I remember that bright sunny afternoon in 1977 when Mom took us to see Star Wars. We were hooked and all but literally drug Dad to the theater that weekend. He became a fan too, and he didn’t like “space stories.” I own copies of the movies, and I’ve watched them enough over the years that I can all but run the lines. However, I was not prepared what last night.
In contrast to that summer afternoon thirty years ago. I’m having a moment of disbelief that it’s been thirty (3 – 0) years, but true to my M.O., I digress. For The One Man Star Wars Trilogy (http://www.onemanstarwars.com/fansite/home.php), it was a damp, dark, December night. Inside the Kentucky Center it was well lighted, warm, and filled with people – most of them not in costume. There were actors/characters there to give the feeling of the early days of the movie. None of the people I came across were stand out geeks; maybe those came later.
When I’d ordered my tickets on-line, I asked for “best available.” Last night I was seated at a table complete with cloth and tea light and five feet separating me from the stage. I could see the sweat on Charles Ross’ face as he moved across the stage in a fast paces show that took a comic look at the movies but still respected them and their fans. Without props, he wielded light sabers, flew in space ships, put his unconscious self inside a tauntaun, launched an Ewok, insurgent defensive and imperial offensive simultaneously, and brought peace to the galaxy far, far away.
I went to the after party to get his autograph. I got it – along with the defacement of his image on the program. The fangs were my idea, but the bangles, tattoo, etc. were straight from his mind, through his pen, to the program.
