WHO YOU CALLIN' A DORK?
Musings by The Ferrett
It has been said that if the world of music truly came down to one battle — call it Ragnarockandroll — we’d be down to Elvis fans and Beatles fans, fighting for their lives on a gigantic battlefield.
I kind of picture it like in Braveheart — swarms of mod Beatles fans, dressed in psychedelia garb, charging down the hill with bloodlust in their eyes, shouting "Strawberry Fields! Strawberry Fields forever!" And meanwhile, the Elvis fans, holding their ground down farther afield, would just curl a lip in that patented Elvis sneer and mutter "Anyway You Want Me", just before they whipped out manufactured replicas of the shotgun that Elvis used to shoot out his TV set with… and fired. Oh, it’d be a bloodbath! Beatles fans falling by the dozen! Falling back into their yellow submarine to fire deadly torpedos at the Elvis fans! Oh, the humanity — the humanity! The….
….what? Star Wars?
Oh yeah.
Anyway, as I was saying, when the Star Wars fans hit the field, it’ll be down to Han fans and Luke lovers. There are no other options.
But it’s totally unfair, since Han Solo has all the advantages on his side. For one thing, Luke Skywalker is played by Mark Hamill, who made the unfortunate career decision of using his face to stress-test a windshield during the break between Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back. Is it his fault that by the time they were able to start shooting again, his face looked like an oatmeal cookie? I think not. Harrison Ford has the advantage hands-down in the looks category simply because you can’t see the stitches poking out of his face.
But even leaving that factor aside, Han Solo has a huge advantage going for him — by the time we see him, he’s old enough to drink. But Luke? Poor schlub, he steps on-screen when his voice is still cracking. Even "Stone Cold" Steve Austin would look like a dweeb begging Uncle Owen for use of the landspeeder.
I mean, let’s give the boy some props here; by the time he shows up at Jabba’s palace at the beginning of Return Of The Jedi, he’s actually cool. Bitchin’ black outfit, not afraid of anyone, doing that incredibly stylish leap off the diving board to catch his lightsaber in midair and slash his way through all of Jabba’s guards — but.
But.
By then you’ve seen him screeching, "But I was going to Tosche station to pick up some power converters!" in a voice that makes fingernails on a chalkboard sound like Mantovanni strings, and all you can think is one thing: Dork.
I think to be fair we should handicap the Solo fans — when Greedo pulls out that pistol, Han’s life should flash before his eyes. Then we could have flashbacks to Han’s adolescence. Couldn’t you see it? Han Solo, scrubbing pimple cream on his face before that hot date. Han Solo, getting grounded because he test-drove his father’s corvette without asking permission. (Okay, so he’s an orphan. You get the picture.) The great Han Solo, suffering Imperial wedgies during his days as a Stormtrooper recruit — hey, the possibilities are endless. I say even the odds.
So on the "dork" front, Han’s way ahead. And he also has the advantage of not being related to anybody. I mean, you look at that and it really sort of hampers Luke’s effectiveness. In the beginning Han’s only responsibility is to Chewbacca — which is kind of putting it mildly. Has it occurred to anyone that really, Chewbacca’s taking care of Han?
Let’s look at the facts: Chewie’s the one who negotiates the initial deal with Ben. So who’s scamming for money? Chewie. All Han’s doing is sitting in the corner with a big sign over his head that says, "I AM TOO STUPID TO LEAVE THIS PLANET." Who’s the only one who really knows how to fix the Falcon? Again, Chewie; Han just sits around with his thumb up his butt while Chewie does all the welding. Sure, Han shouts at Chewbacca to do something once in awhile, but watch Chewbacca closely; he gives Han that look that the line worker gives to his clueless foreman on the assembly line. And who’s taking care of Han once he gets busted on Cloud City? Chewie’s coming in and basically fixing the boy a drink, giving him a foot massage; frankly, I don’t think Chewbacca owes Han any kind of life debt — he just feels sorry for him.
I think what happened was this: Han Solo breaks into a ship full of Wookiee prisoners. Now, these guys have been in jail for maybe a day and a half and the only reason they haven’t busted out yet is because they’ve been engaged in a lively debate over what kind of sport they’re going to play with the Stormtroopers’ heads once they break free — football? Soccer? Basketball? The possibilities are endless.
And then this dork comes tearing in through the doorway, badly-aimed Stormtrooper shots shredding the walls behind him, shouting, "I’M HERE TO RESCUE YOU!" Great, think the Wookiees; dorkboy here just blew our chances of a surprise revolt. But hey, schmucko here means well and he’s gonna get killed if they don’t help out, so they storm out through the door and rip all the Imperials into little Imperial-sized chunks.
And then Han’s standing there breathlessly, his armor getting a little rusty around the crotch if you get my drift, and they all look at each other. This guy won’t live to be twenty if somebody doesn’t take care of him, and it looks like his mother stopped a long time ago. And besides, even by female Wookiee standards, he’s kind of cute.
"Look!" one of them says suddenly, hoping he’s dumb enough to fall for it, "Oh my gosh, you saved our lives. We seven-foot-tall walking masses of muscle would never have been able to overcome those walking masses of cannonfodd — er, competent Stormtroopers. We owe you a life debt." ("What’s a life debt?" says one of the slower Wookiees, just before he gets a sharp elbow to the ribs.) "Chewbacca here is going to have to stay with you forever. You, um, take care of him. See ya." And then they leave poor Chewie with Han, because even Wookiees know what it means when you draw the short straw.
Think about it. I bet it happened. Lucas would tell you about it if you bought him a few drinks.
And there is one final unfairness against Luke; he’s related to everyone. It’s like judging someone by how they act at Thanksgiving. I mean, when it turns out the girl you’ve been fooling around with is your cousin and then your Dad comes out of nowhere to beat the living the tar out of you, you’re going to be dateless for a loooong time. Especially if he cuts off your hand with the electric turkey knife. And it doesn’t help that your creepy old aunt and uncle show up and keep reminiscing about your childhood. Thanksgivings are like bad Doors concerts: Nobody gets out alive.
So keep all of that in mind when you’re putting down poor Luke. The boy has a lot to live up to. And for some reason I can’t stop thinking of Harrison Ford in a skintight white leather outfit, being forced at gunpoint by Jabba the Hutt to sing "Wear My Restraining Bolt Around Your Neck" while Chewbacca rolls his eyes in the background and wonders how he got into this mess.
(The Ferrett has made a career out of diatribe. He can be counted on for a rant on almost any subject, the Old Faithful of cynicism. You can read his opinion of subjects other than Star Wars if you email him for information about his website and you're over the age of 18 since there's no editor there to tone him down <g>)