Thursday, May 16, 2002 | 8:31 a.m.
Father's Day 1977. A seafood restaurant in Orange County, Calif.
At some point during the meal, my dad announces he is taking the family (myself and my stepmom) to the movies as a Father's Day present to himself some sorta space movie.
Although I was pouting because we were not going to a Disney flick featuring a talking car and/or Don Knotts and Tim Conway, my father assured me I would enjoy this movie.
"Trust me. You're going to love it," he said.
The movie, of course, was "Star Wars" later retitled "Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope." And now, nearly 25 years since that day and as the latest installment "Star Wars: Episode II Attack of the Clones" opened nationwide today, I realize how wrong my dad was.
I don't love "Star Wars." I don't even like it.
I relish it.
I believe in it. Not literally, but rather in the cinematic power it had on me as a 7-year-old.
Until then, Disney films, along with a few sci-fi and monster flicks ("Logan's Run," "Planet of the Apes," "King Kong") were the only movies that had much of an impact on me.
But "Star Wars" changed all that. From the moment I saw the Rebel Blockade Runner battling the Imperial Star Destroyer over the planet Tatooine in the opening sequence, I witnessed with glazed eyes and pounding heart what a movie could do and the power a piece of celluloid could have on the imagination.
I was, for lack of a better term, a "Star Wars" convert.
I've since read all manner of accounts from fanboys (read: geeks) who have explained the everlasting impact the series had on them as they grew up.
Long before the summer-event movie was drained of any novelty or impact by a glut of major-studio releases, there was the "Star Wars" trilogy: "A New Hope," "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi." These films were released in three-year intervals -- 1977, 1980, 1983 -- and were not available on video or broadcast on TV until much later.
Without the Internet to spread rumors and ruin the fun with spoiler-filled reviews months before the films saw the light of a public release, fans of the movie waited and discussed the possible exploits:
How would the heroic Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Princess Leia and their Rebel Alliance prevail in their attempts to defeat the villainous Emperor, his apprentice Darth Vader and the evil Empire they control?
No one knew which direction "Star Wars" creator George Lucas was going to take with his series. And oddly enough, that made the wait more tantalizing.
There was the surprise climatic revelation of Vader to Luke in "Empire" ("I ... am your father."). And the three-year wait for "Jedi" to hit the theaters to learn its veracity was nearly unbearable.
Of course, even the most ardent fan will admit the series has lost some of its momentum. The cuddly ewoks in "Jedi" seemed too cute to be anything more than a marketing ploy to sell merchandise.
And the almost universally loathed Jar Jar Binks from the first prequel to the saga, "Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace," was even worse than the ewoks, migrating from cloyingly cute to patently offensive.
So if we, the fans, know the "Star Wars" films aren't perfect, why do we care so much?
Simple: the power of cinema, mythology and childhood imagination.
Movies have surpassed live theater as our communal experience. It is a chance for everyone to come together and share a moment, a common link.
And rarely in movies are you going to find that bond more than in a "Star Wars" film, where fanboys and casual admirers alike come together to be escorted out of this time and place to another a "long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ...." for two-plus hours.
I'm not calling viewing "Star Wars" movies a life-changing or even a religious experience, because I have no desire to devalue either by comparing them to the simplicity of watching a movie. But watching "Star Wars" on the big screen, in an auditorium full of true fans, is a wonderful experience, rivaled by few, if any, other movie moments. There is something about being surrounded by true fans of the films, who both understand and appreciate the series as no one else.
It is not from repeating the lines of dialogue or shouting to the screen what is the name of an incidental alien character seen for all of one second. Rather it is the applause of the beginning of the movie as the 20th Century Fox logo and theme appears. It is the collective gasps and joyful hollers as an action sequence kicks into full motion. It is the shrieks of joy and high energy when the films end.
Try finding that at "Men in Black II," "Minority Report" or any of the other big releases this summer.
The popularity of "Star Wars" also stems from its mythological roots. Despite the special effects and wondrous sights, "Star Wars" is at heart, a morality tale; a simple story of good versus evil that is chock-full of archetypes: wistful hero, wise mentor, damsel in distress, rogue hero and all-powerful villains.
Other than its inter-galatic setting, in many ways, the original trilogy mirrors Homer's "The Odyssey."
Just as Odysseus struggled in his booklong quest to return home, facing all manner of obstacles, monsters and villains and heartache along the way, Luke meets similar challenges in his quest. He struggled to bring freedom to his galaxy, and experienced definite heartache while overcoming near-impossible odds in his battle against the Empire, alien monsters and masked villains.
And the prequels are setting themselves up nicely as the "The Iliad" to "The Odyssey," giving a history to the characters, and a plot heavy on politics, greed, covert manipulation, and the complexities and tragedies intertwined with heroism.
If there is any question as to the lasting appeal of "Star Wars," consider this: Homer's works of mythology have survived more than 3,000 years.
Finally, there is the lasting impression these movies had on most "Star Wars" fans as children. Talk to most any fanboy -- or fangirl -- and they can tell you their feelings after seeing "Star Wars" for the first time.
Of course, there are reasonable limits to what a majority of fans will go to, and through, for "Star Wars."
Most "Star Wars" fans blend with society and, contrary to popular opinion and media scrutiny, didn't take off work for six months to wait in line for "Clones."
And I can assure you, most fans will be dressed in normal attire while waiting in line, and not wearing a Darth Vader costume, Yoda mask, or sporting the Princess Leia bun 'do from the original film.
Not that we knock those who do -- OK, we might snicker a bit -- because we realize we are all there for the same reason: the love of a film.
We are simply asking others for the same courtesy.
But for those who cannot get past this devotion, and feel the need to point and laugh, at least consider this before you pass judgement:
It could be worse.
We could be standing in line for "Battlestar Galactica: The Movie."
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