The Storm Trooper Made Me Cry

Last night, Mustacho and I attended the reception and preview portion of the San Francisco International Film Festival. Munching on the empanada like wonders from Thirsty Bear, the red wine of the free bar, the soft chocolate wonder of Double Rainbow, I eventually headed down the windy haunts of Presidio Boulevard and into Lucasfilms. 

I couldn't stop it. You know what. "Da-dum. Da da da daaaaah-dum, Da da da daaaaaah- dum, da da da Dum."

John Williams's classic score. My hands were thumping invisible drums and I felt like I was seven. Three. Nine. Young. I was beating the theme with an invisible orchestra around me and I could hear the tinkle of the bell (you hear it?). Da-da dum. da da da dum! Yoda sat atop a fountain of water adding to the symphony and nodding in time to my beat.

We walked in, Mustacho signed on the dotted line and we waited for the screening. I took a seat while he went to say hello to replicas and prop doubles of Boba Fett and Vader. I tried to distract my eyes with the small rectangles of glass arching above us. Zone my ears on the conversations of the crowd. But my eyes kept going to it. I was surrounded by life sabers. Star Wars paperbacks. Books on mythology.

Chewie.

And that's when I let my eyes rest and a wash came over my ears. I was alone, far from the onlookers and film enthusiasts. It was just him and me. The white glisten of that Storm Trooper's head. And I actually felt it. Welling up. At the sight of a Storm Trooper and the life saber beside him.

 The eerie part of the theme song began - you know, when you're descending into the galaxy towards Tatooine and the adventure (life) ahead.

I wonder how many in my generation, fed on the foundation of Star Wars and its mythical tale, would react the same way surrounded by nothing more than memorabilia. Promotion.

Dreams.

Dreams on the screen right?

And do they make a difference?

Well, after that I blotted my eyes and found myself lost in vignettes from the stories to come at the festival. Stories of truth and fiction and everything in between (the Leah theme plays now in my head), and it moved my senses. Even to think of the epic battles that went into any of those productions - the struggle to tell a story, to share a truth, to have a voice - moved me. But the images and tales on the screen, standing alone without their creators, still did the same. And none of them said Lucas (even if, cross our fingers, he was careening about those halls somewhere). None of them even said Hollywood or promised recognition or the end of the line. Or came with John Williams's score.

But they each had the same capacity as that Storm Trooper and the film epic built around it - where we stood - to bring life to art and move us in ways that can only be articulated through artistry. Beyond the screen (or the page for some of us), and leaping into and communicating something within us.

And I left with the thunderous orchestra cheering them on. 

Comments

[gavin]

AWESOME!love the vader pic...and that poor headless Stormtrooper is quiet sad...casualty of a war he probably wanted nothing to do with...was just trying to earn some space-dollars, maybe get a space-scholarship so he could finish art school...next thing he know's some farm boy is swinging a glow-stick at his head....war is ugly.