.

Luke is the idiot brother. Luke was kinda the hero of the first films—or at least he was supposed to be. Like I said before, I found him kinda whiny, kinda worthless compared to kick-ass characters like Han and Leia. So when Leia shakes her head and says she never should’ve sent her son off to learn the ways of the Force from Luke, it’s like she’s agreeing with me that he’s a total loser. If you want something done right, do it yourself—right, Leia? I imagine Luke diving into a vat of red wine after the Jedi are defeated, then sulking off to his nowhere island to “find himself”, whittling Luke action figures out of driftwood and playing bad blues ballads on a theremin he fashioned from his light saber. I envision Leia sending him her son as a last-ditch effort to get Luke back on the wagon. C’mon, Luke. Just spend a little time with your nephew. Swing the light saber around, teach him the Force. It’ll be good for you. But naturally, Luke blows it and Leia’s sweet little Ben becomes Kylo Ren. Way to go, bro. Nicely done. I can only imagine how that revelation went over during dinner at the Solo-Organa house.

Han's "Dad Voice". When Han Solo sees his son for the first time since his evil transformation to Kylo Ren, Han screams out, “BEN!!!” to Kylo as he stomps across one those creepy catwalks every Dark Side vessel seems to have--because safety rails are apparently for pussies. Every parent in the universe has delivered their kid’s name in that manner--as both a warning and an expletive—like when they make a break for it in a busy parking lot, decorate the walls with permanent marker, back the mini-van into the garage door—or…seek to commit patricide on a creepy catwalk. All those fans who were starry-eyed kids when the movies first came out are now grown-ass people with kids who are doing stupid shit all the time (minus the patricide, hopefully). We are all well-practiced in the dad (or mom) voice—and can definitely relate to the hope that our little asshole might still turn it around and go back to that sweet little person we once knew. Here’s hoping, Han. But it doesn’t look good.

The estranged co-parents. There’s very little reality to Star Wars, but the fate of the Han-Leia relationship seems spot on. Disney may have bought the franchise—but there will be no 'happily ever after' for this intergalactic power couple. And that makes total sense. Two strong personalities like Han and Leia would’ve erupted into a catastrophically nuclear War-of-the-Roses in real life had they tried to “stay together for the kid” like regular people do. We got to see them onscreen together again, but were spared the Parent Trap cheese—and I’m good with that. R.I.P. Han-Leia. It was fun while it lasted.

The unhappy ending. In this new 'Golden Age of Television', where weekly dramas like Walking Dead and Game of Thrones are one “Red Wedding” away from decimating half the cast—we’re lucky we made it out of the New Death Star with only one major casualty. Someone lovable got "got"(as Ray likes to say) by the flesh-eating zombie that lives in every story line these days. It’s just another way this Star Wars re-boot succeeds in its effort to appeal to a new generation. We old Farty McFartersons are getting to see our icons in action again—but the franchise is telling us that not even the Force can save a character from being...well...tossed aside to up the intrigue for the sake of the story. And it was a good one. I’m sure my family and I will see it again. And again. And again. Because the Force done woke up. And we can’t get enough.

Ray and my oldest gazing at the movie poster...

...And then sprinting to the theater.