everyone's so familiar with the familiar song and dance about Star Wars being the Woodstock of our generation, about how Joseph Campbell and the power of myth powered the most comprehensive comparative religion fable rolled into one tell-all amazing sci-fi epic of epic proportions that you could probably just puke. The truth is, that crap just sells more tickets to pseudo-intellectuals who need to rationalize going for the eleventh time to see a movie about their most deeply rooted fear: impotence and premature ejaculation. Star Wars is one big cock tale about one and only one thing, the ability to get and keep it up all the way to the end.
Start by just looking at the poster. Just as the Empire Strikes Back poster was a direct rip off of the Gone With the Wind marquee, the style-A one-sheet for Star Wars is a classic rip-off of the original cover art for The Great Gatsby. In that image, the face of Daisy is hovering above the city, the milieu in which Tom Buchanan and Jay Gatsby battle it out for her affections. Luke and Han stand in for Tom and Jay in this case, with Leia representing Daisy, obviously, but the real clincher here is the equation of sex and death as Darth Vader represents the ur-feminine principle that must be conquered, who is both an embodiment of Luke's worst fears via the sins of his (literally) "dark father," as well as the cosmic representation of the anima as female she-bitch whose dark side is tamed only in sexual conquest. In the poster, a swimming load of semen ejaculates from Leia's side as X and Y-wing chromosomes blast their way up to fertilize and impregnate the cosmic egg of the Death Star, which as everyone by now has memorized, has a narrow trench with a small hole at the end, in which only a "direct hit" will trigger her. Thus, Star Wars is both a macroscopic psychological retelling of the ancient tale with a microscopic biological pr�cis as to its physical achievement.
The X-wing fighters, you recall, have a phallus-shaped nose from which the payload of deathlove must, literally, come. Lots of folks get confused by the fact that the four cannons on each end of the X-wings are the source of the laser beams, but remember, to trigger the death star's chain reaction, you have to fire proton torpedoes from the nose of the craft. These protein torpedoes, as we shall see, do more than just hit their mark and send her shuddering into a cosmic orgasm—recreating what the French call the "little death"—but they also reinstigate the cosmic cycle of rebirth, as the Phoenix of the empire rises from her own ashes only to be done in again and again symbolically and literally in each subsequent film.
What is Luke's tool for fighting this cosmic sex goddess? He must acquire, then learn, then master his father's sexual mysticism, the force, the primary weapon of which is mental control for the physical handling of a light saber. The film opens with Luke in the same psycho-sexual status as that of the film's primary audience—he is eleven years old, just beginning to understand the power he holds in his hands. Then, through the trustworthy guidance of his elderly loving uncle whose pedophilia is all too understandable in the context of this already dysfunctional family drama (for Luke will ultimately discover that the object of his affection is the ultimate taboo—his sister!), Luke begins to play at swordsmanship with this strange new tool that erects on command with the slightest caress. The phallic connections between swords and penises are far too exhaustively covered in the last hundred years of Freudian literature, and suffice it to say that we won't elaborate on them here, but it is worth noting that the purpose of his training is to learn the art of the slow build, the gentle arousal of his conquest, which is consistently contrasted throughout with Han Solo's wham-bam-thank-you-maam approach of the holstered blaster, ready to pull out, fire, and put away at a moment's notice.
But if swordfighting is merely a symbolic cover for cockfighting, then why does Luke not fight Darth Vader, and why does Darth beat Ben Kenobi in the long awaited master-disciple duel? The answer lies in the fact that Luke's ultimate goal is not his sister, nor his father (who we discover in round two is merely Luke fighting himself), but is the feminine structure of the cosmos itself. Thus Luke begins his training by fighting a miniature death star, the small seeker robot that zaps him whenever he lets his guard down. As in the art of love, Luke must master the art of sexual conquest with the lights out, thus the need for the helmet that covers his eyes. The training scene is also the one in which his masculine rival, Han Solo, taunts him mercilessly for his silly belief in the mysticism of the kama sutra. "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid." Later, Han confesses his real frustration over his own inability to satisfy a woman: "Look, going good against remotes is one thing. Going good against the living? That's something else."
Luke, who doesn't even realize it, has become gay. In love with Ben Kenobi, in jealous affection of Han Solo, Luke's ultimate need is to either destroy or be reconciled with his father, whose childhood abandonment and subsequent raising by an overbearing aunt and a gruff uncle have clearly led to his latent rage over his own misunderstood identity, now must prove himself alpha male in the ensuing outerspace dogfight to regain what little sense of his own masculinity remains. Biggs, his childhood companion and love interest (note the name, indicating his dominant position), is reunited with Luke at the battle station, a scene in the screenplay that was cut from the final film, but which is nevertheless poignantly pointed to during the space fight when Bigg's loses his life in sacrifice to Luke's quest.
And just what are the instructions to our young fighter pilots? "The approach will not be easy. You are required to maneuver straight down this trench and skim the surface to this point. The target area is only two meters wide. It's a small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port. The shaft leads directly to the reactor system. A precise hit will start a chain reaction which should destroy the station."
This is perhaps Star Wars dirtiest little secret: that shooting your wad to destroy her requires not taking the approach of the main vaginal port (which would impregnate her), but delivering your load anally, to the "small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port." Luke's latent homosexuality is unrecognized by him but clearly recognized by Vader, well-versed in the ways of black leather and masked identity, who senses the boy's dark sexual ambition and comments, "The force is strong in this one."
We see Luke's worst fears of premature ejaculation embodied in Red Leader's supposed hit. "It's away!" he screams, and then Red Nine shouts, "It's a hit!" but Red Leader flaccidly replies, "Negative! It didn't go in. It just impacted on the surface." At this point, the Death Star is one minute from firing range of the rebel base, and the game is to conquer the impatient dominatrix or be conquered by her.
Luke ends up practically all alone, with his neurotic-compulsive father telling him "bad boy, don't do it" on one shoulder and Uncle Ben saying "good boy, you can do it" on the other, and at the last minute, gets an assist from Han Solo, whose ultimate sexual loneliness is implicitly suggested in his name's etymology: Hand Solo gets the job done the only way he knows how, by himself on himself. It is Han's willingness to finally confess his weakness that leads him to help Luke in what he has up until this point thought to be a lost cause. Luke fires his proteins, and immediately jerks back in his seat as the sexual tension releases itself in his body. Han admits his pride in seeing Luke win a battle that he himself had all but given up on when he says, "Great shot, kid. That was one in a million." Han's courage, in fact, is lifted so high by his friend's success that he manages to wink at Leia at the closing ceremony, thinking "Maybe it's not too late for me after all."
Luke, as we all know by now, goes on to not only master his sexual force and his tool, but becomes a monk in devotion to the sacred power of his sexual energy, releasing his sister Leia from their incestuous love and freeing her to teach some of his wisdom to the randy and untrained Solo. We look forward to episodes 7, 8, and 9 to see just how much of this wisdom Solo can gain.