Stab me with money
Hang on to your hats, folks. Your favorite Star Wars movie is forty years old and dang it, that dad-bod sequel has still got it. Back in the day when sequels weren’t as common, this trailblazer came along and swept Star Wars fans off their feet. Nice guy Splinter of the Mind’s Eye was waiting in the wings. That boy next door back up plan was handsome, but he just didn’t bring the sparks. Star Wars fans loved The Empire Strikes Back enough to marry it, and we’ve been in a happy relationship four decades since!
Movies that hold up for forty years are rare. Movies that are sequels and hold up for forty years are even more rare. Movies that belong to a billion dollar franchise with eight more films produced after the second, and are still considered the least disputed favorite and best among them, are simply unicorns. The Empire Strikes Back is a keeper.
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With all the kids in the family, there are bound to be scrapes and bruises. Empire is the glue that holds this family together. The only movie I’ve seen more times is Star Wars. Some of you know that one as Episode IV: A New Hope. I stopped counting after 137 times because at that point, you’re either bragging or embarrassing yourself. I prefer to do neither of those things.
What do you give someone for their fortieth birthday? Respect. You give them the praise they deserve for being a constant in your life. There is little about The Empire Strikes Back that can be picked on. There are a few items in the outtakes that were rightfully edited or removed altogether, but the finished product still shines (even before, or perhaps especially before, the Special Editions). The Empire Strikes Back is close to perfect, so I watched it again to find something… anything that might stand out as a dented helmet moment. I think I found something that’s never been commented on, but let’s put a pin in that.
For now, lets sing happy birthday and eat some cake. The room is decorated with some of the best movie posters of the franchise. There’s that one by Roger Kastel known as the Gone with the Wind poster. It was a composite poster made when films were theatrical events, a style developed long before we could nudge multiple subjects in Photoshop. It’s the one where Han is dipping Leia for a smooch. It wasn’t even something that made me want to throw up a little when I was a kid. I don’t even think we minded the spoiler. I might be a little glad that the revelation the two actors bumped uglies didn’t happen until later in life. Even as an adult, Carrie Fisher’s revelation in her book, The Princess Diarist, still feels a little like TMI. Tom Jung’s poster with a gesturing Vader hangs next to Kastel’s. Along the other wall are Ralph McQuarrie’s amazing concept paintings. Hoth, Dagobah, and Bespin were worlds that immediately belonged to that galaxy far, far way.
Seated at the head of the table, of course, is George Lucas. We’ll let him blow out the candles. Seated along side him are Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher. Billy Dee Williams stands next to David Prowse. He made a deal, but it keeps getting worse. When they pose for a picture, the old smoothie has to peek around Jeremy Bulloch so he can be seen. I see Anthony Daniels and Kenny Baker on the side over there. Peter Mayhew is begging for scraps from dinner plates that haven’t been cleared yet. Mark has Alec Guinness on a FaceTime call, but the room is so raucous no one else can see or hear him.
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Irvin Kirshner, Lawrence Kasdan, and Leigh Bracket are in the kitchen with Gary Kurtz counting candles and looking for a lighter. Phil Tippett and Industrial Light & Magic have them covered. The cake will walk in on its own and fire slices at everyone’s plate after we sing. John Williams gets us started, and somehow it’s the first and only rendition of “Happy Birthday” ever performed where no one is off key. Frank Oz takes the last piece before anyone else can grab it. “Mine! Or I will help you not!” he says. Everyone else is wondering what he’s talking about. Help us what? The Empire Strikes Back needs no help. Let Frank have that last piece. No one sees him leave the room with it. He’s giving the last piece of cake to an adorable little puppet with no name. This little one’s totally worth the effort.
Yes, it’s been forty years since the original theatrical release of the greatest Star Wars film ever produced. The bar was set in orbit and the cash cow still hasn’t managed to jump over that moon. Your cue, Alec.
All right, here’s the thing I found I never noticed before. It’s a spec on your jacket. One that doesn’t even matter. No one notices until you point it out. It’s actually something that doesn’t even have to be considered a mistake, though I found it quite charming to see it happen. During the duel between father and son (by the way, whether Vader was lying or telling the truth was debated for three years), there’s a heavy wind in the chasm at the base of Cloud City. When Vader is reaching out to the Emperor’s prize, he’s considering dropping some life-altering news on the boy. “Hey kid, I know I just chopped off your hand, but that shoulder blow was a stinger. Funny thing is, that chip off the old block you just gave me is an oddly appropriate wound. Turns out you’re my kid! What do you say we rule this galaxy together?” That moment. Remember that moment? No? Well, it was before the tweaked versions. In that moment, the wind is rattling Vader’s helmet in a way that takes away the illusion of weight. It’s sort of flapping like a wind sock on a fast moving sailboat. In that moment, I remembered the helmet is probably pretty light and held on with Velcro. That’s the best I’ve got. And I don’t even have that. Velcro is a space age material.
From the end of an age when practical effects and stop motion were common, Empire required next to nothing in its update for new generations. The worst effect from the Empire Strikes Back is the argument over how to pronounce AT-AT. It’s at-at, by the way, not ay-tee, ay-tee. Get off my lawn and shovel my driveway for five bucks. Empire is not over the hill yet, and it can still kick your ass.
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Stab me with money
