I was ten when Star Wars changed the world in 1977. This film was special to me for multiple reasons. It was a movie my Dad and I went to see, just us: two blokes going to a real he-man film with violence, monsters, spaceships, aliens, villains, heroes, a damsel in distress, and droids: all cavorting around galaxies galore. Moreover, it was decreed that I was old enough to take a friend to see a matinee of the film without an adult escort! There was a movie house the next town over that showed matinees at half-price, so off we went to see my new favorite film again, and again, and again (just keep repeating that about a dozen more times). All in all, I saw the movie ten times in the space of one month and a half-dozen more in the next. I cheered Han Solo and Chewbacca, booed Darth Vader, fell madly in love with Princess Leia, thought the only cool thing about Luke Skywalker was his name, endured C-3PO, and adored R2-D2. It’s still my favorite despite the seventeen hundred or so follow-ups, adaptations, and retreads. To this day, I refuse to call it by its revised name: Star Wars IV: A New Hope.
The movie’s biggest impact on me as an adult is the music, masterly crafted by John Williams. One can thrill to the anthem-like “Star Wars Main Theme,” swoon at Princess Leia’s motif, jive to “Cantina Band,” hide behind the couch during “The Imperial March” (Darth Vader’s T
