Tag Archives: Death Star

Four Life Lessons from the Skywalker Twins (for My Children)

By DAVID RIVAS

“Walmart TV ads inspire and motivate,” said no one ever. When they feature fan-boy/girl parents and a fanboy grandpa mentoring their young listeners with Star Wars-related advice, however — as the retail behemoth does in a recent ad campaign promoting their new Star Wars merchandise in anticipation of the much-hyped “Episode VII” — we can make an exception. The commercials really capture the essence of my experience with the epic space opera.

My older brother and I, thirteen years and no other siblings between us, had very few common interests; sci fi was one of them. I vividly and fondly remember my brother, a responsible grown-up NASA engineer, and I, a typically apathetic teenager, bonding while making a three-movie theater sprint to catch the 1997 theatrical rerelease of the original trilogy in one day.

I also fondly remember introducing my then skeptical girlfriend to the saga as we watched the new trilogy in the early 2000s. Despite its flaws, Episodes I-III served as a gateway drug into the beloved galaxy far, far away, and as an inspiration for one of my favorite Halloween costumes. She has since become my wife of eleven years and a bigger nerd than I.

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Halloween circa 2003.

More recently, George Lucas worked his magic as I watched all six films consecutively with my children (an eight-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter) — Episodes IV, V, VI, I, II, and III, in that order, as God intended.

By the time Anakin turns to the darkside, a single tear rolled down my son’s cheek, and I knew he got it. Now, my family and I, along with the human race, eagerly anticipate the robe-clad, lightsaber-wielding bonding that will take place on December 18, 2015, when “Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens” opens.

Those Walmart commercials rightly suggest that this story has a propensity to bring people together, despite generational gaps. Anthropologists or sociologists can explain how it’s ingrained in our collective psyche and shape what we value as a human race much more eloquently, and more convincingly than I’ll attempt here.

I’ll simply share four life lessons that I hope my kids can learn from the Skywalker twins.

Solving Problems with Non-Violence

I know. Lightsaber duels, spacecraft dog fights, Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen’s charred remains: these hardly seem nonviolent. An entire planet gets blown up in the first film. Although it’s hard to imagine playing Star Wars without mouthing the obligatory electrified sound effects of lightsabers as they crackle together in an inherently violent, epic battle, ultimately, Luke saves the day through an incredible act of nonviolence in “Return of the Jedi.”

Luke surrenders himself to the Emperor and Darth Vader, hoping to buy his friends time to destroy the deflector shield generator protecting the second Death Star so the entire rebel armada can sneak up on the Empire and win! Or so he thinks. Really, this turn out to be an elaborate ruse to destroy the rebellion and capture Luke.

This act of sacrifice seems to be in vain. After Forcing his dad off the stairs in battle, Luke says, with a confidence fueled by a blind, Force-driven faith that Vader can still be redeemed, “I will not fight you, father.” Eventually, Luke’s pacifist stance results in finding himself at the business end of the Emperor’s Force-lightning. Unable to bear the sight, Vader suffers a fatal wound, saving Luke from the Emperor.

Luke’s sacrificial decision to abstain from violence inspires the remnant of Anakin Skywalker that was deep down inside of Darth Vader to commit one final act of self-sacrifice, and the universe is saved. Star Wars teaches us that nonviolent conflict resolution encourages others to do good.

Kids, in real life, if we were all merely decent to one another, conflicts can be avoided.

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My kids posing as Finn and Rey on Halloween featuring the Antelope Valley’s desert landscape as a background.

Subverting Unfair Societal Expectations

May I harken the Walmart commercial one last time, specifically the scene where a mother asks her daugher, “Why doesn’t Leia just let the boys rescue her?” The adorable little girl mumbles a character analysis that I hope my daughter will always come back to when she reflects as an adult why she thought Princess Leia was so cool: “Because she’s a modern, empowered woman unfettered by the antiquated gender roles of a bygone era.”

In a turn of fate that my daughter loves, Leia takes the blaster from one of her rescuers, and blasts a hole in the wall to rescue herself, Luke, Han, and Chewie. She’s an accomplished leader, who despite taking a beating, keeps going.

So much so, she impresses Darth Vader with her resilience to withstand interrogation in Episode IV. She plays an active role in leading the rebellion, particularly as she gives orders to the squadron circling around her like a team gathers around their coach in locker room listening to the battle plan before the Battle of Hoth in Episode V.

In Episode VI, Leia rescues Han Solo (again) from his carbonite captivity, and steps into to the frontlines in the climactic Battle of Endor, while nurturing and befriending the Ewoks. She finds that perfect balance between warrior and nurturer found in the greatest of leaders.

A well-rounded character and role model, Leia even speaks some of the most memorable lines in the series. Just to quote a few:

“Governor Tarkin, I should have expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.”

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

“Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herder.”

“I know.”

Don’t let society’s gender roles limit who you are. Son, embrace artistic and emotional expression. Daughter, play with whatever toys from whatever color Target aisle you like. Defy expectations, especially to do what you know is right. Never resist a witty quip.

Seeking Instruction from Wise Teachers

The theme of looking for help from those more seasoned than yourself comes across prominently throughout the six films. Luke has to look to Yoda and Old Ben, even post-mortem Ben, for guidance in the Force. Even Leia, the embodiment of self-reliance (as discussed above) in the series, opens the story with a call for help to the venerable Obi Wan Kenobi, the galaxy’s “only hope,” exemplifying what a healthy balance of independence and dependence looks like.

I suspect that since Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, Artoo, and Threepio, who have been around the galaxy a time or two, are in the forthcoming installment, this theme will continue. Now seasoned and thirty years wiser, the original cast will mentor Rey, Finn, Poe, and BB-8.

Just like age can erode chasms between generations, mentorship acts as a bridge, simultaneously connecting us to the past while influencing the future. Maybe it’s just because I’m a school teacher by trade that I’m placing such high esteem to the mentor relationship: I feel like I bring my positive learning experiences to my teaching practice, and I hope that in turn, I’m positively influencing the future, both with my students and my own children.

So, kids, learn what you can from the teachers (in and out of the classroom) in your life. Then go and do likewise; be the Obi Wan in someone’s life.

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That time I ran into Mark Hamill, Luke Skywalker himself, at a USC football game. We spoke about film, life, and beating UCLA. USC lost that day.

Success Can be Achieved Amid Setbacks and Failures

Luke, with the help of his diverse band of friends, redeems his father, and restores order and hope to the galaxy. But the voyage, like a sloppily navigated hyperspace jump through an asteroid field, was bumpy … and it didn’t just take 12 parsecs either.

Luke loses his aunt and uncle, his home, and his right hand, finds out his dad’s been trying to kill him, and he kisses his sister. In fact, the first twenty minutes into “Return of the Jedi,” Luke has gotten himself and all of his friends captured by Jabba the Hutt. Just as all seems lost, Luke pulls a reverse diving board stunt, catching his brand new upgraded, green lightsaber in the battle over the Sarlacc pit.

What losses did Leia suffer? Oh yeah, she just lost her entire home world!

Each entry in the six-film series features a peripeteia, a reversal of fortune at a moment when all seems lost: When the proton torpedo shot needed to destroy the Death Star is an impossible shot; when in front of you Darth Vader stands pointing a lightsaber and behind you is the endless Bespin sky; when you’re locked out of the shield generator control room while surrounded by stormtroopers on the forest moon of Endor.

Whatever your metaphor of choice, you learn from setbacks and try again.

Kids, when life gives you the blues, make blue milk.

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David Rivas lives in Lancaster, California, with his wife and two kids. He teaches English and the ways of the Force at Highland High School.

Photos courtesy of David Rivas.

The Night Han Solo’s Blaster Came to Visit, or My Life With the Force

When I was 13, my dad came home with a surprise.

He was working at a hobby shop on Avenue I, where regular customers would bring unusual collectibles for show and tell.

One day, a film industry guy stopped by with a movie prop he thought my dad would be interested in.

My father convinced the man to let him take Han Solo’s blaster home for the night so he could impress his kids.

I don’t actually know if the fictional gun came from the set of George Lucas’ famous trilogy or whether Harrison Ford ever touched it or if it was just a convincing replica.

It didn’t matter. It was like Christmas at our house when my dad came strolling through the door with one of the coolest looking pieces of hardware in cinema history.

My siblings and I spent the rest of the evening posing for photos with the coveted weapon in the backyard, make-believing we were slumming it at Mos Eisley Cantina or caught in the thick of battle on Endor.

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My dad, Gordon Kemble, with the purported Han Solo blaster. 

My dad was always very sweet about bringing me whatever Star Wars items he came across at the shop — books, role playing games, whatever odds and ends he could find.

It was six years after the release of “Return of the Jedi” and merchandise from the trilogy was scarce. Lucasfilm had yet to fully capitalize on the franchise’s marketing potential and souvenirs were difficult to find.

I became a disciple of Star Wars in a vacuum of sorts. I was 12 when I saw “A New Hope,” not in a theater, or on Blu-ray, or on a 60-inch flat-screen, but on the old television set in my great-aunt’s den.

Despite the humble presentation, I was awestruck by Lucas’ space opera. I remember the sight of C-3PO and R2-D2 shuffling down the shiny corridors of the Death Star, the thrill of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker’s rescue of Princess Leia, who was no damsel in distress, the hilarious suspense of the trash compactor scene, the mysticism of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the allure of the monk-robed Jedi, and of course, the brilliance and majesty of the lightsaber.

I really did think that someday the lightsaber would exist.

I saw the trilogy out of order. My sixth-grade teacher showed “Return of the Jedi” as a reward. Surrounded by classmates who had all seen the movie long ago, I marveled at Luke’s transformation from restless farm boy to noble Jedi warrior. By the end of the film, I was doing the “Yub Nub” dance right along with the Ewoks.

I then convinced my parents to rent “The Empire Strikes Back.” We took it to my grandparents’ house because they had a VCR. Finally, I was privy to the full mythology and the darkest and perhaps richest chapter of the trilogy, which was a little over my head at the time.

I wouldn’t see Star Wars on the big screen until the great re-release of 1997, a joyous occasion despite Lucas’ infamous tampering with his original imagery.

And I wouldn’t experience the heady, comforting rush of communing and commiserating with other Star Wars fans until 1999 when a certain prequel fanned the flames of frenzy over the franchise once again, for better or for worse.

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Camping out for tickets for “The Phantom Menace.”

Since then, I’ve enjoyed living in a Golden Age of Star Wars fandom, largely thanks to the efforts of Disney.

Merchandise is readily available, discussion is lively, and new developments are constantly on the horizon. It’s more than I ever dreamed of as a little girl, pretending to fly through the trenches of the Death Star in my very own X-wing starfighter.

This Golden Age will hit an unprecedented high on Dec. 18 with director J.J. Abrams’ new chapter in the franchise, “Episode VII — The Force Awakens.”

Whether this new entry in the series is spectacular or an epic failure, Star Wars will remain an integral part of my life. It’s sacred to me in a way that will not fade or change.

In a way, I owe my career to Star Wars.

My fascination with the franchise led to an abiding curiosity about cinema. I wanted to know how George Lucas brought the Rancor to life or created the awesome jump to lightspeed.

I subscribed to Lucasfilm Magazine so I could find out. I checked out books from the library on editing and cinematography and sound.

One of my first articles at the newspaper where I spent nearly 15 years writing about film was a well-meaning but misguided defense of “The Phantom Menace,” which was taking quite a critical drubbing.

I’m not going to claim that Star Wars taught me about love, but however weird it may sound, it is a significant part of my marriage.

My husband Nick and I were seeing other people when we camped out in the parking lot of a mall to be the first to snag tickets for “The Phantom Menace.”

By “Attack of the Clones,” we were dating. By “Revenge of the Sith,” we had tied the knot.

Star Wars isn’t the glue that holds our relationship together, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

Not a day goes by that we don’t find ourselves talking about “The Force Awakens.” Some girls dream of diamonds from their beloved. My fondest gift from my husband is a red Force FX replica lightsaber. I’ll treasure it always.

More importantly, those first, indelible images of Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford  in Star Wars taught me that I didn’t have to conform to what society might expect of me.

Sure, I wanted to dress up as Princess Leia for Halloween. She was, refreshingly, a princess who did much more than waltz about in a ballgown and tiara.

But early on I discovered that I didn’t really want to be Leia. She didn’t get to wield the lightsaber. We never saw her embrace her powers or her path to the Force. What I wanted to be was Luke Skywalker or Han Solo.

Star Wars helped me realize that as a girl I could be a Jedi, I could pilot a starfighter, I could shoot a blaster, I could save the galaxy from the evil Galactic Empire. So why should I limit myself in real life?

As I grow older, Lucas’ universe keeps me connected to my childhood self, the one who stood with Luke, gazing at the setting twin suns of Tatooine, dreaming of what the future might hold.

I hope it will always hold more Star Wars.

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