Attack, Revenge, and Return
Saturday morning, around 7am, a line started forming outside the Metreon to see British playwright Tom Stoppard's new film, based on a late-70s film by a young experimental filmmaker from USC. By 9:30, the line stretched down around Jillians and up over the stairs, spilling into Yerba Buena Gardens -- about 1,500 people were estimated present. But these were small-scale nerds, not the type who camp out for weeks; as employees of the LucasFilm machine, they were all being treated to a special sneak preview of the movie that represents a final curtain call for the Star Wars films. And we were lucky enough to get scooted into the theater with them, thanks to our uncanny knack for sleeping with just the right person.
Of course we can't disclose anything too super about the film that isn't out there already (for that matter, we can't even disclose the stuff that is out there already). But we can say that the overwhelming relief eschewed by other previewers is, thank the maker, pretty much appropriate. (Although one attendee wrote to us later, "Not my cuppa tea. At least 80% of the effects looked stunning and I appreciated watching it from a purely visual standpoint. However, I am an old romantic at heart and I can't resist a good love story. Anakin and Padme, whose passionate strength is meant to provide the crux of the whole Star Wars series, were about as romantic as couple of damp squibs. I wanted to see their lust, their craving, their desire, you know, like Romeo and Juliette or something. Instead, we had to make do with them merely telling us how they felt.")
After the jump: big smiles, nudity, and George Lucas spinning around.
We managed to slink into the Metreon's digital projection theater (number fifteen), which not long afterwards was graced with the luminous presence of George and associates, sitting a few rows behind us. After the film, the audience of about 300 gave George a standing ovation as he returned the applause with a twirling I'm-clapping-for-all-of-you gesture. No, seriously, the guy twirled. Spun around while clapping. It was great. He had a few words for us -- "I couldn't have done it without all of you," which we think is probably true, even in our case: our successful romantic overtures to one of his employees probably did aid the filmmaking effort in some small way. And then we were off to visit the new Letterman Digital Arts Center in the Presidio, which will be opened to the public in just a few weeks. This place is -- let's not mince words -- wow. It's just wow. Completely wow. Wow forever. Or at least until the homeless people find out about it and set up camp.
The entire park -- which a few months ago was a giant dirt hole in the ground -- is nicer than nice. Fountains, grassy hills, big trees, benches, and a lovely view of just about everything you could ever want to look at. Lots of Star Wars stuff was on display inside the buildings (which, unlike the grounds, will not be open to the public). Lots of free food and booze, too, and we didn't know whether to go gawk at the authentic Vader costume or assume a strategic position near the bar. There's a stream that runs under some footbridges and empties into a shallow pond, and since it was sunny and nice on Saturday, all the young children in attendance were immediately drawn to the water, pausing and looking back at their parents and then inching closer and experimenting to see just how far they could go. After a while, the parents relented and let the kids splash around, which was all fun and games until some parent allowed their 3-year-old to wade in completely naked. An awkward "ummmmmmmm" sort of vibe ensued, followed by the other families retreating to a less nudist part of the complex.
We can't begin to imagine what these sort of events were like after early screenings of Episode I, but last Saturday, everyone seemed to be enjoying pleasant, happy conversation, and the mood was sort of deleriously light. All of the major LucasFilm peeps were there, and they were soaking up the positive attention and utterly beaming. The galaxy's darkest hour was their brightest.
Check out more photos of the complex at our Flickr account.