c.1982? | age 14? Hey, Leia’s doing that ‘Heroine standing in the observation room while the male heroes fight’ —thing. But I thought that was a Michael Bay trademark? Oh, I feel dirty now, after mentioning that director…
Well, I suppose you’ve all heard the questions:
“Why didn’t the Death Star just blow up planet Yavin and then blow up the moon behind it?”
“why didn’t the Death Star come out of hyper-space on the other side of Yavin?”
Okay, moooooving on….
. . .
I think that’s probably another glued-in surplus trading card. Gives it that authentic official looking finish. I see Laurence Olivier took some time out from Marathon Man to do a scene here top-left. Hardly surprising though. Did you know that Larry used to read SWa9? Long before you ever even heard of it. «Check it out, you’ll be amazed.
And if that’s not an abuse of the image of a revered and deceased celebrity, I don’t know what is.
. . .
School Notes: The Gates of Hell!
I may as well pick up the thread that I «started last Tuesday about the concept of Hell in Star Wars. Reader T.Gatto reckons there is one, and it awaits he who does not release the original theatrical version in 3:2:1 Anthropomorphical Thingmybob.
Good one, T!
Did you know that when I arrived in Ireland in 1977 I was a 9 year old (smarty-pants) atheist. I was probably just copying my dad—probably. So there I was: dropped, into a very provincial, traditional little village school where virtually everyone believed in God. So what did I do? A 9 year old? I immediately let everyone in the class know as soon as I could that I didn’t believe. So not only did I feel superior to the wee Paddies because I was English (with a Scottish accent), but I also didn’t believe in all that God stuff (forehead slap and face-palm).
So out in in the playground the others looked at me as if I was the oddest thing ever. Michelle M and her pals actually followed me through the schoolyard, chanting sarcastically: “So what do you worship—the Sun?” Good one. Served me right.
Little smart arse.
Sometime later—perhaps in Mr.Cassan’s class—we were instructed to draw the Gates of Heaven in all its colourful beauty. This was religion class. Draw? DRAW? We’re actually getting to draw something in an Irish Primary School? Creativity, unless in writing, was almost unheard of. That wasn’t the kind of thing that was likely to get you a job, when you grew up. Someone should have informed them that most people who love drawing never grow up.
Anyway, a chance to draw. Amazing! So what does Master ‘I’m English not Irish like you lot, and a 9 year old atheist to boot’—do?
I drew the attack on the Death Star. Luke’s X-Wing evading the Turbo Cannon—with the words writ large across it (in terrifying dripping letters):
THE GATES OF HELL!
Imagine the stubbornness and gall of that! I got away with it too. They weren’t used to this kind of drawing ability. It was as if I didn’t s much have a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card, but more an ‘I’m an Artist: Make Allowances for Me Because I’m Special’ card.
So, I defied the teacher’s wishes and did something potentially offensive to the practicing Catholics whilst actually in religion class.
Yeah. ‘Way to fit-in, Johnny boy!
. . .