A long time ago, long before the Internet, in a galaxy that in fact was right here. After a deli dinner which included a discussion of the then-current So I Married an Axe Murderer, a bookish, nerdy-yet-inexplicably-ignorant-of-way-too-much-nerd-culture-no-wait–that-was-before-the-Internet kid who was not quite bar mitzvah age was introduced by his roly-poly babysitter to a movie he’d never heard of having something to do with a princess in outer space…
In a way, that was the perfect time and age to get introduced to Star Wars.
In between the trilogies. Late enough past the original trilogy, when it was had receded but was still popular, that it was possible to see it with fresh eyes as a kid old enough to be able to understand it before its innovations had been made overly familiar by cultural osmosis. (And who only saw the Indiana Jones trilogy even later, in his mid-teens, when he was even more benefited to be able to understand more of it than he would have earlier.) Early enough that the original trilogy didn’t have the baggage and complications that retroactively encrusted it, and could be experienced in its entirety in a long afternoon eight-hours-with-commercials TV marathon. When there was just enough ancillary stuff to give the feel of a larger universe, but not ubiquitous enough to be overexposed, with the sometimes-spotty accessibility making it all the more worth seeking out on the Barnes & Noble™ and Tower Records™ shelves. When the creator’s small output made each and every one of his movies all the more precious (including Willow).
And just the right age to hit the cusp of adulthood right at the release of the new movie that was going to bring more Star Wars all over again.