Star Wars

I dislike nostalgia. I’m never sure where looking back gets any of us. Very little gets me dewy-eyed about the past.

But there I was, in Vue, Hull, as the opening titles of Star Wars: The Last Jedi crawled in that familiar way, and I couldn’t help thinking of that time, in 1977, when I turned to look at my dad as the X-Wing Starfighters leading the Rebel Assault on the Death Star went on their dizzying trench run only to see he’d fallen fast asleep. He was 46. I was 11. 11 years of being my dad had taken its toll so who could blame him for taking the opportunity for a nap; the Empire could be defeated without him and he looked very comfortable leaving me in the capable hands of Luke Skywalker. Besides, we were in the safe and secure surroundings of Hull’s Dorchester Cinema, an 1800+ seat barn of a place, a cinematic Millennium Falcon, all faded-glory, dusty, smokey and specially re-opened for the occasion (it had closed earlier the same year) and not the kind of place where Darth Vader was going to rock up.

Back in Vue and the nostalgic wave continued throughout the next 2 hours and 33 minutes. I was struggling to calculate whether I was the same age my dad was back in 1977 (I’m not, I’m older), then I got caught up thinking that Luke, or rather Mark Hamill, might be that age (he’s not, he’s older than me), which would have been romantically convenient.

But there was some synchronicity; we’d taken an 11-year-old with us who happens to share a name with my dad. Roles reversed, I wondered if there’d be enough going on on screen to keep me awake so that his overbearing memory in 40 years wouldn’t be me dropping off mid-Haribo. I pretty much gave up on Star Wars after Return of the Jedi, have only glimpsed Episodes I-III on DVD out of the corner of my eye and was underwhelmed by The Force Awakens. Still, I needn’t have worried. I loved every second of The Last Jedi. The complexity of it all, the inventiveness, the fine plot, the new aliens, the endless convenient ways out of tricky situations, the SFX, the wit and humour, Carrie Fisher’s fine swansong, the return of Luke, Snoke’s rather pathetic and simplistic end (#spoiler – cut him in half!). This is Star Wars as it was meant to be; as it was 40 years ago; as George Lucas intended. It’s so watchable, enjoyable and in parts thrilling that my dad would have slept through the bloody lot.