We made it all the way to age 7 before our eldest son was allowed to watch the Star Wars movies. Duncan owes his deprivation to four people: A pre-school classmate he barely remembers whose sadistic play habits and obsession with Darth Vader at age 3 thoroughly freaked me out; a benevolent older cousin, who recalled his own childhood nightmares about Darth Vader and cautioned us to wait; and his rookie parents.
Given the logistical impossibility of separation, Duncan's brothers suffered or enjoyed no such protections. They watched Star Wars at ages 4 and 2. So much for the Resistance.
I wax wistful and amused at my lost parental innocence. Star Wars is gentle stuff by comparison to what came after those floodgates were opened... The boys have now seen the first 4 Harry Potters, The Avengers, The Hobbit, Home Alone (all 4), and are about to complete the Lord of the Rings trilogy, among others I've lost track of. They laugh at the breakfast table about how "Kevin shot the bad guy in the wiener with the staple gun!" They re-enact the battle of Helms Deep with their Legos, or on each other, arguing over the best way to kill an Orc. Tucker brings the Lord of the Rings DVD cases to Junior Nursery for show-and-tell, introducing his 3-year old classmates the "Ohtches" (Orcs) and the Evil Eye of Saran. Now it's my kid who freaks out the new parents.
The tragic deaths in Connecticut last month have prompted soul-searching and finger-pointing about the origins of evil in our culture. A snippet on NPR this week had NRA leaders pointing fingers at video game executives and Hollywood lawyers who pointed fingers at the Bible for justification of our eternal fascination with violence and the unprovable link between our fantasy lives and violent behavior. Like all parents, I can't think about Sandy Hook without imagining myself in the position of those parents, my children in their classrooms. It's unbearable to ponder. But even more unbearable is the thought that something could go so wrong in our parenting, or in our health care system, or in our culture, that one of my kids could grow up to inflict such harm. Against the real potential for such horrific behavior, how do we responsibly grapple with the dark content of our fiction?
At this point, I don't actually worry about my sons taking a seriously evil turn. I witness their kindness, sharing and comforting each other without adult enforcement. Their moral reasoning grows day by day, rooted in an instinct for justice. While we are far from out of the woods (a grabbed toy can still elicit retaliation in the form of near strangulation), I believe they are "good boys," not because they are compliant, but because I can see them reaching for good within themselves. And one of the guys I thank most for helping them on their quest is Darth Vader.
It's not easy to find our way through the raging impulses that compose human existence. Whether snatching the last brownie or smashing brother's Lego Temple of Light, there are so many ways, petty or grand, to do harm. But Darth Vader began an unending conversation in our house... Why did Anakin turn to the dark side? Where does anger come from? Why was he so sad? Why did he want to hurt people? Why does he change back to the good at the end? And (shocking realization), can kids actually teach their parents how to turn into better people? The better we know Darth Vader, the more we love him. Luke showed us that the only way to be rid of the mask was to love the guy behind it. To seek his destruction only makes him stronger, by turning us into him.
Without Darth, we wouldn't have been ready for Gollum. Starting with making sense of names. We get that Anakin became Darth, so we can kind of get how Smeagol becomes Gollum. The road to redemption starts when someone (Luke, Froddo) comes along who reminds them of their former names, their better selves. But Gollum's journey is much more slippery. His evil is less mythically pronounced. He is no fascist, orchestrating empires of tyranny; Gollum's is more the petty destruction of an addict, but with consequences no less lethal for those who get in his way. His unreliability makes him scarier.
My son Reeve has long been one to embody the characters of his imagination fully (see http://ricketyladder.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-run-as-mermaid.html and http://ricketyladder.blogspot.com/2011/06/super-reeve.html). What would he do with Gollum? Before we even got home from The Hobbit (opening weekend, in 3-D no less, that's how far things have gone here), Reeve was twisting a popcorn butter-stained napkin into a ring and testing it on his finger for invisibility. At home under the couch, Reeve found Harpo's "bagel," a circular rawhide chew toy that was the dog's Hanukkah gift. Bagel no more... Like its cinematic inspiration, this unearthed "precious" provoked murderous thoughts as 3-year old little brother discovered its mysterious allure and determined he would have it, at any cost. A rawhide chew toy to the head can do some real damage. A teachable moment, as they say.
As we make our way through the 3 Lord of the Rings, following Reeve's own post-Hobbit ring misadventures, Reeve asks anxiously and repeatedly, "Is Froddo going to turn evil?'' ... (minutes later) "Is he turning evil now, Mommy?" "Is he going to be evil at the end?" He doesn't ask why Saran is evil; somehow he gets that the "eye" is an icon of potential, not a real character. The danger lies in what power it holds over us. More than death, it is evil that preoccupies Reeve, who seems to get that even death can be accepted as long as you "turn good" in time.
And as Froddo resists the power of the ring better than Smeagol, new questions arise. Watching me type just now Reeve asked, "But Mommy, it doesn't make any sense. If Saran made the ring and it's evil, then how does it turn people not to any side?" Which led to a discussion of the meaning of power ("The Ring of Power, one ring to rule them all"), what people do with it for good or ill, how it works over time, whether regular people have more or less power than kings, children or parents, and how a lowly Hobbit could possible go up against Saran.
Don't get me wrong... Reeve loves the fighting, and the unredeemable Orcs justify mass killing without disquieting conscience. He has adopted Legolas, the archer, as his new persona (instructions for building a quiver for Fresh Direct boxes available on request). Watch out -- he takes aim at anyone and anything with the bow and arrow he did chores to earn. But at age 5, Reeve is reckoning with our vulnerability to our desires for pretty and powerful things. He is pondering what kind of strength Froddo needs to survive his journey into the fires of Mordor, knowing what happened when Anakin submitted to the volcanic fires and wanting desperately for Froddo to forge a different destiny. He is sorting out Gollum's perplexing multiplicity.
Thanks, Darth.
My son Reeve has long been one to embody the characters of his imagination fully (see http://ricketyladder.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-run-as-mermaid.html and http://ricketyladder.blogspot.com/2011/06/super-reeve.html). What would he do with Gollum? Before we even got home from The Hobbit (opening weekend, in 3-D no less, that's how far things have gone here), Reeve was twisting a popcorn butter-stained napkin into a ring and testing it on his finger for invisibility. At home under the couch, Reeve found Harpo's "bagel," a circular rawhide chew toy that was the dog's Hanukkah gift. Bagel no more... Like its cinematic inspiration, this unearthed "precious" provoked murderous thoughts as 3-year old little brother discovered its mysterious allure and determined he would have it, at any cost. A rawhide chew toy to the head can do some real damage. A teachable moment, as they say.
As we make our way through the 3 Lord of the Rings, following Reeve's own post-Hobbit ring misadventures, Reeve asks anxiously and repeatedly, "Is Froddo going to turn evil?'' ... (minutes later) "Is he turning evil now, Mommy?" "Is he going to be evil at the end?" He doesn't ask why Saran is evil; somehow he gets that the "eye" is an icon of potential, not a real character. The danger lies in what power it holds over us. More than death, it is evil that preoccupies Reeve, who seems to get that even death can be accepted as long as you "turn good" in time.
And as Froddo resists the power of the ring better than Smeagol, new questions arise. Watching me type just now Reeve asked, "But Mommy, it doesn't make any sense. If Saran made the ring and it's evil, then how does it turn people not to any side?" Which led to a discussion of the meaning of power ("The Ring of Power, one ring to rule them all"), what people do with it for good or ill, how it works over time, whether regular people have more or less power than kings, children or parents, and how a lowly Hobbit could possible go up against Saran.
Don't get me wrong... Reeve loves the fighting, and the unredeemable Orcs justify mass killing without disquieting conscience. He has adopted Legolas, the archer, as his new persona (instructions for building a quiver for Fresh Direct boxes available on request). Watch out -- he takes aim at anyone and anything with the bow and arrow he did chores to earn. But at age 5, Reeve is reckoning with our vulnerability to our desires for pretty and powerful things. He is pondering what kind of strength Froddo needs to survive his journey into the fires of Mordor, knowing what happened when Anakin submitted to the volcanic fires and wanting desperately for Froddo to forge a different destiny. He is sorting out Gollum's perplexing multiplicity.
Thanks, Darth.
