Maria and I are close, we rarely argue. If we were any closer, it would probably be unhealthy. We got through divorces, panic attacks, Open Heart Surgery and bankruptcy and all of their attendant complications and decisions without a bump. But marital discord has bubbled up over the new Star Wars: The Force Awakens film, due out in theaters this week.
The movie is getting wonderful reviews, and somewhat to my surprise, I’ve cried three times just watching the trailers on IMDB. I am not a doe-eyed fan of the series, I didn’t really like any of them beyond the first one and never even saw the last few.
When I read the reviews to Maria this morning, she wrinkled her nose and said those “kinds” of movies didn’t really appeal to her, she said the mentions “myth” or “magic” didn’t move me. This irked me, as she is very much into myth and magic, it is all over her work and art.
She said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see it, I sniffed and said I would be happy to see it alone. I often see movies alone, there is nothing wrong with that.
Maria is a fierce individual, and everywhere the mob is, she is not. I am generally the same way. So it was interesting to see we actually had some differences over whether she wanted to see the new Star Wars or not. I suggested she was a bit of a cultural snob and was just not open to the idea of the series. Too much male posturing, too many men, too much hype, too many explosions, too much Disney, too much noise.
If Clarissa Estes wrote this story, I argued, you’d love it.
She took offense at this, bristled a bit. I said I wasn’t speaking to her. I pouted.
We made up at the hay feeder but there was a chill in the house for a few minutes, I admit. At breakfast, I glowered at her. She smiled back sweetly, unmoved. My glowering generally has little affect on her.
I did see the strangeness in it – after all we had been through, if I had to pick a subject we might argue about, Star Wars would have been last on my list.
She laughed, and said “you’re ticked off at me.” I was. I still am, sort of. The mind is a strange thing, the subconscious is fierce and mysterious.
I can’t tell you why I cried over the trailers for the movie, I rarely cry at all, let alone at the movies. I imagine I will bawl like a baby when I see the film, which I can’t wait to see. I notice that many of the reviewers have cried also. The movie, as the first one in the series, seems to touch a deep and emotional nerve in many people, somewhere between nostalgia and promise.
Why, I wonder, is this? I don’t care for epic battle scenes, explosions give me a headache. I did love the mythology surrounding Darth Vader. I know he was created in part by Joseph Campbell, whose study of ancient mythology kept coming across the man in the dark mask, etched on caves all over the ancient world.
I tried to explain this to Maria, but was not penetrating her resistance. I grew up on fantasy, it kept me alive. I suppose terrified and trapped little boys everywhere all wanted to be Luke Skywalker overcoming Darth Vader. I would have loved to find my own Yoda, who could have awakened the force in me, and given me the strength to heed my inner spirits and emerge victorious over the evil forces – teachers, parents, bullies, creeps – that sometimes surrounded me.
I loved that Yoda saw the strength in Luke, even when Luke didn’t, and that has been the story of my own life. But Luke had to believe it, and so did I. I found it on my own. Actually, with Maria’s help. So I know she gets it on at least that level.
“I do get that,” she huffed (she is reading this, commenting as she goes), “but that doesn’t mean I have to watch a whole lot of other stuff.”
Stay home, I suggested.
The idea of extreme fandom creeps me out. It’s easy to go too far.
I can’t imagine going to a Star Wars convention, buying a light saber or walking around dressed like Chewbacca. The connection for me is deeper. The Force speaks to our own lives, I told Maria. It speaks to awakening to the better parts of ourselves, to our own strength and power.
In a sense, I called upon the Force inside of me when I had Open Heart Surgery. I remember this young man with a clipboard, coming to see me, asking me to sign a piece of paper acknowledging that I knew I might die in surgery. I signed it and he left, sheepishly and quickly.
I closed my eyes, looked out at the lights beyond the hospital, wondered what kind of life I would be returning to after the surgery. What is inside of you?, I asked myself. I told myself I was strong, I had the power and the will to move beyond this, I imagined the life I wished to live when I got home. In it, I was strong, I was productive, I was much in love and engaged in my life. I was better, healthier, saved, not afflicted.
I decided to follow the forces inside of me, and I did. And I was home and working three days after they stopped my heart and re-arranged it.
And that is the life I have, the one I imagined. I feel I found my own strength that day and it guided me through that time.
This year, I felt it again when we decided we needed to file for bankruptcy, to recognize the reality of our lives and move on. And so we have. We both looked inside for our strength during that time, we both found it. Together.
I told Maria this wasn’t just a movie, in many ways, on a different scale, it reflected our own lives, and the strength we had found to change them. We had awakened the forces within us, I just didn’t know a better way to put it.
I did feel she was closed to this idea in the film, but I can also accept that. We don’t need to look at the world in the same way all the time. And I am sensitive to loving the idea of a movie this much. Makes me feel like a teenager.
Perhaps this idea of finding my strength is why I cry when I see the trailers.
The movie comes here Thursday, tomorrow. I will see it as soon as I can. Maria says she hasn’t made up her mind about seeing it yet. Its up to her. She likes the cookies the theater sells.