The Star Wars universe always has been one obsessed with parentage and origin.
Throughout the franchise, a character’s parents often have been a simple way for writers to provide motivation for characters—“Who am I? And what is my purpose in this galaxy?”
Nothing exemplifies this more than in “The Empire Strikes Back” when Darth Vader delivers the most famous line in any of the films: “No, I am your father.” Vader revealing his relation to Luke Skywalker did more than shock audiences; it altered the trajectory of Star Wars as a whole.
So, it’s only fitting then that my own life’s trajectory has been altered thanks to my father and his love for the world of Star Wars. The Dec. 20 release of “The Rise of Skywalker”—the final movie in the nine-part saga that has been most people’s interaction with Star Wars—has forced me to reflect on what this series has meant to me. And what it has meant to my relationship with my dad.
Dad has loved the series ever since he was a teenager. He still likes to tell the story about how, after seeing the first film in 1977 with a group of friends, they sped home from the theater with headlights flashing, making hyperspace and laser blaster sound effects all the way.
Dad adored the 1977 movie so much that he returned to see it again with my mother, on what was one of their first dates. She fell asleep.
Now 42 years later, Mom could be considered at least Star Wars-adjacent, in that she has had Star Wars blankets, Star Wars action figures, Star Wars dog toys, a Star Wars husband and two Star Wars sons scattered about the house. (My sister, like Mom, graciously tolerated it. She calls herself a “semi-fan.”)
My brother and I were all in from the start. And lucky for my dad, too, since we were born at the perfect time for second-generation Star Wars fans. We grew up watching the original trilogy on VHS, hearing about how the small screen couldn’t properly convey the magic of the films. I can’t speak for my brother, but I know I couldn’t contain my excitement when Lucasfilm announced it would be remastering and re-releasing the films in 1996.
Dad took us to see them, even pulling me away from studying for a middle school social studies test to go see “The Empire Strikes Back” in the old General Cinema movie theater at Mercer Mall. And, of course, Dad was right—nothing compares to seeing the opening crawl on the big screen, the sound of John Williams’ opening fanfare enveloping you.
This experience passed the mania on to us, and kicked off what has turned out to be something of a ritual for the Anthes men. My brother and I have both seen almost every Star Wars movie in the theater more than once. We had to by necessity because, even if we saw a film first with friends, we hadn’t truly seen it until we could watch it with Dad, using the car ride home to discuss his theories about the plot, the characters and where the story might go next.
My brother even passed up a chance to see an early screening of 2015’s “The Force Awakens” at the Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles because he wanted to see the movie for the first time with Dad. The only Star Wars film we have not seen together in the theater is 2018’s “Solo,” and only then because I was sidelined for months after major surgery. And it turned out that since I couldn’t go to see it, none of us did. It didn’t seem right to see it without each other.
This past April, we had the honor of introducing my father to one of his lifelong heroes, Chewbacca, while on a family trip to Walt Disney World. (It was the first time the entire family had all gone together to Disney World since the Anthes kids were, well, kids.) The Wookiee gave Dad a big hug—and while Dad seemed embarrassed by the whole thing, he admitted the experience made him smile. And I felt that perhaps I finally had paid him back a little for all the opportunities he had given me.
I know I love Star Wars for its own merits—there’s so many moments and characters imprinted on my memory.
But, if I think—truly think—about why I relate to this franchise, I can’t deny it’s mainly because this has been something for me to share with my father.
So, as I see the last movie in the days after this edition goes to press, I—and I suspect many others—will be reflecting not only about the relationship between children and their parents on the screen, but also what Star Wars has meant to the children and parents in the audience.
And perhaps that’s something as powerful as the Force itself.
Read Samantha Sciarrotta’s Star Wars column here.
This is the 100th Minutes from Somewhere Else column written by Hamilton Post senior community editor Rob Anthes.,
