A Commencement Day Dirge

And so another academic year befalls us. If you are a student, Constant Reader, do not despair. The long, hard road awaits us, but at the end of its dark and thorny road awaits Paradise. The natural tide of seasons looms before us; Death and Winter must come before glorious Spring. After months of becoming pasty white with study, someday we will again see the sun. Do not fear the darkness of your soul. Do not fear the abyss. But don't stare at it too long, because according to Nietzche, it will stare back, and then you're in trouble. May we find balance in the cycle of natural life, in the changing times and winds. Let us see its poetry. Here's a little bit you can repeat to yourself every morning before class as a kind of "warm up" for the day (made all the more exciting in the almighty lingua Latina):

O cernite virum stantem aequoribus Fati.

Solus vir inter ruentos manet.

Fumi atri ad caelum ex ignibus magnis undant.

Arvum belli grave est cum gravitate mortuorum.

Video solem factum est nigerum tamquam saccum cilicinum,

Et lunam totam factam est sicut sanguinem.

Pulchrumque mori succurrit in armis.

Itaque apocalypsis incipit.

Libera nos, Pie Domine.

(Daniel Saunders, 2009)

O, observe the man, standing upon the waves of Fate.

One man only remains among the fallen.

Black smoke from great fires swells to the heavens.

The battlefield is heavy with the weight of the dead.

I see the sun made black like a sackcloth of goat hair

And the entire moon changed red as blood.

And it occurs to me that it is beautiful to die in battle.

Thus begins the Apocalypse.

Save us, O Merciful Lord.

The Memoirs of George Lucas- Chapter 2, The Phantom Failure

II

My mother is a saint, bless her heart. I owe my existence to her, literally. I don't remember the day I triumphantly emerged from the birthing pit, kicking and screaming bloody murder, but I do know that she and I were there together. She held my writhing, slimy midget body in her angelic arms and told me that one day I would rule the universe.

Well, that day came, and here I am. I still remember my mother, that dear lady whose Maternal Instinct guided me in my first great quest-- childhood. She's been gone for some time now, having run off with the town barber when I was 11. But everyone makes mistakes, right? I've learned to forgive old Sally. Or is it Ellen? It's been while. And today, even though most of my conscious thought is bent on matters of increasingly greater importance, such as tasting exotic coffees, I still find time occasionally to remember fondly the woman I loved first.

"Mother, mother, you're divine!

The way you hug me is just fine!

If only, only dad were gone,

I'd marry you at light of dawn!"

Just a little ditty I wrote at age 8. Poetry was not my only gift at that young age, either. I was a regular Renaissance Kid, dabbling here and there in the fine arts; at age 10 I had written my first opera, Señor Psychopath, which premiered to marginal successes at the Derby Opera House of Modesto; at age 13 my study in Impressionism had culminated in a 5-painting mega-exhibit at the San Luciano House of Art. But I digress. All that was a preliminary to the main point of this chapter, and that is this: Episode I: The Phantom Menace, is simply a story of maternal love.

STARWARS fans will no doubt remember my tendency to delve headlong into complex family relations. And so it probably came as no surprise that the young Anakin in Menace fell head over heels in love with a woman old enough to be his mother. This strange phenomenon is called the Oedipus Complex, named after some crazy idiot who actually fell in love with his mother, instead of just pretending to, like all the rest of us do. I thought this theme was interesting enough to pursue in a STARWARS film, and after 30 years of silence, when indescribable forces compelled me to retake the directing helm, I was granted an opportunity to tell my story.

The first step in realizing this dream was to create an absolutely useless and remarkably persistent alien character to mask the dark truths of the main story. The idea for Jar Jar Binks actually came to me while visiting my mother-in-law, Helen, a few weeks after she had started Jenny Craig. And despite all my efforts against it, Jar Jar just became this incredible life-force and visionary for the project. The Gungan we found to play him, Gerry Albright, was this really bright kid, straight out of school, and had such a heart for the film and for the people in it. It was a common sight to see Gerry with some of the seamstresses after a shoot, sharing some tea and conversation.

The other two essential elements were the lovebirds: Anakin and Padme. Natalie Portman signed up and blah blah nobody cares about her. Ladies and gentlemen, let me just tell you now, I had been waiting my entire life to meet Jake Lloyd. This kid rocks the house. Talent just seeps from his pores. He sweats it. He eats, sleeps and breathes it. He is the definition of talent. I was driving back from a meeting with the President and stopped at this no-name ghost town in Indiana. There, amid the white trash ghettos, I found Jake, looking for his lunch in a dumpster outside Denny's. I've been a father figure ever since.

Jake came out to Hollywood right away, forsaking his elementary studies for the thespian life. At 11 years of age, he was the perfect kid to play 20 year old Padme's love interest. Sure, I was a little hard on the boy, but I expected a lot out of him. I pushed him, but he had the power of the Force. After all, he did have the highest midichlorion count in the history of the universe. I'm going to say it: Jake Lloyd made STARWARS. We had a special bond. He's the jedi son I never had; and he was unsurpassed in his child actor adorableness. Everything was set to go perfectly.

And everything did go perfectly. That is, until Jake Lloyd ruined everything. I mean, he ruined everything. Look, it wasn't me! Just because Jar Jar stole the show and everyone hated little ole Jakey's performance, it's not my fault! My hands are clean! My conscience is intact! My reputation is viable! I gave him the dialogue most conducive to success. And he failed. He failed his co-workers, he failed his audience, he failed STARWARS, but most importantly, he failed me. I trusted him. And he betrayed my trust. His role is just not believable. Unfortunately we were all just so caught up with his cuteness that we didn't realize it until the film got shipped out. Jake and I parted ways.

I have heard recently that Jake has shown some bitterness about me. I remember reading about a video interview he recently did with a technology conference. In response to the question, "If you could use the Force on any person, who would it be?" His answer was something to the effect of "I couldn't do anything to make that a-hole's life worse than it already is," and I'm here to say, Jake, I don't know who your sources are, but I'm doing great. If you're going to call me out on the internet and play these little games with me behind my back, I will find you, and I will give you a talking to. If you have something to say, say it to my face, or your sorry butt is grass. That said, I want to make up with you. I'm willing to but the past behind me, Jake, and I want to be friends again. Like old times. Remember our summers in Naboo! Remember the podrace! I made you! I gave you fame, fortune, glory, I gave it all to you, and you scorned me! You would have starred in episodes 2 and 3! You would have tasted the fruits of luxury! You could have sat at the top of the universe next to your me, your real Father! Think of it, a Father-Son empire! It's so original! Wait, where have I heard that before?

But generally speaking, I think Menace is my favorite STARWARS film. It's got a lot of heart, and it's got Darth Maul. Why he died I have no idea. If I would have had complete control I probably would have had Qui Gon (his fate is in his name, HA!) and Obi Wan both shafted. Obi Wan's victory was sheer luck. Darth Maul had some serious skills, baby, skills.

Star-Spangled Wizardry

The other day an esteemed colleague and I were discussing the whims and wonders of J.K. Rowling's magical universe and that little nerdy 4-eyes kid who rules it. In our discourse we hit upon an interesting piece of mystery that Rowling has left us with after the completion of the Harry Potter series. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, along with Beauxbatons Academy in France and Durmstrang Institute in Bulgaria, are a few of the leading magic schools in Europe--they're the ones we hear about in the books, at any rate. However, who hasn't wondered about the rest of the global magic community? What is happening to the rest of the wizarding community as Harry plays the awkard adolescent around Ginny? Aren't there noteworthy things happening elsewhere? Surely, the cosmic battle of good and evil, the ultimate conflict between Chosen One and Supreme Evil, the most cataclysmic and monumental event of all history, cannot be limited to England alone. Indeed, the books give us glimpses of global crisis due to Voldemort's hellraising return. What occurs in England is felt everywhere in the magical community. But where is everywhere?

What I mean to ask is this: is there an American wizarding academy? If so, where is it located? My instincts tell me no, or at least not anything like a Hogwarts if there is. The reason is simple. It is probably widespread knowledge that magical practice originated in Europe. The Native Americans would not have practiced 'Western magic'; they had their nature spirituality and what not. Hogwarts was probably founded at around the time Stonehenge was built, maybe it was even Hogwarts students that built it. But the thing that matters is that Hogwarts, England, and Europe have magical history and tradition; America does not. The earliest an American academy could have been built would have been in the Colonial Era, and why would the colonial magic community want to break from Hogwarts anyway? Our nation was formed by a political revolution; if the English muggles could have cared less about the split, then the magic community probably didn't even know it happened. America is the melting pot; it contains every tradition and consequently it contains no tradition. Magic America would just as soon send their progeny to their home country to study. The 21st century American magic community does not exist.

Except that's not the way it happened; quite contrary, in fact. You see, there is an American wizarding academy. And there is a vibrant magic community in America. But they are the dissident. It's like this: the National Institute for the Coordination and Cooperation of Magick and Sciences (NICCMS), the American wizarding school, was formed in the late 1800s by a certain Phineas Tillbottle, a Scottish wizard who had studied in Germany. Tillbottle, who had magical abilities as a child, found that they had slowly dwindled into nonexistence by his 6th year of study. The newly formed squib was torn by an intolerable and horrific despair. No more magic ability! His studies, his career, his life, ruined! With his mind in delusions he turned to the unthinkable--muggle science. Working alongside the many muggle contacts he made in Germany (the most significant of which was Klaus Vondervan), Tillbottle was able to perfect the art of what he dubbed 'scientific alchemy', an ingenious blend of ancient magick and progressive science. The Germans were convinced this tool would lead them to the White Lady, that hoped for and strived for elusive ideal, the subject of wars and machines, of peace, of prosperity, the very name of human history--Progress.

Tillbottle quickly moved his operations to the forefront of turn-of-the-century progress--America--and set up the NICCMS in downtown Boston. Beneath the towering skyscrapers and the filth of the streets, NICCMS exists to unite the forces of magic and science, to create and engage sanitary alchemy, and to dissolve the hopes and dreams of the world one discovery at a time. They advance in the name of Progress, which is to say they ride a train of breakneck speeds straight to Hell. NICCMS, since its institution, has attracted more than 7,000 magical traitors. The efforts of the NICCMS go against everything the wizarding community believes in for this reason: it seeks to kill the life of magic, the imagination, the spirit, the unknown, the darkness. It seeks, in the name of humanity, to end violence and suffering by inflicting violence and suffering on the soul.

What would Harry do with such a crowd? We'll never know for sure. Or will we?