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I knew it was his heart. I could hear it beating. It’s dark. Like at night. No, worse. We’re inside, so no stars, no moon. It’s the true dark of a confined space. To the sides, there’s a faint green glow. Behind, if I were to look, the flickering red pinpoints, burning to yellow with the inhalation. But I probably don’t look. Why would I, when what fills my field of vision is so bright? The screen is enormous. It redefines ‘big’ for me in a way that life probably never tops. I mean, you spend your life looking at square CRT TV screens, and then… then, there’s this! Gigantic, blazing bright, casting everything else into its shadow. And the sound! Rumbling, roaring. You can literally, if it’s the desired effect, hear a pin drop, with crystal clarity. The inside of my mouth is a war zone - the salt of butter popcorn crashing against the sticky sweetness of the 7-up - but my mind is in perfect harmony, every sense bent to the task of absorbing the story playing out in front of me. And it’s not my first rodeo. Jedi was my first. Of that, I remember little that I can place with clarity from that viewing (as opposed to the many tens of times I have seen the film since). Vader’s mask appearing to glower from the screen, dwarfing the whole room with its malevolent presence. Luke’s green lightsaber. The crackle of lightning and fizz of sabers clashing. Little more.
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