Will Write for Attention

felicityI don’t remember how old I was when I first saw Star Wars: A New Hope. The film came out the year I was born, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t catch it at the theater. All I remember is an image from my early childhood, a procession of characters down an aisle toward a princess on our TV screen. Even though they didn’t give Chewie a medal, and despite (or maybe because of–I’m still deciding) the existence of Ewoks, I was hooked on these stories populated by characters who were at once iconic and accessible: a peerless warrior packaged as an insecure loner with daddy (and sister) issues. A princess who kicks ass. Or–perhaps my favorite, save old Chewie–a sarcastic smuggler with a beating heart buried underneath all that cynicism (and carbonite). I found something of myself in each of these people. Plus: the music.

felicityWhen I heard that J.J. Abrams would be directing Episode VII, I’m pretty sure I teared up. I’ve been a fan of his work since Felicity, a television drama so poignant that most of my college roommates refused to join my viewing parties because “it’s so hard to watch when she just embarrasses herself every week.” I nodded in faux agreement, knowing I would remain loyal as long as the show aired because I was Felicity: that awkward coed looking for love and coming up empty-handed so much of the time. As far as I was concerned, J.J. Abrams could do no wrong. (Even when Felicity time traveled. Ouch.)

My husband and I saw The Force Awakens on December 26–historically, the most depressing day of the year for me. We ventured to a new outdoor shopping center named First World Utopia or something–the kind of place with music gently playing from artfully hidden eco-speakers and fragrances wafting out of storefronts. It felt like a polished alter-ego of our lazy Sunday mornings in New York, when we’d hit our neighborhood bagel shop and watch a half-priced flick at the local theater. In this version, though, there was no poop on the sidewalk (that would be waiting for us at home with the kids); there were no panhandlers asking for change. All the grit had been scrubbed away in favor of Anthropologie, J Crew, and a theater with leather recliners. For us, two kids in and months devoid of movie outings, it was so much easier than real life.

I’d heard about the character of Finn prior to seeing the film and was already intrigued by the idea of a renegade Storm Trooper. What I didn’t expect was that we would actually witness his transformation on screen. I also didn’t expect him to be the character with whom I identified most.

Read the rest over at Mockingbird!

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