Film critics: Keeps Lucas’ blockbuster in perspective

Geoff Carter

Thursday, May 16, 2002 | 8:33 a.m.

Believe it or not there was a time without "Star Wars," and I lived in it. I don't remember much about those days, except that theaters were teeny-tiny and packed into shopping malls, movies were played in mono even if they were recorded in stereo, and the only pictures that qualified as "events" were Disney's periodic re-releases from its archives.

"Jaws" made a lot of money in 1975, but I wasn't allowed to see it. "Star Wars," which I saw in 1977 at the age of 10, was my first blockbuster.

Accordingly, I had no idea what to expect. My aunt drove me to the Edwards Fashion Island Cinemas in Newport Beach, Calif. known to locals as the "Big Newport" to see "Star Wars" on that theater's celebrated 40-by-80-foot screen. I don't remember my first time, but I remember my second clearly: It was like standing on a mountaintop. I didn't know movies could get that big or howl that loud.

I dug my fingers into the seat cushion every time a TIE fighter passed overhead, every time Han Solo fired his blaster into the back wall. From that point on, I was hooked. America was hooked. We wanted our movies to play like amusement parks and our local theaters to be big enough to contain every last twist and turn of the roller coaster.

I never grew out of that feeling, though I came to understand that small was good, too. I still get a "Star Wars"-like thrill every now and again, most recently from the Japanese animated film "Metropolis." I wanted the theater to grow to fit its skyscrapers and dirigibles, even though I was watching it from stadium seats in a good-sized theater equipped with George Lucas' THX sound system. The creator of "Star Wars," it seems, is an amusement park aficionado himself.

I say all this because I haven't gotten that "Star Wars" feeling from any "Star Wars" sequel since 1981's "The Empire Strikes Back," and Lucas has made three sequels since. I've enjoyed them, to be sure -- particularly "Attack of the Clones," which opens today -- but none of them have made my blood race the way "Star Wars" did.

Why? Is it because I haven't seen any of them at the Big Newport? Because I've become jaded by too many summer blockbusters? Because the films have all kind of stunk since "Empire?" (Thanks to "Clones," that's only partly true.) Or is it simply because I never made the leap to fanatic? Is such a thing possible?

It is. There are millions of people who saw "Star Wars" and thought it merely a movie, not a way of life. Even Lucas seems to have a hard time accepting that, which is probably why 1999's "The Phantom Menace" left so many viewers cold. It was supposed to be a movie, not communion. For us, the phenomenon faded with the end credits.

We didn't even feel strongly enough about "Phantom" to complain about it on Internet newsgroups; we simply felt no ownership. For some of us, "Star Wars" was an introduction to the potential of movies, and not an end in itself. We own no merchandise, wear no costumes, and we'll see the new movie after the lines subside a bit, thank you very much. It was a different kind of phenomenon for us -- not communal, but personal.

We appreciate the way Lucas exploded the filmmakers' vision to include the audience, the way an athlete plays to the crowd. We are his audience, but we want to stay on our side of the screen.

There will never be another experience like the original "Star Wars," sadly. Theaters are filled with movies that look just like Lucas' recent installments, and Lucas has even seen fit (unconsciously, one hopes) to crib ideas from some of them; the latest film has scenes reminiscent of "The Matrix," "The Fifth Element" and "A.I." We'll never know the feeling of sitting in a theater and being wholly, completely surprised. Even 10-year-old boys will see "Star Wars"-quality visuals on television before they see them in theaters.

To me, this familiarity makes any recent "Star Wars" mania seem phony and manufactured, as though Lucasfilm directed it itself, and I think it's harmful. It can only serve to steer away new viewers, daunted by the fanatics. I have a friend who's never seen "Star Wars" and never will because, in her words, "It looks like a cult from out here."

There is little I can say that will change the way anyone views "Attack of the Clones." Opinions are forming, and so are lines -- some since January.

What I wish I could do is drive to the Big Newport (after the lines have subsided, of course), take in an early evening showing of "Clones" and feel like I did in 1977, when the theater became a world. But I can never feel like that again, and probably couldn't even if I were 10 years old again. In changing the world, "Star Wars" also made the impossible familiar, and shrank my imagination a bit. It's going to take quite a big bang to expand it again.