Freezing, I get my new friends to hold my place in the queue while I grab a hot chocolate. In the cafe across the road, a girl stares at her phone. She’s waiting for her boyfriend to join her at the audition. “He’s worried where this new trilogy will sit within the universe, because it might go against a lot of the stuff in the books.” For the next 20 minutes she regales me with how the TV shows and novellas suggest what a new movie might be about. I smile and nod.
I’m only taking Tegan Jones’ word for it, so far, but there looks to be numerous tie-ins – even if they are of the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type – between the “Star Wars” and “Indiana Jones” films, all of which US filmmaker George Lucas has some involvement, to varying degrees, in.
For those of you who skipped my incessant rambling and got straight to the easter egg list, this reference can be found at the beginning of the movie. Indie, Short Round and the ever unpopular Willie have just escaped a nightclub in Shanghai. As their car speeds past the front of the establishment you can see that it’s called “Club Obi Wan”.
Those who like to think they’re somehow part of the “Star Wars” universe can find out what planet they are on in that far, far, away galaxy, based on current weather conditions whatever their current location is on Earth.
Despite it being winter where I am, officially at least, I was told I am on Tatooine the other day… hmm, yes, almost correct, almost.
Could you imagine how “Star Wars” would read if William Shakespeare had written it? Portland author Ian Doescher can. Here’s the Shakespearean version (PDF) of the film’s all too familiar opening scroll:
It is a period of civil war.
The spaceships of the rebels, striking swift
From base unseen, have gain’d a vict’ry o’er
The cruel Galactic Empire, now adrift.
Amidst the battle, rebel spies prevail’d
And stole the plans to a space station vast,
Whose pow’rful beams will later be unveil’d
And crush a planet: ’tis the DEATH STAR blast.
Pursu’d by agents sinister and cold,
Now Princess Leia to her home doth flee,
Deliv’ring plans and a new hope they hold:
Of bringing freedom to the galaxy.
In time so long ago begins our play,
In star-crossed galaxy far, far away.
It has been 30 years since the final “Star Wars” film – sequentially speaking that is – Return of the Jedi, being episode six in the saga, was released.
While I don’t know where Luke Skywalker would be now, 30 years downstream, in terms of the story’s timeline, it is clear he never returned to his childhood home on Tatooine, given its current state of repair. After what happened there of course, who could blame him though?
Wired physics writer Rhett Allain goes about estimating the crew compliment of the Death Star from “Star Wars”… needless to say figuring out how many people could be aboard a vessel the size of a small moon isn’t that simple, so Allain started out by analysing the size of far smaller naval craft:
I went through the list of US Navel Wessels and tried to get one of each class. In order to calculate the volume, I had to make a couple of guesses. First, I had to guess the height of the ship. Wikipedia seems to list the draft (which would be the depth of the ship below water level – I think). So, I just kind of guessed at the height. Really, in my mind I pictured the ship as a rectangle. So, the height listed is my approximation of how tall the ship would be if it were squashed into a rectangular cube.
Essentially, did Darth Vader engineer the destruction of the otherwise virtually unassailable Death Star in A New Hope? The ambitions he voiced in The Empire Strikes Back really leaves little doubt if you ask me.
I doubt we’ll ever stop analysing events of the Star Wars film saga, and now I read that Han Solo’s recording breaking Kessel Run trip, in the Millennium Falcon, makes him a time traveller:
Because the shortened Kessel Run spans 12 parsecs (39.6 light-years), a ship traveling nearly light-speed would take a little more than 39.6 years to get there. Factoring in time dilation, anyone watching the Kessel Run would see Solo speeding along for almost 40 years, but Solo himself would experience only a little more than half a day. If you haven’t picked out the potential pitfall for the Star Wars timeline I’ll spell it out: In the time it takes Han to complete just one Kessel Run, the rest of the galaxy battles, negotiates, and force-chokes its way through almost 40 years – and pushes the date of Solo’s birth 40 years further into the past.
It has to be remembered though that Solo made a number of unspecified special modifications to the Millennium Falcon, I’d say one of these somehow restores order to the space/time continuum, making all of his jaunts, Kessel Run or not, happen in real time.