Last night I got to experience something very, very special, and not just because last night was the opening night of Star Wars, Episode One; The Phantom Menace in 3-D, the first of all of the iconic and much-loved Star Wars movies to be made this way. I'm sure countless fans around the world were joining us in midnight vigils at their local movie theatres, brandishing their prop lightsabers in anticipation and discussing which scenes they were most looking forward to, coming to life in a way they have always wanted to see. There were doubtless those who gathered in large groups, entirely in costumes so lifelike that they seem to have jumped right out of the screen itself, posing for pictures before setting themselves to the task of sitting in a theatre seat in full Imperial gear. I'm sure everyone had a fantastic time enjoying themselves. But let me take a moment to just tell you what made my particular night so special.
My wonderful husband, Jamie, has been a fan of Star Wars since he was a little kid. He has box after box of figurines, comic books, paperback and hardbound novels, both vintage and modern movie posters, and no fewer than 10 lightsabers, half of which are sans the blade so they can be worn on the belt as part of a costume. He was the first in his home town to get the Star Wars set on DVD, and on the subject of Star Wars was found to be the third most knowledgeable in the entire state of South Carolina, with the prize of a giant R2D2 cooler to prove it. He has pictures of himself with Peter Mayhew and Kenny Baker (Chewie and R2 to you), and can tell you at the drop of a hat what the name of the stormtrooper was who said 'Look sir; droids!' Hell, I didn't even know they HAD names, outside of TK-something-or-other.
But ever since he had moved out here to be with me, and sought the company of other Star Wars fans, he had found himself continually exposed to, pun intended, the dark side of the Star Wars fandom. Suddenly it didn't matter how much you loved your hand-crafted costume; if it did not meet their standards, then you could not be a part of their group. It didn't matter if you thought it'd be funny to wear a Vader helmet with a trench coat to a Star Wars get-together; you would be less demonized if you had decided to wear a slave Leia ensemble to a church service.....as a man. If you were a part of one group, then they saw no reason for you to be a part of theirs, and with all the snobbery of the most prestigious country club, they would turn their backs to you and make sure that you knew about all of the fun you were not privileged to join in on. Between people who should have been sharing a common interest, he saw fights exploding, friendships ending, and battles fought with all of the maturity of a scrap on the kindergarten playground; all that was missing was the exchange of raspberries.
This constant bickering and standardizing slowly begin to drain him of all of that which he had come to love. It wasn't any fun to be in a club where all they cared about was how well they looked for pictures, and with all of the other places arguing among themselves to where they couldn't even have a drama-free Star Wars movie night, there weren't many options left to him. His vision of Star Wars grew tainted; it only reminded him of all the bullshit he went through just to find a peer group after he had left all of his old friends behind to come and be with me. Last night, he was almost reluctant to go, and it made me feel sick inside as I remembered how passionate he had been about Star Wars when we had first met, and make no mistake I knew just who to blame.
We ourselves had not dressed particularly to the letter; Jamie only had a prop light saber and a Sith robe, and I had my hair in a long Leia braid with a baby Wookiee backpack that looked like I was carrying him piggy-back style, and a T-shirt that said 'Let the Wookiee win.' But we were met by people in similar outfits; one girl had just a Darth Vader helmet with plain clothes, and her friend beside her had home made armor made of real metal. And there was no talk of how shoddy anyone's costume was, only excitement in seeing the movie in 3-D. We all walked in together and roamed the lobby, talking and laughing and menacing people with our sabers until we could go inside our theatre. We had a wonderfully noisy crowd, when you could hear them at all above the buzzing of saber blades and the people imitating Wookiee calls to each other from across the room. People with their cell phones on were shouting out the time every 5 minutes, and everyone was preparing to enjoy themselves.
Less than 5 minutes before the movie was scheduled to start, an usher came in and said that the projector in our theatre and two others had just broken. They were getting someone out to fix them, but he assured us we WOULD see our movie and to please wait for about 10 minutes. You would think people would start complaining loudly or demanding compensation or that they have to work in the morning. But here at last we had found.....fans. People turned their phones to the flashlight app and used it in unison to make shadow puppets on the blank screen, large enough for just about anyone to bring up their hand and add to the fun. There were people calling each other out for saber battles, people trying to reenact the movie itself, people starting up chants of 'You say Jar Jar; I say Binks!'. which was rapidly followed by someone yelling 'sucks' instead of 'Binks', and then a short, good-natured hazing of the only outspoken Jar Jar fan present in the theatre (yours truly). Before any of us knew it, 45 minutes had gone by, and the usher reappeared to lead us all to another room, where the movie began in earnest and we all sat down where we had been in the previous one, and had one of the best nights a fan could have. At the end, everyone got a rain check ticket for their trouble, but all I ever did hear was how much everyone had loved the impromptu pre-movie show.
We both left in much higher spirits than we had when we had pulled into the parking lot, and I realized just why that was. We had gotten to spend our time with people who knew what it meant to be a real fan. A person with the most intricately detailed costume or even a part of the 501st Legion itself, is in the end no better a fan then the little boy who painstakingly carves his very own 'Dark Vader' helmet out of a bucket and uses a black towel for a cape. Dressing up and being part of a group may be fun, but when your entire scope of Star Wars becomes entangled with the worry that a little skin might show past your glove when you pose for a photo, or in the case of my husband, making a costume that he doesn't want just so his potential peer group will even consider him, then you begin to lose sight of what made you a fan in the first place. It's never about the costumes, or that you're with the group that gets the most publicity. When you enjoy Star Wars so much that you come for the MOVIE, not picture-taking or social status, but to surround yourself with more nerds who also risked coming out on a work night looking like they all got dressed in the dark in a Halloween store closet, just so they can see what they love so much, then you just might realize that your peer group is right in front of you; wherever the movie is. We might have missed out on some more prestigious costumed events, but last night we sat in the presence of the very SPIRIT of Star Wars.
We both can't wait for the next one to come out in 3-D. I've already made plans with our new metal-armored friend to show up in my full Jawa costume; between him and I, we're going to have all sorts of fun next time. Because that's what it's all about; having fun. And standing up for yourself; JAR JAR BINKS LIVES!!!!!
Rainey
a.k.a. Tinimee the Jawa
Alamoraine Community Member 
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