I’ve been reluctant to try and set my thoughts down on paper
about the ending of the Skywalker Dysfunctional Family Drama, also known
colloquially as The Star Wars Saga. I knew I would need to write about it, but
I didn’t have any idea how I was going to get into it. Then a funny thing
happened as I was recovering from my surgical procedure; I realized we were at
the Fin-de-Siecle of sorts.
After all, it’s not every year that several major franchises
wrap up long-time over-arching storylines, is it? We didn’t really celebrate
the actual 21st century event horizon, since we were all too busy making sure
Y2K didn’t happen. And then 2001 sucked all of the oxygen out of the room and,
without getting off on a tangent, knocked us back into the 1980s in a lot of
ways that we are only now seeing come to light.
All of the last 20 years feels like a virtual reality
simulator designed by Cold War scientists to simulate what the Matrix was
trying to provide us with; a reality fraught with strife, held together with
flashes of popular culture, and an ever-expanding arsenal of shitty things to
react to so that we stay miserable and jaded.
It’s fitting, really, that the last six movies in the Star
Wars saga should be completed during these dark times.
