We All Want To Play Han Solo

[bloodyrosemccoy]

National Hugging Day

Squirrel Appreciation Day

 

(Scene: The Fortress of Terror.  Liz and Amelia are watching Star Wars on Amelia’s new TV, marveling at the beauty and clarity of the picture.  We have just gotten to the scene where they are sneaking into Princess Leia’s cell block, and Chewie roars at the squeaky little battery droid.)

 

Liz: How did he manage to scare a droid?

 

Amelia: Maybe it had a self-preservation program.

 

Liz: Huh.

 

Amelia: Or maybe a mouse was driving it.  I don’t know.

 

Liz: Yeah, I like that idea.

 

I am extremely annoying to watch Star Wars movies with, because I’ve read quite a number of the expanded universe novels—up until the Corellian trilogy, when Han and Leia’s twins are about nine and just before they killed off Chewie and got Luke married to someone who had formerly appointed herself his archenemy.  I’m a fangirl of people whose names nobody else knows, including the ones that have achieved geek cult followings (Wedge Antilles and Jabba the Hutt, though I was never as fond of Boba Fett as other crazed geeks were) and those that haven’t but are badass anyway (Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and Yarna D'al Gargan*).  This means that throughout the movies I’m giving out dumb and pointless bits of trivia about things nobody cares about, like the names of the band in the cantina, Han Solo’s background, that Leia is the best shot and never misses, and how many people apparently were involved in getting the Death Star plans.**

 

I regret nothing.  My mom worried about my taste in books for a while, but they were fun and entertaining and imaginative, and a few even had some interesting philosophies in them.  Last summer I reread a bunch of them again, and for anyone who’s looking for some good pointless entertainment, I recommend the Han Solo trilogy by A.C. Crispin, which details Han’s life in the ten or so years before he meets Luke.  It captures his character beautifully, I think, and it gives a lot of insight into the way he acts in the movies.  It also has a bunch of stuff on the Hutts, who I think are one of my favorite species in the Star Wars universe.

 

And as another recommendation, anything that Kevin J. Anderson has been around is worthwhile.  The collections of short stories he edits are interesting, but I think my favorite of his is the Jedi Academy trilogy.  These are colorful and funny, and out of all the Star Wars books I’ve read, these seem to capture most closely the original feeling of the movies.  And that original feeling is, I think, the true genius of Star Wars.  I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again on here: the fantastic thing about the movies—the old ones—is that, while they followed mythic tropes and epic struggles, ethical dilemmas and the Path of the Hero and Campbell’s philosophies and a spirituality that, oddly enough, is closer to my Theory Of Everything than any actual religion’s, they never take themselves too seriously.  They’re still fun, they still have humor and adventure and cheesiness, and they know it.  You get the sense that even the characters who believe they’re fighting an epic battle for freedom suspect, deep down, that they’re comic book heroes, and they act accordingly.  That’s the main thing the prequels lacked, that impishness that managed to balance out the mythic power.  Without it they get a little too heavy-handed,*** and that destroys the reason everybody loves it so much.

 

Oddly enough, that’s how I treat life, too, and I’ve wondered before if it’s because of Star Wars—the closest I ever got to religion.  The Universe, I suspect, has a sense of humor, and so I live my life finding that humor.  It may be George Lucas’ fault.  So in at least one case, his attempt to create a modernized mythos totally succeeded.

 

Anyway, Anderson (remember him?) gets that across better than any other Star Wars author.  His books feature giant energy spiders, blob races, two-year-old Jedi twins, scuba diving, remote-controlled aliens, bureaucrats, brainwashed scientists, poison made of tiny robots, and hinted-at sexual tension between species—one between a human and a humanoid ethereal blue creature, and another between a fishdude and Leia’s superpowered human aide (which, diappointingly, never goes anywhere).  Also, Anderson doesn’t shy away from Look! Pretty! imagery, which is refreshing—sometimes I get tired of ugly planets.  What more could you want?

 

 

*The last of whom is better known as the ugly six-breasted fat dancer in Jabba’s palace.  A.C. Crispin writes a short story about her in Tales from Jabba’s Palace that showcases her as truly awesome and worth a look.

 

**From what I’ve pieced together from the various books, approximately 14,000.  This includes Princess Leia herself, her aide Winter (who also is awesome), Han Solo’s old girlfriend Bria, Admiral Ackbar, Bail Organa, etc., etc..

 

***Though Obi-Wan, of all people, was the closest they came to that humor—my siblings and I agree that his younger version is basically a postulate of If Han Solo Were A Jedi.  And you gotta admit, the Emperor sure had a good time in Episode III.  Ian McDiarmid had way too much fun in that role.