1977, Star Wars, and My Exploding Mind
1977. “Saturday Night Fever”, Zots, “Undercover Angel”. Bulgy pants and bright teeth. Tickle deodorant and they told two friends and they told two friends and so on; and so on; and so on…
And along comes Saturday, June 4. I had originally gone to see this new movie “Star Wars” with Jimmy Marks and his dad at The Plitt City Center in Orange on opening weekend, but the line was literally wrapped around the mall, all parking was taken, there was security up on the roof of the mall with bullhorns and walkie-talkies directing traffic, helicopters were circling overhead and news vans were there. Pretty freaked out by the whole scene, we gave up.
The next weekend (and I’m glad it worked out this way), I went with my Dad to Edward’s Newport. This is a classic, old-school theater built in the late ‘60s during the waning years of Cinemascope “event” films. It’s a huge (I mean HUGE) amphitheater with what they advertise as “the biggest screen on the west coast” — seventy-one feet wide. They had recently upgraded to “six-track Dolby stereo” at that time. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn’t seen any of the trailers, hadn’t read the novel published six months prior, maybe just read Charles Champlin’s review in the L.A. Times. It starts with the 20th Century Fox fanfare, the “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” thing – my Dad & I look at each other with a smile. We already know this is going to be cool after only thirty seconds and no story. The main title explodes and the scroll-up draws us in. I’m fascinated — what is this? No opening credits? No director, no producer, no stars…? Pan down to a desert planet with a couple moons orbiting. There’s a sound coming from behind us like fifty jet planes six feet over our heads then this very cool-looking ship with eleven red engines comes screaming past, shooting lasers back and forth and getting hit by unseen pursuer. A beat, then the rumbling starts. I swear to you, the whole theater felt like it was shaking and this HUGE wedge-shaped ship starts crawling past overhead. In this vast theater, it literally fills my eyesight. It keeps going and going and going — and just when I think it can’t be any bigger and my head is about to explode from sensory overload — it keeps going some more.
It was at that moment, at age eleven, that I knew what I wanted to do with my life — become a professional visual artist. I spent the rest of the summer, fall & winter devouring everything I could get my hands on: Ralph McQuarrie’s portfolio, Joe Johnston’s sketchbook, every picture I could find — I must have gone through twenty Strathmore pads drawing and drawing and drawing. Our neighbor across the street owned a design firm (he did the Sunkist logo, among others) and he graciously volunteered a couple drawing lessons and a tour of his studio. The world seemed to open up; all things became possible without limits. Limits came later.
Tags: 1977, movies, nostalgia, orange county, star wars
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