The Force Awakens, David*, and Unexpected Moments of Inspiration

(While this blog entry discusses my experience at the theater during Star Wars: The Force Awakens, there are absolutely NO references to what took place on the screen.)

* Name changed.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

I knew seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens in the theater with my oldest son would be a profound experience. We had never really talked about it, but I think we both thought of the original trilogy as "mine" and the prequels as "his" despite the fact the final one was released less than a year after he was born. I had ignored the latter until we watched them together on DVD, but by then he'd built up a significant base of knowledge through books and other media. The Force Awakens would be "ours" - we'd go enjoy the movie and have a great time! However, I knew going to the theater during opening weekend would be a challenge. After buying the tickets online I began mentally preparing myself for the possibilities - a long wait to get in, a packed theater and the possibility that we wouldn't be able to sit together, over-excited kids (my own included), over-excited adults (myself included), other rowdy attendants (although a 9:30am showing minimized the risk of drunken idiots), and excessive eating-related noise. Shortly after we joined the line at the door all of this and more would, in fact, happen. On the way to the theater we discussed that this was not going to be a normal experience and we needed to plan ahead for seating choice. We agreed on aisle seats toward the back, IF possible. Otherwise we'd start at the back and move forward as needed until we found two together. We were thrilled to see approximately twenty people in line when we joined it, and soon found out most of whom were actually there for the 10am 3-D Imax showing. HIGH FIVE! Some of the wind was taken out of our sails, though, as people began joining others in line ahead of us. Some were obviously part of a larger group and had sat in the car to stay warm (which doesn't bother me), while others played the game of "Oh hey! There's my buddy! Let's go chat with him for a minute before we get in line...(and then never actually move back.)" But a family of four trumped that when they approached the group (now at about sixty, with forty in front of us.) walked AROUND the group, and started a new line at a different door! Someone in front of us expressed an opinion of this action, and the younger male - who was dressed like non-hipsters THINK hipsters dress - yelled back, "they had two lines last night!" without looking up from his phone. A short while later a gentleman from the front of our line approached the patriarch of the family (who bore more than a passing resemblance to Carter Pewterschmidt from Family Guy) and I honestly thought they were going to come to blows. Cooler heads prevailed; the guy from our side seemed to give up when he noticed the lines were now almost the same length and rejoined his group. Finally the doors were unlocked and we made our way through the first set, past the box office, through the next set of doors, then to the line for our show. There were only ten people ahead of us! Within a minute our tickets were torn and we were in the theater. The back row was inexplicably full (where those people came from I have NO idea) but otherwise we had our choice of seats as long as we moved quickly. My son decided to stop at the second row, which consisted of a block of four seats on either end, then an elevated seat next to each block, and open area next to each of those, then two more elevated seats in the middle. (Only after the movie did we learn the elevated seats were marked 'handicapped only' on the back.) He selected the elevated seat after the first block of four with me immediately to his right. Another HIGH FIVE!

Overwhelmed by a combination of anticipation, enthusiasm, and exhaustion, we flopped into our seats. It was as if we'd just finished one roller coaster ride and were staying seated for another go. I'm pretty sure it was the first time either of us had exhaled since buying our tickets thirty-six hours prior. I have no idea how much time passed before I heard a female voice to my right excitedly say, "we're here, David! You can have a seat!" Speculating that David was probably around my son's age, maybe younger, I turned to see who my neighbors for the next three hours would be. David had his back to me and was slowly turning to take his seat. Standing to his right was the woman who had spoken. I guessed it was his mother. She was holding David's right arm with her left, and in her right hand was...a light saber? No, at second glance I realized it was a cane. I looked back at David, now seated, and noticed first a set of headphones in his left hand. I looked up. David looked to be in his mid-to-late 20s, and his eyes were closed. I breathed a quiet, selfish sigh of relief, first that David WASN'T a kid who might ask questions throughout the movie or become unruly, and second because if David was going to be listening to the narration via the headphones he would likely be lost in a galaxy far, far away and be the quietest person in the theater. He settled in, donned the headphones, and tuned in to the promotional videos being shown. Mom made a quick "we made it" phone call, then turned her attention to the woman to her right who I guessed was her daughter and David's sister. The ONLY break in that conversation from that moment until the movie started was when mom left to get cups of water. (Based on the conversation I determined that David was a huge Star Wars fan, mom decidedly was not and was only there for David's sake, and the other woman was familiar enough with the franchise to want to see the movie herself, but was primarily there for her brother and mother.) When she returned she tried to place David's in the cup holder to his right, but he insisted it go between the two of us. With a combination of experience and nervousness she said something along the lines of, "well, this gentleman might want to use that one." I gestured to my left and replied with a friendly, "no, that's fine. I don't have a drink and I have another cup holder over here if I need one." With that I hoped I had conveyed the notion that she could relax, not worry about the stranger to her son's right, and that we were all there to enjoy the movie and have a great time. I'm happy to report David got his way. Then the movie started. I looked at my son, he looked at me, we shared ear-to-ear grins and turned back to the screen. From my right I heard a surprised, "hmm...British?" I peered at David, who was still facing forward. Just after I turned back to the screen I heard, in the same exaggerated cockney accent we all use when trying to sound English, a satisfied, "hmmm...Brih-ish!" The film’s narrator earned David’s stamp of approval! Shortly thereafter mom whipped out her phone again. It filled our section with light, but it only took a few seconds to type whatever important text message she needed to send.

To offset the mild irritation I felt I made light of it in my mind – “she’s probably the one person in the world who could make the statement ‘the movie has started - can’t wait to see Captain Kirk and Doctor Spock!’ without doing so sarcastically.” As the movie progressed David and mom settled down, with the only noise being a one-or-two word reaction from David to events on the screen. Mildly annoying, but most were barely audible and all matched what I was thinking or feeling. The biggest drawback part is the narration didn’t quite match the events on-screen, so his reaction was often a half-second before or after everyone else’s and I missed a little dialogue here and there. And then the first conversation between David and mom took place. The two chatted for several seconds before mom opened her purse and pulled out a snack. I’m not sure if the item was homemade or store bought, but based on the noise level it was wrapped in the thickest cellophane legally allowed within the borders of the United States. Fortunately David made quick work of the snack; unfortunately he kept the wrapper in his hand for several minutes, occasionally crinkling or rolling it between his fingers. After about five minutes of this mom took it from him and replaced it in her purse. This, apparently, was cause for another text. As time passed there was a second conversation. And another snack. (This one unwrapped BEFORE being given to David.) And a check of the phone just in case there had been a response. And finally, about forty-five minutes into the movie, a third conversation. I’d had enough. Without moving my head I let out a stern “SERIOUSLY?!?” And I immediately regretted it. The conversation ended and the two settled back into their seats. Had mom heard me? Without turning my head I glanced to the side - both David and mom were focused on the movie. I looked at my son. No reaction. (He later informed me that he hadn’t heard me and had only heard a few of David's reactions and none of the conversations.) After a few minutes of silence David once again reacted to something on the screen with a couple of words. I breathed a second quiet, selfish sigh of relief. That's when it hit me. If it was 1977 and I was watching the original Star Wars, David wouldn't have been there. The technology he was using to enjoy the film has only existed for a few years. This was most likely David's first Star Wars theatrical experience, and I may have tainted it. Then the second punch landed. Most everyone knows my oldest son was born eleven weeks early and struggled through his first few weeks. Many of the technologies and medicines that saved his life were new. I don't think about that much now, almost twelve years later, but David reminded me. If it was 1977, my son wouldn't have been there either. Both were there because people had solved puzzles they had been presented and had enhanced the lives of others they'd never meet. I don't know how long I contemplated the entire situation, but it was another verbal reaction from David that brought my attention back to the movie. From that point on I allowed David to be my "voice"; people have always said I was a little off anyway, so the timing wasn't an issue. By the time the show ended David had enhanced my overall experience rather than taken away from it. We plan to see the movie again before it leaves theaters, and if David is there I know where I'll sit. That way I can make sure we all enjoy the movie and have a great time.