Recently I watched episodes 2 and 3 of Star Wars, not because of desire, but because my son pushed really hard and I caved. I very intentionally resisted for two decades, and now that I watched these films, I want to go back and un-watch them.

The Canon of My Youth

I have a lot of trouble experiencing movies and television outside of what I consider the canon of my youth.

My fears of having my youthful nostalgia damaged all started back to my excitement at going to see the fourth Indiana Jones movie. I grew up with Temple of Doom and I absolutely loved what they did with The Last Crusade. (Last!)

So it’s no wonder that when faced with the possibility of continuing that excitement, I jumped at the opportunity. I mean, who wouldn’t?

To call what I felt next disappointment just doesn’t cut it.

Aliens!?

It was like taking one of the greatest movie franchises of all time and vomiting all over it. But it’s even worse than that.

I watched the movie, bored out of my mind and annoyed for two hours, only to say in the end, “Aliens? Really? Aliens!?”

The franchise not only decided to crap all over my youth, but to then light it in on fire and dance away giggling with my lunch money in its clutches.

And after that moment, I developed a fear of Hollywood grabbing a hold of pieces of my youth, and irreparably damaging my nostalgia and imagination.

And they are quite consistent about it.

There are movies out there that are borderline perfect, like Annie or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. But Hollywood could never leave well enough alone. There’s money to be made!

And before we know it, Annie and the Karate Kid are black, Cameron Diaz and Johnny Depp have replaced the inimitable Carol Burnett and Gene Wilder, and someone out there is laughing all the way to the bank while I sit at home pondering how they in good conscious could do this to something so precious to so many people.

What About Little Shop of Horrors?

Sometimes a remake is OK. Most don’t even realize that Little Shop of Horrors is a remake of the unwatchable original. Funnily enough, my parents had a VHS of the original. It mentioned Jack Nicholson in giant letters across the front. Why? Because it was the only way they could sell such a bad film… despite the gross misrepresentation. Nicholson appeared in the film way before he achieved fame, he had one line, and maybe was in the movie for about four seconds.

But this is very different. In this situation, they remade a movie that was ripe for remaking. No one had seen the original, nor should they have. It wasn’t good. It was not a classic. It was an integral part of the youthful adoration of movies of exactly no one.

So in this case, they took potential and turned it into something great.

Not so with Annie or the others. There it was taking a Rembrandt and replacing it with some kid’s refrigerator-bound preschool sketch monstrosity. And adding another abysmal Indiana Jones film was scrawling a mustache on the Mona Lisa.

Hyperbole?

Perhaps.

But not to the emotional effect it can have upon someone.

Not My Darth Vader

You see, yes, the original Star Wars movie was episode four. And inherently there is something odd, if not wrong about that.

But putting the numbers aside, the fact is that there is something very special about letting your imagination fill in the gaps. I had twenty years of imagining the history of Darth Vader, the most intense, savage, and badass character in the original trilogy.

And now it’s been tainted. Now he’s a whiny teenage boy whose character arc happened way too quickly. Now he’s a child killer who became obsessed with Natalie Portman. Now he’s the guy who was burnt up by lava shortly before shouting a childish “I hate you” and before he screamed an extraordinarily stereotypical “Noooo” upon finding out said Portman was dead.

What a damaging blow to my imagination!

This is not the Darth Vader I had imagined since I was a child, and now my perspective will forever be tainted.

But What About Cobra Kai?

Now, I say all of this with a level of confusion.

While I was watching this movie, we are in the middle of also watching the fifth season of Cobra Kai. And, admittedly, I approached the show with great caution. I feared it would be the stupid Indiana Jones thing all over again.

But I was surprised and quite pleased when I discovered I actually enjoyed the show. A lot, in fact.

It certainly has its faults, and definitely needs to end already. But something about the show took nostalgia of the past and instead of damaging it, actually added to its legacy.

Fans of the series could never have imagined a future in which Daniel LaRusso’s enemies from the first two movies were walking along reminiscing about the different ways they tormented poor Daniel San. And yet here we have it. The sequel we never knew we wanted until we had it.

What’s the Difference?

So why does one damage my nostalgia and the other one provoke it? Why do Star Wars and Indiana Jones and Annie put me on edge, whereas I get super excited seeing all of these characters from my youth as adults?

Well, first and foremost, I’m not quite sure.

But if I had to guess, there are two factors:

First, it’s an issue of quality.

Forgetting Star Wars

I didn’t like the Star Wars movies, and I absolutely loathed the fourth Indiana Jones movie. Both Annie and Willy Wonka were tacky and unnecessary remakes of classic films that should not have been made. Perhaps if I found any of these remotely enjoyable, it would change my perspective.

The other possibility is whether or not the movies stay true to the originals, and don’t cause any damage to the characters I’ve come to know and love.

Fact is, Cobra Kai didn’t mess with how I felt about the characters from my childhood. Rather, they creatively enhanced how I look at them. The Star Wars movies, on the other hand, I’m trying to forget them so I can go back to thinking about the characters the way I used to.

It’s a major responsibility to mess with people’s youthful nostalgia. Not one to be taken lightly at all.

And those who abuse that responsibility are doing the world a disservice, all to gain a buck. Instead, you’re just damaging legacies.

And there’s nothing OK with that.