Several months ago, during an advanced screening of “Monster’s Inc.,” I was lucky enough to catch what was then the latest trailer for “Star Wars 2: Attack of the Clones.” My movie-going friend and I were overcome with childlike giddiness as we watched the Lucas Films logo materialize on screen — we knew what we were about to see.
Our delight soon turned to absolute fear as a familiar and spine-tingling-ly terrifying sound overtook the Dolby speakers. The deep, rhythmic and mechanical breathing of Lord Vader was the only soundtrack to the images presented before our now-wet pants. There we were, adults by all definitions, and scared shitless by a mere — and might I add, fictional — noise.
Minutes went by with the sights of “Episode Two” set only to the sound of Darth’s inhaling and exhaling. Then, a few rows back, some snotty-nosed brat — fresh into the age of double digits — referred to the hypnotic and horrifying breathing in an oh-so-sarcastic tone by saying, “Okay, that’s getting annoying.”
Forget the fact that this punk should have observed the traditional quiet of a movie theater and the honorary silence a “Star Wars” trailer deserves, (although the neglect of both sheds a little light on today’s movie-going teens), but the very comment was as disappointing as it was offensive.
I grew up watching Luke, Han and Leia fight the Empire onscreen. I also spent a good portion of my afternoons reenacting the battles with my own Rebel Fleets in the back yard with my own “force” — a string tied to whatever I wanted to move. The sound of Vader’s breath when heard on my television sent me running to the nearest lap and the echo in my head had me sleeping with the lights on.
How dare this Johnny-Spoiled-Butt disrespect all I have ever known to be truly wonderful about cinema. All the magic, wonder and surprise I had nurtured my filmic mind on — the spectacular heroes, the fantastic villains and the amazing journeys — were completely lost on this Pokemon-loving, consumerism-driven, heartless, unimaginative middle schooler.
But what it his fault? Movies these days that cater to the 15-and-under crowd are choosing product potential over provoking imagination. “Pokemon,” “Jimmy Neutron,” and even Disney is getting in on the act with its flood of sequels that will be released in the next few months.
A quick pic makes a quick buck and loses lots of magic in the meantime. It’s creating a fleet of zombie-like movie watching pip-squeeks with few heroes to identify with, little story to become entranced in, and very little imagination. We have more kids who want to grow up and sell light sabers than who want to use them.
Now, there have been a few movies that have bucked this trend. Wiz-kid Harry Potter has stirred a few young minds — even if it were with the help of their very own broomstick going for $50 at the neighborhood F.A.O. Yet, while it has to be said that this was a more respectable route via his books, the fact that last November, as lights dimmed in theaters, young eyes lit up for the first time in a long, long time. “Spy Kids” had similar success last spring. And “The Lord of the Rings,” although for a slightly older crowd, is the perfect combination of fantasy, imagination and cinema.
Even Old Skool filmmakers are doing their part to get kids tapping their meds less and their minds more. George Lucas — with his initial re-release of the “Star Wars” trilogy coupled with his newer offerings — is uniting the generations around a big-screen and a bucket of popcorn.
Steven Spielberg gets semi-props for his 20th Anniversary release of “E.T.” — another film and subsequent role-playing activities of my youth. His additions and “fix-ups” may have taken away the raw charm and initial magic of the film, but if it helped little Hunter and McKenzie feel the emotion between Elliot and E.T., then it was worth it. The same goes for commercial sponsorship. I was skeptical at first that E.T. would be doing spots next to Carrot Top urging people to “Phone home … collect,” but luckily the endorsements have remained with respectable products like toys and candy.
You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have…the facts of children’s cinema. It’s not 1980 anymore, I can accept that. I can accept that you need more than good characters and a compelling story to make magic. A few Nintendo games, some dolls and a candy bar in the shape of our hero’s head sure helps.
What I cannot accept is the manufacturing of shoddy films with little heart as a first step in the marketing machine that is a child’s icon. In my mind, a cinematic hero must first slay a few Storm Troopers, or make a bike fly in the night sky before he or she can be put on a t-shirt.
