What do you call someone who was not a fan of all the previous Star Wars movies, but is now a fan because of The Force Awakens? A quasi-fan? A half-assed fan? A late bloomer?
I was not a fan of the Star Wars franchise. My American husband is, kind of. We were both nine years old when the first Star Wars came out. I was living in Bangkok in 1977 and I don’t think I even knew of the movie then since movies at the time were released a couple of years later there. On the other hand, my husband went to see the film nine times that summer…
My first foray into Star Wars was when I went to see The Empire Strikes Back in the early 80s. I blanked out as soon as the prologue scrolled out into space. I managed to finish the movie only because you just don’t leave a movie theater on your own when you’re a 13-year-old Asian girl.
Then came 1999’s The Phantom Menace. I gave it another shot. I really did. I even lined up for the opening in Westwood Village for hours with hundreds of Star Wars fans, pretending that I was a die-hard fan, just like everyone else in line. But after two hours and too much of Jar Jar Binks, I knew I was most definitely NOT one of them.
Then comes 2015. The Force Awakens was the most anticipated movie event of the year. As if I never learned my lesson that this galaxy far, far away was far away from my idea of a good movie, here I was actually excited to go see it. I succumbed to the hype. I planned to see the opening with my husband and even thought we would refresh our memories of the saga by sitting through all twelve hours or so of rented Netflix discs in order of theatrical release starting with episode IV and ending in episode III (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re not a Star Wars fan either), but the plan fizzled. I managed to watch only the first film, further confirmation that I was so NOT a Star Wars fan.
On Dec 18th, I settled into my seat at the 6:15 pm showing of The Force Awakens with an extra large popcorn in my lap and a jumbo Star Wars memorabilia cup in the cup holder, fully expecting that the next two hours would be a forgettable concession to my husband’s kind of Star Wars fandom, and guess what? I loved it!
I liked it so much I went to see it again for the second time a week later at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood (which, by the way, has far inferior sound system than the theater at the Grove where I saw it the first time.) And I even liked it the second time.
I adore the cast of this new generation of Star Wars actors. I welled up when Luke, Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca, CP30 and R2-D2 came on the screen. I thought J.J. Abrams did a fantastic job of making the film accessible for everyone – fan or not. I even love Kylo Ren even though he throws tantrums like a millennial brat on a verge of a mass shooting.
I’ll spare you an actual review of the film since, as a new fan, I don’t feel qualified to write one. One thing I can do though is to embark on another try of Star Wars binge. Episode IV, V, VI, I, II and III. All in that order while drinking soda from my Star Wars plastic cup I brought home from the theater last weekend.
