If you watch television, use social media, know a nerd or have a pulse, you probably know that the final film in the Star Wars sequel trilogy, The Rise of Skywalker, was released in late December. The hype surrounding the movie, while definitely manufactured and meticulously planned by Disney to a disturbing degree, was real. I completely bought into it, because I am a mark, and I dedicated November and December to consuming as much Star Wars content as possible in preparation for the end.
I’ve spent most of the last month or so rewatching the films in chronological order — Episodes I-III, Solo, Rogue One, and Episodes IV-VIII — and catching up with the multiple animated series, like many other fans, I’d guess. I watch the original trilogy often and did a mini-chronological rewatch ahead of The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, but I hadn’t watched The Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones in at least a decade.
Unfortunately for literally everyone around me, it was all I wanted to talk about for several weeks. That The Mandalorian premiered in the middle of it all only made my obsession even more hyper-focused.
This gave me (and my colleagues in the editorial department at CNS, who were also doing their own versions of rewatching) a case of acute Star Wars brain. I know it may be hard to believe — a bunch of millennial/Gen X journalist dweebs who have toys all over their desks spending a couple of months dissecting the most enduring piece of science fiction from the last 40 years in preparation for its conclusion? Shocking.
We talked about our favorite lightsaber battles (Obi-Wan vs. Anakin, Vader vs. Luke in Empire, Qui-Gon vs. Darth Maul, Rey vs. Kylo Ren, Rey and Kylo vs. the Praetorian Guard), which characters have the best laugh (Jabba the Hutt, Emperor Palpatine, Salacious Crumb) and, once The Mandalorian started, Baby Yoda, obviously. Have you ever wanted to listen in on multiple conversations about giving C-3PO a gun or hear what Vader lines would sound like coming from Jar Jar Binks? It was full-on Star Wars immersion.
This was fitting, because I’m not sure there’s anything I’ve loved longer than Star Wars. Like many fans, it’s been a constant for most of my life. My brother and I wore out our early-90s original trilogy boxset on VHS, even taking the tapes with us on summer vacation a few times. I feel like we’re all born with the knowledge that Vader is Luke’s father. Luke and Leia and Han have sort of just always been there—a cultural constant, the original Harry, Hermione and Ron.
I know The Rise of Skywalker won’t be the last Star Wars movie, but four decades have built toward this (even if two more trilogies were not part of the original plan). We’ve spent so many years with these characters, watching them develop over a massive canon that spans decades and formats, and the lessons they’ve taught us (or me, at least) endure.
For example: If you meet someone who makes you think of Han Solo, stay away. Stay far away. He does not exist. That man will never be real. There is no cocky scoundrel with a heart of gold who learns, despite his own hard-headed insistence, that companionship and camaraderie are worth fighting for.
Also, sibling bonds are real, and their power transcends the constraints of time and space; the metaphorical Force IS always with you, and it will help you through anything; and Ewoks are cute and good and also demonic.
I generally try to avoid the “my childhood is over” sentiment, but the Skywalker Saga ending as my 30th year on this planet begins just feels apt. I’ve used this space a few times to reflect on change and nostalgia a few times before, and I’m coming dangerously close to doing it again, but it’s impossible for me to talk about Star Wars without it.
The story of the Skywalkers has been with me through every stage of my life—there is a Star War for every era. The first prequel film was released when I was in third grade, and the final one came out my freshman year of high school. The sequel trilogy has basically dominated the second half of my 20s, and it’s closing out a year of immense, difficult change—it’s felt a lot like Han piloting the Millenium Falcon through an asteroid field. And, much like Han, I’m okay with not knowing the odds of complete and utter destruction.
I just have to trust the Force.
Read Rob Anthes’ Star Wars column here.
She Said, She Said is Samantha Sciarrotta’s monthly column for the Hamilton Post.,
