Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Of Hopes

Buried deep in my heart of hearts is a brief list of hopes and dreams.

Many of them are Star Wars-related. Here are some of them.

I hope that they find someone new to choreograph the lightsaber duels, because they have been plainly amateur of late.

I hope that they do not shy away from characters with the complexity we saw in the original films; we all want to be Luke, but we know that Han is the most interesting one.

I hope that the right people understand that puppetry is charming and timeless, that CG is icy and inhuman.

I hope that this movie, whether I like it or not, will ignite a generation as its forbears did.

I hope that the least possible amount of acknowledgment is given to the prequels, because they were aggressive and destructive to a dream that underpinned my entire childhood. We want to think that somewhere out there, injustice will be righted by a robed caste of warrior-monk space-witches, that adventure comes to every backwater. We want to believe that someday, if we wish hard enough, that we can be whoever we want. We say that this is Luke or Han or Boba Fett, and the exemplary wonks among us may long to wake up and find that they've been thrust into the body of Kyle Katarn or Kit Fisto; but if I am being honest, I must admit that I think it's far more likely that I'd be a washout TIE-fighter pilot, or a glitterstim addict, or a barely-sensitive would-be padawan, or a nameless stormtrooper, taking his helmet off the exact moment that Moff Tarkin's eyes, perched on his immaculately chiseled cheekbones, gazed upon Yavin IV for the last time.

We all want to believe in a better world.

I approach the promise of episode VII with renewed buoyancy.

That's all for now.

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