For original fans it’s easy to forget that the prequels didn’t destroy Star Wars in popular culture. Middle-aged blokes like me may have clung to the originals and ignored everything since, once it became clear how dreadful it was (or disappeared into the maze of mediocre Expanded Universe material), but Star Wars is as much a cultural touchstone as it’s ever been. Many of the boys in my daughter’s class are Star Wars fanatics.
The original series was not actually that flash if you were a girl1: Leia is a mixed bag, and as Ada observed as a six year old, that’s all there is. The prequels made the original look like The Vagina Monologues by comparison, though. Natalie Portman is a fine actress, but given the material she had to work with she might as well been a suitcase with a glowing interior.
So it’s unsurprising that Ada doesn’t have a great deal of enthusiasm for Star Wars: it may be a dominant cultural touchstone that is part of playground games and the modern mythos, but there’s not much of a place for her in it. So when I wanted to take her to see The Force Awakens there was a certain amount of… encouragement… required2. With a little reluctance, but some faith that (as Maire reminded her), her father has a pretty good strike rate on movies she likes, she came along. She was terrified during the scary bits, thrilled during the exciting bits, and generally seemed to be enjoying it.
So when we left the theatre, I wanted to ask Ada what she thought; before I had a chance, a shining-eyed acolyte erupted: “She’s the hero isn’t she Dad?”, “Is she going to be a Jedi?”, “She’s the one who found Luke Skywalker!”, “She has the lightsaber!”, “She IS the hero. REY IS AWESOME!”. Over and over.
She was thrilled.
And when school starts again, she will go back, swaggering along with the knowledge that Star Wars has room for her.