i am not a star wars fan but i do live with one
. and being an actor, i happened to have played a rebel pilot on a small screen at one time in my past.
i thought that since i was a rebel, i was a bad guy. this did not thrill the rabid fan in my life. it was not just.
so this christmas night i found myself watching a newly minted bootleg of THE STAR WARS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
or maybe it was 77. or 79. i refuse to learn the stats. my life is awash with starwarstats. when i am FORCE
d to ask a question for clarification of the "STAR WARS UNIVERSE,"
i insist that the answer be provided in 25 words or less. if you are attached to a geekstar, try it. they just might enjoy the challenge. it's a win win...
but tonight was unexpectedly upsetting. i settled in with two hard core star wars insider types. i thought we might hoot or holler a bit. but it was much more disturbing...
i was nauseated. not by some moral, political thing -- like i usually am -- but more like car-sickness. it was so surreal. such cognitive dissonance of a sort. the pacing so slow and meaningful and guileless. and my judgment so cynical and jaded. peering in on this touching wookie family drama while knowing the little i do of what would become of the Empire just didn't feel right. the star wars washed-up-drug-addled-actors and cheap-junk-"collectibles"-merchandising-bonanzapalooza Empire, that is. it was just too much to take. i felt like a nasty, dirty, evil, nauseated voyeur.
we get to know the wookie family intimately. maybe too intimately. a constant saccharine muzak soundtrack dictates sympathy for the family in spite of the visage of a frightening, white haired, seemingly retarded deaf mute grandpa(ma?)'s with a gummy, drooling mouth. then mama wookie hooks grandpa(ma?) wookie up to some type of pleasure helmet cum virtual reality CUM PORN MACHINE featuring dianne carroll (JULIA!
) performing either the very first phone sex script ever or an oral interpretation of some XXX version of Alice in Wonderland... Alice 'n WonderGland?... and that's when the camera kind of stays on an awkward head and shoulder shot of grandpa(ma), never venturing below the armpits. makes you kind of wonder what's going on below the frame. is s/he moving her/his arms? is s/he doing something with his/her hands? is s/he doing something bad? like, maybe something that should be done in private? but s/he's doing it right there in the middle of the living room! what else is gummy and drooly on that costume? AAAAAAGH!
this was baaaaaaaad, folks. scaaaaaaaary bad. bad bad. bad bad bad. traumatizing. be warned.
and i haven't even told you about the vaudeville sketches by harvey korman and art carney juxtaposed with psuedo-psychedelic shabby-chic 70's cirque du soleil acrobats and JEFFERSON STARSHIP/AIRPLANE
singing something "spacey." or BEA ARTHUR'S SINGING BARMAID NUMBER
in the cantina to the tune of STAR WARS!
i think the words are "BAR'S CLOSED!"
-- i just asked the geekstar what the fucking name of the cantina is: M-O-S E-I-S-L-E-Y cantina. give me a break! what the world could do with those beautiful brain cells, honey!