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June 11, 2005

A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away . . .

Ok, so I promised I’d never mention Star Wars again after I wrote a whole column about the release of the original trilogy onto DVD. I lied. As you no doubt will have guessed by Darth Vader appearing on the front of your Corn Flakes, Chewbacca selling you Pringles and Yoda drinking diet-Pepsi - Star Wars is back. And for the very last time too. The final instalment of George Lucas’ epic space saga is filling cinemas all over the world as you read this. But let me take you back to last week. Back when there was still a week to the official release of the film. Back when die-hard fans begun camping out side cinemas across America. Back when yours truly went to the top secret press screening.

I was told through the grapevine that the first ever screening of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith in Ireland had took place on Saturday morning in front of an 800 strong audience dressed up in robes and yielding toy light sabres. How had this slipped by me? Now I’ll have to wait another week to see the film that I’ve waited ten years to see. Arghhh! Yet in these situations coincidence and luck are always good signs. Word came through of a second secret press screening being held secretly in the Savoy Cinema on O’Connell St. at 10.30am on Monday morning. This was my one chance. I had to get into the screening for the good of mankind. So come Monday morning I’ve managed to struggle out of bed at the ungodly hour of seven am. I’m taking all precautions to ensure I’m not late for my train as would usually be the case. I practically run all the way to the station and when I get there who should I meet but Al. He has an inkling as to where I might be going. “Star Wars,” I say. “Isn’t everyone here going to see Star Wars?” Apparently not but Al was at least.

After the train journey and the dash through the building site that is now Heuston Station we hop aboard the faithful number 90. Along the way we concoct various lies to tell the doorman when we get there. Lines such as “I’m from the Times, don’t you recognize me?” or the best being “I’m from Twentieth Century Fox - I produced this damn film!” When we arrive though it doesn’t appear that were going to have to blag our way in at all. All but one of the main doors to the Savoy are locked. We proceed in. So far so good. Over at the entrance to screen number one there are two gigantic guerrilla bouncers in suits. And let me tell you they cause me some alarm. I didn’t come this far to be thwarted right at the entrance. I try and figure out what the bouncers are doing exactly. They’re definitely stopping people. For a horrifying moment it looks as if their asking to see people’s tickets but it turns out they’re merely searching people’s bags. This is it, I thought. Now or never. My destiny lies beyond them and too it I must go.

I stroll casually over to them trying my utmost to look like a stuck-up film critic as most film critics invariably are. The bigger of the two stares down at me. “Here to see the film?” he says. I try to remain calm. Don’t do anything to screw this up, just answer him. “Eh . . .yes. Yes I am.” He nods. “Can you open your bag for me?” Now for readers who are wondering the reason for this question, it’s because Star Wars isn’t due for release for another week and if I had a video camera concealed in my bag I could theoretically pirate the film to DVD within a day. Their not taking any chances. I oblige and open my bag. A few books and a notepad. Nothing incriminating. “Ok,” he says, “and can I have a look at your phone?” I hand it over to him. Again he’s checking to see if it’s one of those fancy video recording phones. Thankfully I have a boring old model. “Thank you, sir. Go right in.”

At this point a beam of light shone down upon the entrance to screen one and a choir of angels burst into a joyous rendition of “Hallelujah”. I hurried in and jumped into the first seat I can find. Already there’s around a hundred people here. All journalists and the like. Francis, the presenter of The Den comes in and sits in front of me. This is quite possibly going to be the coolest thing ever. The lights dim. The velvet red curtain pulls to the side and the most famous cinematic words fade up on the screen. “A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away . . .”

Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist.

Posted by LiamG at June 11, 2005 01:41 AM