Anakin No More

As I had promised him, I got around to watching the Star Wars films with my son, Berto. And I cried more than I should probably confess. 

Yes, I'm a dork, but in the Star Wars Saga as in any truly great tale, I see the truths about human experience and about incremental choices made in everyday life to work toward good or evil. This drives my husband crazy sometimes, how I must delve into films, books or songs instead of purely escaping through them, extracting and dissecting their emotional, intellectual and spiritual assets in my examination of their merit. Then, heaven forbid! I must talk about it.

But I did learn a couple superficial things, too. I learned I grew up, because though I may have found him fascinating as a kid, I now find Jabba the Hut to be one of the most universally revolting characters ever created. I could barely bear to look at his vulgar, slimy, slug-like hideousness on the screen. I discovered that men's fantasies about Princess Leia in her bikini are valid, because, boy, that is some bikini. It looks like a beast to wear (what is that top - metal?), but it's an iconic image of female beauty even though it happens in far off fantasy land and with impossibly coiffed hair, fortunately without the ear braids.

I understood while watching these films, however, that this was also a teaching moment. My son had been telling me for some time his perspective on the tale. He sympathized with the unfortunate Anakin who becomes the hyper-cool and vicious Darth Vader, but I'll be damned if I don't take the opportunity to point out everything Anakin forfeited in his restless, self-seeking path of anger, revenge, hate and death.

"Berto, shame on Anakin. Shame on him," I kept saying, shaking my head at each new development in Anakin's journey to the dark side.

"But, but..." Berto kept saying. There's always buts.

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The Revenge of the Sith is quite stressful to watch when you have a two-and-a-half-year-old awake from his nap, but you're inexorably sucked into the epic battle between good and evil in one crazy, complex and fascinating character. Your mama judgement is affected.

"Berto, quick! Get up here and help me block out the screen," I said over and over again when disturbing scenes - just guess how many there were - played out on the TV. It didn't work too well; Berto and I had to shuffle around hip to hip as my Danny boy kept trying to see around us.

Plus, Danny just wanted Mama to play. I wasn't in too light a mood, you understand, because my emotions are easily manipulated by what I'm observing around me, and I was observing a whole lot of chaos, fear, and anguish diced up for my...amusement? Several times I just turned the screen off, especially when the Emperor appeared in all his...uh...glory or during moments of the horrific but impressively choreographed battle scene between Obi-Wan and Vader.

I did try. I bounced the ball back and forth with my little son to distract him while trying to twist one eye ever to the hypnotic screen. But when my little guy bounced the ball into the netherworld beneath the couch or entertainment center and couldn't find it, he threw an enormous tantrum; I think all the tension in the room was wiring his emotions, too.

"Bawl! Bawl," he whined.

"I don't know where your ball is!" I shouted back repeatedly. "Find it yourself!"

Yes, that's ugly. I think I'd taken a step or two toward the dark side at that point, but I was sick of all the getting up and sitting down, migration between real life and fantasy, bouncing balls and light saber combat. I was up to my neck in conflicting interests. I should have just turned off the movie, of course.

Finally, the end at last. Anakin and Padme's babies are orphaned, essentially, and separated.

"Oh, Berto..." I began, but then my voice broke. "Anakin lost...everything..."

Initially small, selfish steps easily led the volatile Anakin to take broad strides toward the corruption of his whole being, and he, through his vice, lost not only the one he bartered everything for, but he gave up knowing their children as well. I sobbed because I am a parent, and I understand what was lost. Obi-Wan's grief over the loss of his Jedi brother even as he combats him, his cry, "Anakin! You were supposed to bring balance to the Force, not plunge it into darkness!", overwhelmed me, too.

Yes, I know it's fiction.

"I'm going to make a list of all the movies you've cried at," said my son, but gently as I raised my wet face from my hands.

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A blank screen where all that energy had been. With my emotions still unbalanced, I picked up the Sunday paper, discombobulated, and read a terrible story about some woman's boyfriend abusing and allegedly murdering her young child. This mother was selfishly willing to leave her child for her own convenience in the care of someone whom she knew had harmed her child before. She herself had even reported the abuse. How many times have I read just that same story in the paper? Human folly, in all its subtle variations, is without end, but the themes are always there - selfishness, pride, stupidity, lust, greed....power.

I stared into space, watching my thoughts dance around the bonfire of my rage, and perhaps my eyes took on a red tinge, because Berto said in concern, "Mama, what are you thinking about?"

So I told him without giving him the specific details. I told him about my anger against these wicked people in the world who disrupt the natural order. Especially against those who hurt children. How I knew it was wrong to want revenge against others, but how the things that people do to each other distress and infuriate me.

Then I pulled him onto my lap, this tall nine-year-old son of mine who loves Star Wars, and I hugged him tight and buried my face in his chest while I wept for fictional tragedy and real life evil.

My Little Anakin

While I'm cooking dinner, sitting at the table, or sweeping the floors and picking up, my son Berto regales me with Star Wars stories. He's obsessed with them and has read plenty of books by many different authors even though he has never seen any of the movies.  He needs to unload the emotions stirred by this epic tale, and his dad thinks that Star Wars, Star Trek - any cultural phenomenon that begins with "Star" - is for nerds. So Berto bends my ear, and I thank heavens he doesn't know I fell asleep while watching Phantom Menace in the theater.

He sympathizes with Anakin. I'm always hearing about how hard Anakin Skywalker had it, what bad luck in his family life, Obi-Wan was just a Jedi bully with no understanding, etc. etc...and that's why Anakin was forced to the dark side of the force, forced to become Darth Vader.

One evening when I probably should have been hurrying my behind to get his siblings in bed, I listened fascinated as my son discussed the history between Anakin, Princess Amidala, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. My son is an oral storyteller like his Paca (my dad), and I felt no rush to veer away from a galaxy far, far away into my real life responsibilities despite the fact that my Man kept making "wrap it up" signals over his dinner plate.

My son's zeal spread into his school life. He had a biography book report to do, his last of the year. He considered Elvis and George Lucas.  Of course, he chose Lucas. The students had to dress up like the individual they were giving the report on, and I was put out, because where on earth was I going to find my son a fake beard and mustache several months out from Halloween? In the end I taught him how to paint a beard on his face with brown and black eyeliner, stuck him in a nice checkered shirt, and gave him a name tag that declared he was indeed "George Lucas".

When I walked into the classroom on the day of the presentation, having just ran my tail off across the courtyard to make it in time (as usual), I saw Abe Lincoln, Cleopatra and various other historical figures milling about. Panting from my exertion and trying to keep my toddler corralled on my lap and my preschooler in line, I watched as Berto got up. What a handsome bearded director he was! His smile was broad (yes, he was glad to have me there), only a few of his lines were forgotten, and he shared how Lucas got the idea for the Force after a devastating, near-fatal car wreck when he was a teenager. Then my boy called out with aplomb, "Alright, people! Lights...camera...action!" while holding his plastic telescope aloft as a video camera, a truly inspired Lucas.

When I was a kid and braided buns over each ear, Darth Vader, and squat, yet exceptionally wise Jedi Masters permeated the culture, I remember being as enthralled by Star Wars as the next kid. I don't think my son would have approved of my favorite character, however. I loved him because he was slug-like and very odd. I also liked his tail and his name: Jabba the Hutt.

(I always rooted for some of the least loved characters. When I saw King Kong for the first time as a little, little girl, I ran to my mother near the end of the movie, crying, "The bagrilla died! The bagrilla died" I was traumatized about that for years.)

I was a strange child, so Jabba the Hutt was just my kind of...whatever the heck he was. Apparently I liked westerns, too, because I remember sticking a twig in the back of my pants in imitation of Jabba's tail, grabbing a fake pistol, and stomping around in cowboy boots to approach various members of my family and say, "Do you wanna see Jesus?" in a rough southern accent. That was a distinctly odd mixture of sci-fi, wild west, and fire and brimstone influences, but my parents thought their strange girl was hilarious. My siblings thought it was less amusing, more like a warning of embarrassments to come.

My son of course would be horrified to know how shallow and muddled was my interpretation of Star Wars then. But like so many things of my youth, I have put aside my love for Jabba the Hutt and even my tears for gigantic mutant gorillas who tragically fall in love with women. In fact, this complicated Anakin character really piques my interest, and the Force, like so many things in a great number of famous tales, is a great device to illustrate the fascinating pull between good and evil humans experience daily.

My son's been begging me, and I'm ready to watch the movies again. After all, I don't have time to read all the books he tells me to read, but I do want to share this with him. We'll make a marathon occasion of it with popcorn, Darth Vader bobbleheads and maybe some nifty light sabers. We'll stay up late and have a ball. And this time I won't fall asleep. The Force will be with me.