A few weeks ago, Scott and I sat down and watched Star Wars, which I understand is often referred to as A New Hope, but that’s a much worse title, so we’re sticking with the original. Neither of us are Star Wars People. I love a good space opera or sci-fi yarn — I’ve been particularly enamored with my second playthrough of the Mass Effect series lately — but the Star Wars series wasn’t a part of my upbringing, and I never really got around to truly appreciating it. It didn’t help that the prequels were my main exposure to the franchise. So when everyone started talking about the JJ Abrams-helmed return to a galaxy far, far away, I didn’t feel much more than cautious optimism. If nothing else, I figured, it would make a lot of people very happy to see the legacy trio onscreen again, to revisit a world populated by countless alien races and adorable droids and plucky heroes and fearsome villains. Maybe I’d see it in the theater. Maybe not.
Over time, unsurprisingly, my cautious optimism evolved into genuine excitement. By the time the movie had been out for a week, it felt as though everyone I know had seen it, and they’d uniformly enjoyed it. Any indifference I had toward seeing it faded away, and yesterday, I bit the bullet along with Scott and some of our closest friends.
Relative strangers to the franchise have nothing to worry about when it comes to informed viewing. This isn’t a reboot, but it is a new story, one that’s fairly straightforward and captivating from the start. The seamless combination of old characters and new, the airtight script, and the galaxy-hopping story arc provide an easy entry into the mythology, and there’s something for everyone to latch onto, be it the most adorable droid the world’s ever seen, the soaring John Williams score, or the first time you see the Force in action. What — or who, more accurately — I latched onto was Finn (John Boyega). In a sea of well-crafted characters (and OK, I have a soft spot for Oscar Isaac like every other person on the Internet, and Poe was as good a charming rogue as they come), the reformed stormtrooper who rejects his finely honed, totally impersonal moral compass for the sake of a group of rebels he’s never met, was the one I rooted for, the one who made me smile or cry or both every time he showed up onscreen. (I cried a lot, actually. Usually over lightsabers, which doesn’t even make sense. I contain multitudes.)
Am I a Star Wars Person now? No, not really. I’m not going to defend the prequels or read EU novels. (I would also list “buy memorabilia” there but I already ordered my Finn Funko Pop Vinyl, so there goes that.) But as Scott put it after the movie, I get it now. I get why people love this franchise, why it was an important part of their childhood, why their affection will never fade away. I’m not one of you, but I get you, man, and I will gladly eat popcorn with you again at Rogue One.