The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

Growing up, my world was a whirlwind of arts, culture, and strangely enough, Sci-Fi. My Dad was my hero, a man of constant humor, kindness, and creative influence, who also just so happened to be a world-class science fiction and fantasy nerd. One of the first movies I can remember him taking me to as a child was a matinée of Hercules in New York at the Riverview Theater, starring a pre-Terminator/governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. Shades of Doctor Who, Robbie the Robot, and of course, Star Wars followed, defining my childhood, which was also smoothed over with my mother's more cultured influence of books, art, theater, and fashion. My Halloween costumes always featured some conglomeration of LED lights and internal wiring. I developed a fascination with robots, and alternately, an intense horror of aliens and alien abduction early on. Even lovable '80s icon E.T. was on my top ten list of things to be terrified of, which of course my Dad thought was hilarious. So much so, that he proceeded to buy me E.T.-related memorabilia, which I would subsequently break or lose. One item specifically, a metal TV tray with E.T.'s hideous face emblazoned on it, was a thing of particular disdain. So when I intentionally dented it up beyond usability, instead of throwing it out, my dad placed it directly at the bottom of the basement stairs, just to fuck with me. Idiotically enough, to this day, I still run up the basement stairs, envisioning large-eyed aliens camped out in dark corners, ready to pounce. But despite all this, and also the forced Danish dancing lessons (another story), I still thought my Dad was the coolest — and I still do.

While I was merely a diaper-clad babe when the original Star Wars movie came out, and still pretty much a deer in the headlights when The Empire Strikes Back was released, I was sentient enough to get the gist by the time Return of the Jedi hit screens — the first Star Wars film to introduce the Ewoks. Somehow, my deeply infused hatred of all aliens morphed into mild nervousness and curiosity in regards to the Ewoks. There was something feral about them that rubbed me the wrong way, though. Chewy's grating bray and Yoda's generally creepiness were disconcerting factors for me as well, but somehow less offensive than the scores of other characters and imaginary creatures I'd been so taken aback by in the past. My first exposure to the epic horror film, E.T., had come the previous year, and my reputation for being an irrationally and randomly alarmed child had already cemented itself by this point, so I think my parents must have been pleasantly surprised when I didn't need to sleep with the lights on for the next three weeks.

Into my early teen years (basically, before the internet boom hit) I became obsessed with BBSing, which, for those of you who only got into computers post-AOL, was an early form of online communication that allowed users to dial up via phone line and log in to a private server with a very simple, text-based program that allowed you to post on message boards, play text-games, leave messages for other users, or, say, download the Anarchist's Cookbook. BBS's were usually run out of someone's mother's basement, if you catch my drift. The kind of kids who were BBSers were usually total nerds - not only computer nerds, but Dungeons and Dragons nerds, sci-fi nerds, and in one particular case, a samurai sword-collecting nerd. One kid I met, Jeff, was a stereotypical, pretentious, 16-year-old computer geek with a long black trench coat and a penchant for blowing things up. As an already-been-to-juvie 14-year-old, I, of course, found this incredibly charming. One of my clearest memories of him includes us being run out of his grandmother's house for melting a Luke Skywalker action figure over a candle in his bedroom. We then walked to the mall, watched Doc Hollywood, and made out, which aside from the making out part, didn't seem nearly as cool. At any rate, my attraction to angsty, self-important geeks was born. The list of dudes I've hitched my train to who would give their first born to meet C3PO is embarrassingly long.

These days, I still have a soft spot for all things Science Fiction related, and usually, if I haven't had too much wine or fallen asleep with my computer on my lap, I read myself to sleep with some sort of paperback space odyssey. I am easily coaxed on the bandwagon for a sci-fi series like Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Firefly. I've even held a Star Wars Trilogy brunch. (I've also had a House Party Trilogy brunch, so don't be too impressed.) So naturally, when I heard the Star Wars exhibit was coming to the Science Museum I was excited to cover it. Going to a press preview for something like this, something that hundreds of wannabe Jedis have paid $100 each to get the first glimpse of later that night, was prrretty damn cool for a girl like me.

The exhibit itself is a sprawling display filled with Star Wars fan drool-inspiring artifacts. Dozens of protective cases containing actual costumes, models, and mechanics from the Star Wars films pepper the space, filled in with interactive displays, such as an engineering design lab where show-goers can put together simple R2D2-style mini-robots step by step at mobility, programming, and sensor stations. Included in the exhibit is an actual hovercraft that attendees can try out for themselves - sort of a futuristic version of a bumper car. There is an interactive robotics station where you can control dangerous looking (and sounding) mechanical legs, along with plenty of other computerific games and experiments to try. There's even a large-scale model of a Jawa sandcrawler, where visitors are treated to a video hosted by C3PO and real-world robotics Engineer Cynthia Breazeal, director of the Robotic Life Group at the MIT Media Lab.

The most fun to me, however, was inspecting the costumes. Eight foot tall Chewbakka suits with impressive detailing and perfectly coiffed fur stand at attention. Scuffed up Darth Vader helmets, gleaming light-saber hilts, and assorted futuristic weaponry shine from behind plexiglass. My favorite was a somewhat mangy Storm Trooper uniform from The Empire Strikes Back that looked like it was made out of parts from Ax-Man Surplus and a pair of cut up, dirty, inside-out white sweatpants cleverly patched together — so much for big budgets! These were no replicas, these were the real deal. To think that I was separated merely by a thin sheet of glass from the bonafide Yoda puppet actually put a few more stars in my eyes than I expected it to.

Although I did wish I could have been around to witness the most definite spectacle that must have been the public preview party later that night, I relished the fact that I got to lay eyes on it first, just like any proper Star Wars nerd would. Not to mention, I got to meet the guy who played C3PO, who, by the way, really sounds exactly like C3PO...and actually looks like him too, minus all the bling.

And in case you're wondering, I am single, and currently accepting applications from angsty nerds of all varieties. Aliens that have taken over human bodies need not apply.


The Star Wars exhibit runs through August 24th, 8:30am-11:30pm Daily, Science Museum of MN, 120 W. Kellogg Blvd., St. Paul, $19, Advance tickets recommended and available HERE.