The Empire Strikes Back

A New Hope
George Lucas finally sold the rights to “Star Wars” and LucasFilm Ltd. to Disney for $4.05 billion.

Since the deal was made, movie blogs and entertainment sites have been tripping over themselves to wring out every last bit of information about the new movies. Did Harrison Ford demand Han Solo’s death in the next movie? Is he even in it? What about Luke Skywalker? Is he the new Yoda?

We’ll be talking about plot what-ifs and dream directors endlessly until we get official announcements. This is the movie industry’s Second Coming. A new hope for “Star Wars” movies. A chance to wipe the prequel mtrilogy taste out of our collective mouth. Another trip to a galaxy far, far away.

It makes sense.

“Star Wars” is the major motion picture event of the 20th century.

Everyone from casual fans to Expanded Universe geeks have half-dreaded and half-dreamed of the possibility of more “Star Wars” movies.

We wouldn’t be worried if we realized a few things about the franchise.

The Revenge of the Nerd
“Star Wars” isn’t sacred. I thought it was when I was a kid.

I attended the 1997 theatrical re-releases of the original trilogy multiple times. I watched the VHS box set at home in a perpetual marathon. I filled pages and pages of printer paper with epic dogfights between X-wings and TIE fighters.

Boba Fett and Slave-I? The Sarlacc battle? The Force? All of it was the coolest thing ever.

Guess what? So was the prequel trilogy. “Episode I: The Phantom Menace” had podracing, doublesided lightsabers and destroyer droids.

I didn’t notice the miserly Jew Watto or primitive Gungan Others or the piss-poor writing, but I did notice how much it felt like a whole new world.

I was convinced all of it was perfect.

I was a wide-eyed kid infatuated with this huge, impossible universe that showed off amazing technology and fantastic worlds.

As I grew up, I became more critical of the new movies with their convoluted plots and horrible characterizations, but I never lost excitement about each new installment.

It was still “Star Wars,” no matter what detractors said.

Looking back at the original trilogy, I realize the writing was always clunky, the acting was always stilted and the awesome setpieces were always the main draw.

We don’t love “Star Wars” because it makes us think.

We love “Star Wars” because it makes us feel good. The good guys win, the bad guys lose and a bunch of stuff we haven’t seen before lights up and teases our imaginations.

“Star Wars” is the epitome of style. It is technical visual stimulation used to tell big melodramatic stories that don’t force us to challenge ourselves or our material situations critically.

It isn’t pure, innocent cinema. It is the ultimate in cool, sellable style. That’s why Disney is so perfect for the job.

The Empire Strikes Back
When the Disney-Lucasfilm deal broke, I could almost hear Mickey Mouse say, “I have you now” with his target on my wallet.

Anyone convinced that the new “Star Wars” movies won’t compare to the originals is either caught up in nostalgia or ignorant of the culture industry.

No one does perfectly calculated fan service better than Disney.

Did you see “The Avengers”?

It was like my childhood dreams were being played out on the big screen.

Disney hired geek overlord Joss Whedon to helm the production, poured tons of money into the special effects and created the biggest, best, most fun comic book movie I can imagine.

And it made them enough money to buy, well, “Star Wars.”

Disney invests scary amounts of time and resources into figuring out what sells tickets. You don’t think they’ll figure out exactly how to cater to us “Star Wars” nerds?

It’s going to be everything we hoped for.

Disney is executing some Empire-level megacorporate capitalism here, and all I can do is smile. I feel excited about the sequel trilogy. We get to experience the flawless style of “Star Wars” once again.

Search your feelings — you know it’ll be great, too.

Besides, the “Star Wars” universe was always too expansive (and far too lucrative) to be left alone for long. I’m glad it’s in the gloved hands of Darth Mickey.