Lucasian chair of theatrics
by Jon Worley

Unlike many of my cohorts, I read Star Wars (the book) before I saw the movie. But I did see it, the spring after its release, at the Granada Theater in Lawrence, Kan. It was a rainy night. The memory of that evening is particularly vivid for me because on our way home, my dad and I saw the result of a fatal hit-and-run.

I saw Star Wars again sometime later, in a drive-in as a double feature with Close Encounters. Not to mention the many hours spent viewing the bootleg videotape our neighbor Lee in Kansas City had managed to appropriate in 1979. At that time, tapes only ran an hour long, and he had to switch tapes during the Chewie-R2D2 space chess match on the Millenium Falcon. While Lee was almost always happy to let us watch the videos, he never quite explained how he appropriated the tapes.

Add viewings of the annual trilogy showcase (in very inglorious 16mm) at college and countless revamps on video, and I've probably seen Star Wars 20 or 30 times. Low on the totem pole of true aficionados, I know. But still, not a bad track record.

And yes, I went and saw Star Wars last weekend. Despite owning the THX-enhanced letterbox version of the trilogy on videotape (my favorite wedding present) , the amazing reconstructive work done on the film still struck me. The sound boomed, the colors flared, the acting, well, still stunk. But who cares? It was indeed fun to see this cultural touchstone in the theater once again.

The theater. That's the real special part of this re-release. I like video, and I own quite a few movies. It's nice to hunker down with a beer and some pita and hummus to peruse Reservoir Dogs or Pump Up the Volume. But for an experience like Star Wars, well, the only venue that does the grandeur justice is the theater. And luckily for my generation, we've rediscovered that vital cultural link.

Despite the lack of black characters in Star Wars (though I noticed quite a few black extras added in the "Special Edition") and the outcry that brought in its original release, a significant number of patrons at my theater were black. Not just here and there, but probably a quarter of the audience. Star Wars really is one of those movies that pretty much touched everyone, across racial, economic and even religious backgrounds.

And we still have those today. Most of the people my age and younger saw at least two of the big summer blockbusters last year. Most likely to top that list were obviously Independence Day and Twister, but Mission: Impossible, The Nutty Professor and The Rock also hit the list. I'm not making the claim that these were great movies (of that list, only The Nutty Professor even comes close), but they provide a common subtext, a generational cultural literacy, if you will.

My parents (and most people over 35 in general) don't go to the movies nearly as much as younger people. Some of this has to do with available time, family commitments, etc., but a lot of it has to do with primal emotions. "In my day it cost a nickel (or a dime, or a quarter) to see a movie. I'm not paying six dollars to see the stuff they call movies today."

This economic shift in the price of movies is indisputable. I'm not sure what the average rate of inflation over the last 40 years is, but I'll guess that it's somewhere around 7 percent (probably high, but why not be conservative?). At that rate, we've had 1,400 percent total inflation (hmm, that does sound a bit high) over that time. And guess what, if movies cost a quarter in 1957 (which is what one of my sources claims), then they should cost $3.50 today. The average price today is twice that. And the older folks use that simple fact to skip out on today's films.

Yes, the marketing of movies has changed. No longer is a massive domestic gross necessary to make back a huge budget. There's overseas grosses, videotape sales, cross-marketing schemes. And while this has left the summer a wasteland of disaster flicks, it has also allowed a large group of creative filmmakers the freedom to make truly great movies. When Robert Townsend made The Hollywood Shuffle years ago, people were amazed that he could make such a good movie on a million bucks. And then make a fortune when someone picked it up. Same goes for Michael Moore and Roger and Me.

If you can come up with that essential half-mil or million dollars, and you make a decent and original movie, when you sell it to a video distributor you can make your whole nut back and then some. And if you really want to score, then make ten prints and run your film around the art house circuit. In large cities there are as many as 50 screens showing independent works. In the Tampa Bay area, there are usually about ten small pictures showing somewhere. This isn't big money, but it's a decent living.

And the people who go see these small movies are folks my age. Unlike the generation that preceded us, we got on the movie boat in a big way (with Star Wars, or maybe Jaws or the first two Godfathers) and haven't let go. And while I watched Harrison Ford abuse throwaway line after throwaway line, that's what I thought about. It's just so cool to lose yourself in a movie.

Jon Worley and his brothers collected the entire first run of 78 Star Wars figures. Unlike the money whore collectors, they played with them, thus reducing their monetary value. Of course, that has nothing to do with their real value.

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