The Lasting Appeal of the Star Wars Saga

It's been some thirty odd years since the first Star Wars movie premiered, but Star Wars' place in our culture is as vibrant and thriving as ever.  So much so, that it even gets to be kind of irritating at times, especially its proliferation among faux nerds.  In this internet age, everyone feels that they need at least a modicum of nerd credibility, just enough to come off as smart, quirky and interesting, but not so much that you come off as a socially inept, spastic dweeb, popping their zits in a lonely, subterranean room that smells of dirty socks and old cheese.  Star Wars provides the proper pinch without the danger of overdose.  A few well placed references to Boba Fett, an opinion concerning Han & Gredo, and a liberal amount of tongue-in-cheek philosophical debate about the saga's plot dynamics, and you're accepted as one of the "cool" nerds.  It all gets a little old at times.

Courtesy of Andres Rueda

Fortunately, it isn't all about hip references and ironic analysis.  There is a far more genuine reason that Star Wars has a fan base that spans multiple generations.  It answers a question so basic, that we might not have even realized we were asking it: Can spirituality survive the advance of technology?  And the wonderful thing about it is that it answers this question, not as a matter of abstract proposition, not as speculation or theme, but by providing a genuine demonstration of the possibility.  It gives us a futuristic vision which resonates with a mystical sense of our own past, a galactic civilization from "a long, long time ago."

But the real achievement of Star Wars is in more than just the concept.  It's in the details.  It combined these contrasting elements, past and future, myth and technology, at such a fundamental level that these things grow up together out of the story's universe blended and practically indistinguishable.  This is absolutely crucial to the effect.  If the mythology had been superficially overlaid, or if it hadn't worked in such a creative and esthetic manner, it would have completely undermined the thesis, rather than supporting it.  One fatal misstep, and it all could have easily ended up as "swords & sorcerers in space."  That Lucas was able to avoid this, is something of a small miracle.  He created something... believable, if such a word can apply here.  Not believable in terms of realism, but believable as a fantasy that the audience could invest with depth and meaning and emotion.  We don't believe in the plausibility of the story or the universe of Star Wars.  Instead, we are convinced and compelled by what its vision represents: a mythology for the space age.

Perhaps more than any other element in the Star Wars universe, the light saber perfectly embodies this paradigm.  If the story had featured sword-play involving traditional swords of silver and steel, the mystique of the entire saga would have collapsed, unraveled, and ultimately fallen flat on its face.  It would have turned the whole thing into a completely incompatible farce that no one could take seriously.  The light saber neatly resolved this problem.  It carries the mythical weight of the story, while at the same time being an intriguing piece of technical hardware.  We wonder: How does it work?  Where can I get my hands on one?

Much of the Star Wars universe is composed of these sorts of plunderings from human history, everything from classic cars to Nazi paraphernalia.  These things are treated with that same flawlessly intuitive touch as the light saber.  Every element is tied into the fundamental foundation of Star Wars' unique vision, so that it seems unmistakably of that world and yet it also resonates as something recognizable on an almost sub-conscious level.  It exploits these emotional cues to provide texture and depth, while bringing us out onto a broader stage of advanced technology and wonder among the stars.  It engenders a confused state of mind, rebounding between the distant past and the distant future until the line between them blurs.  This is the special magic that it generates.  It makes you forget the impracticality of the Imperial Walkers or gunner turrets to fight space battles.  It all exists outside of time, somewhere where it all makes sense.

And finally, this brings us to The Force, which is at the core of the story as well as the overall concept of the films.  The Force is the abstract companion to the light saber.  It draws on our religious and spiritual foundations in a general way, and yet it feels completely at home on a grand galactic stage.  It is simple, and yet expansive and enchanting.  It carries an air of the deep and the profound, even though it is provided very little of substance.  But that's how we prefer it.  Giving more detail about The Force just demystifies it, as anyone who's heard the word "midichlorian" will quite readily testify.  We aren't looking for further elaboration.  The Force is a stand-in for that feeling of awe and reverence, magic and mysticism.  It's that thing that we fear to lose when we worry that we might dehumanize ourselves inch by inch with our own technology.  In the end Star Wars appeals to us because it shows us a galaxy where it does endure, beyond hyperspace, beyond Death Stars and droids.

I could go into the reasons George Lucas' return to this material years later proved to be such a disaster, but I think I've said enough for one day.  There's plenty more that could be said about Star Wars, and one of these days I'll get around to saying it.  For now, if you don't find that my treatment of the saga's appeal really captures the essence of your feeling towards it, if you find it all a little too ponderous and complicated...well, then allow me to offer this alternate explanation: