When the credits roll today, it will end a two-decade journey that captivated millions
Upon us, the end of an era is.
The end of Obi-Wan Kenobis and Darth Vaders sparring with plastic lightsabers as they camp outside the cineplex to secure the premium theater spot — 10 rows back and seven seats to the middle.
The end of Lando Calrissian Burger King glasses and cutting UPC codes off boxes of Crispix to earn the free R2D2 cereal bowl in the mail.
The end of a generation's worth of anticipation after anticipation.
For faithful believers, both young and old, the mere mention of "Star Wars: Episode III — Revenge of the Sith" is a point of both anxious excitement and gloomy finality.
The very moment the operatic music crescendoes to its climax and the distinctive faded-blue text reading "Directed by George Lucas" appears in the closing credits, even a supreme knowledge of The Force couldn't change reality: the promise of a new, unexplored "Star Wars" experience will be no more.
"It's so sad to me, because I feel like that was an important part of growing up," says Jeanean Bartley, who remembers her first "Star Wars" experience as a seventh-grader in 1977, when the first film was released. "You could always look forward to the next one, and that's not going to happen anymore."
As the end of a cultural touchstone creeps upon us like the shroud of the Dark Side, we reflect on our childhoods — and those of our children who today cut out their own UPC codes.
The promise of "Star Wars" is that we grown-up children might tap into timeless myth and enjoy perpetual youth.
For those of us who remember 1983 and watching through little eyes as Darth Vader triumphantly throws the evil Emperor into the abyss in "Star Wars: Episode Six — Return of the Jedi," we can only wonder if our excitement at seeing the man behind the mask will be the same as seeing how he put the mask on.
After all, that's what "Revenge of the Sith" is all about — a glimpse of how your father became who he is.
We swore 20 years ago that by the year 2005 someone would have figured out how to make a real lightsaber instead of the kind you make by turning on a flashlight in a cloud of smoke billowing from the grill.
We didn't always pick up the Darth Vader cereal and check the carb count; like our children today, we once poured the sweetened oats into a bowl and picked out Droid marshmallows.
We once summed up a lightsaber duel as simply "cool" — and that was far more insightful than, say, "a modern interpretation of the elegant swordsmanship of the samurai, in keeping with the various mythical and historical archetypes George Lucas drew from to ensure his vast universe resonated."
Like "Star Wars" disciples — both young and old — we acted out innumerable prequels and sequels with action figures nightly on the living room carpet.
"This is one of those things that has spanned an entire generation," says Robert Thompson, a Syracuse University pop culture expert. "It stretches over, in some cases, people's entire memories. When something like that has been part of one's life for so long, when it goes away, there is a sense of loss — and not one to be made fun of."
The first English-language movie Jerry Zayas saw was "Star Wars: Episode IV — A New Hope," when he was a 5-year-old in his native Puerto Rico in 1977.
He could neither understand the words of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo nor yet read the Spanish subtitles. But the 33-year-old Easley father says the story, so visual and so epic, transcended language.
Shortly after "Return of the Jedi" left theaters, Zayas says he read a quote by Lucas that the creator/producer/director intended to someday translate onto the big screen the three previous stories he had written of how once-virtuous Jedi warrior Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader.
The promise of a new "Star Wars" experience was always just over the horizon where the two suns of Tatooine set. After today, those suns set for good.
"I've been waiting about 25 years to see this movie," says Zayas, who by his own admission has "brainwashed" his 5-year-old son, Nathan, into the Jedi Order. "When it cuts to the credits, my first thought will be, 'When will the wife and kids let me come back?' Once it goes off the screen and I've seen it plenty, from now on it's DVD. Depressing."
And the sense of loss isn't just for those who have lived 20-some-odd years with the assurance of a new "Star Wars" adventure. Ten-year-old Austin Teel finds himself playing the roles of characters, both old and new, with full knowledge that there will be no more new movies.
"When I heard it was the last 'Star Wars' movie that was coming out, I was a little disappointed," says Teel, a Camperdown Academy fifth-grader. "I'm just glad that they're going to do this one. Something is better than nothing."
Nothing is what Dale Hathaway is afraid of.
He is a member of the 501st Carolina Garrison of Storm Troopers. He knew from the moment he saw the opening scene of "Star Wars" in 1977 that he wanted to be one of those homogenous foot soldiers dressed in white armor, who both shoot inprecisely at the good guys on the big screen and show up at movie theaters to bring a bit of fantasy into reality.
He worries what will become of his comrades in arms after today and as the movie slowly fizzles away with the summer heat. "What are we going to do?" the 37-year-old Mauldin father of four says. "Are we going to be doomed to doing birthday parties?"
(A small consolation: The faithful who attended the "Star Wars" convention in Indianapolis last month learned from The Creator himself that two television series based on the saga are in the works and that he intends to re-release to the big screen all six episodes in 3-D).
Hathaway will be in uniform today — as he is for conventions and charity events — at Hollywood 20 with his fellow role players. He does it, in part, so the kids of today can experience the human spectacle of a new release just as those before them.
Hathaway has marveled at his two sons, 7-year-old James and 16-year-old Allen, as they have grown into "Star Wars" in their own ways. Longtime followers who remember the camp and technical jerry-rigging of the originals tend to see the prequels as overwrought, he says, but children of his sons' generation tell a different story.
One thing is certain: A grown-up child of the 1980s will dress as a storm trooper outside the theater for three days before he sees the movie Saturday.
"The adults, I'm sure you'll see some of them laughing and smiling when the show's over with," he says, "but I'm sure you're going to also see some of them shed a tear: 'This is the end. I've seen them all.'"
And so ends an era.
THE DAY AFTER
Star wars fans' Sith sense creates force to be reckoned with
Crowd forms early to be first to see final installment
Darth Vader and his red lightsaber retreat in fear as the imposing figure of an Imperial Storm Trooper reaches out his hand.
Quite a turn on convention, it is: The sinister masked villain cowering at the sight of the foot soldier he typically commands with the fear that even the most-trivial of mistakes could lead to the infamous death by "force choke."
Of course, this Vader is 3 feet tall, so forgive him if the sight of a full-size Storm Trooper extending an invitation to mug for a picture is unsettling. In the eyes of a 4-year-old evil Sith lord — real name Brent Webb — this spectacle outside the Hollywood 20 theater for the midnight premiere of "Star Wars: Episode III — Revenge of the Sith" is all too real.
Imperial Trooper TK 27-12 — who when he's not slaying rebel scum is 37-year-old John Talbert of Taylors — explains the reactions he gets whenever he marches around in his menacing white evil empire-issued uniform.
"The more of a fan they are, the more apprehensive they are," TK 27-12 says, as he surveys the crowd at Wednesday evening's pre-"Sith" extravanganza.
The Storm Troopers, the Darth Vaders and the Boba Fetts camping out in line and comparing costumes are all playing roles in what has been a cultural tradition for 28 years, when the first "Star Wars" blasted onto movie screens in 1977.
It is a rite of passage in American pop culture, one shared by both young and old as the "Star Wars" saga comes full circle with the revelation of how once-virtuous Anakin Skywalker became the masked Darth Vader.
Brent and his 6-year-old brother, Ryker (playing the role of a young Obi-Wan Kenobi), are the subject of countless inquiring point-and-shoot cameras tonight. It must have something to do with the fact that their fierce plastic lightsaber duels spirits grown-up children back to a time before they had grown up.
The boys' father, Brooks Webb, has brought them out to Hollywood 20 not to see the movie (the only one of the six episode epic rated PG-13), but to drink in what will be the final, uncharted "Star Wars" experience.
Webb, 35, remembers seeing the original "Star Wars" seven times as a child with his brother, Chad, who also camped out with him for the premiere of 1999's "Episode I — The Phantom Menace."
"It is the end of era, because you could always look forward to the next one," says Webb, of Greer. "I joked with someone recently who suggested that I buy life insurance. I said, 'I hope I don't need it before the last 'Star Wars' comes out.'"
Made it alive, he did.
A theme of anxious anticipation mixed with mild melancholy is present here in The Line, where faithful followers jockey for the coveted middle seat inside the theater.
Steven Neitz and his buddy Bryan Hutchinson are first in line, camping out since 2:30 p.m., not necessarily to secure the best seat, but to sit down, drink sodas, wipe their mouths with "Star Wars" napkins and talk about the end of an era.
The only rule: Neitz, 26, a voracious consumer of online "Star Wars" information that reveals key plot twists in "Revenge of the Sith," cannot talk with his comrades about the spoilers bouncing around his brain.
Neitz and Hutchinson have done the hard work. Neitz's fiancee, Bethe Kitchen, has arrived late and deftly cut in line (albeit well before the line stretched into the Greenville Mall parking lot). Kitchen — whose toes are painted with the Imperial insignia on one foot and the Rebel insignia on the other — has bittersweet feelings about the movie she is about to see.
"It's always been something to look forward to, but at the same time it's really great to see George Lucas' vision complete," says the 35-year-old Kitchen, who points out her goose bumps at the mere mention of her first seeing the original "Star Wars" as a 7-year-old.
Perhaps the most-steadfast "Star Wars" disciple today is Geoff Mitchell, who has been in line since 10 a.m. at the new Camelot Cinema at McAlister Square.
A 12-pack of Dr. Pepper rests under his portable chair, and his black "Revenge of the Sith" T-shirt is OK in the balmy mid-May breeze.
The 23-year-old Furman student has spent 14 hours outside the theater today (in reward for his dedication, ownership has allowed him to tour the new, digital-screen theater and reserve his seat).
What more momentous occasion to skip class?
"Just waiting in line is part of the experience," Mitchell says. "The energy in the line is just really cool. I didn't have anything to do today, and I skipped school because I'm graduating anyway."
Mitchell's friend, Michael Freeman, had meant to join his fellow true believer in the morning. The decision was tough (this is the last "Star Wars" after all), but he attended to his prior engagement and made it to the campout at 3 p.m.
"What can I say?" Freeman said. "I had a job interview."
