Yes, this title is weird, and maybe you don’t like either Star Wars or Pinocchio— or both! That’s ok!! There may be legitimate reasons why, which may be addressed below, and there may be some redemption to be done for those reasons, which may also be addressed below!

*Spoilers for both The Revenge of the Sith and Pinocchio below

Several weeks ago, I went with my sister and my nephew to watch The Revenge of the Sith on the big screen for its 20th Anniversary. I may or may not have cried when a massive “STAR WARS” flashed across the screen in perfect time with John William’s epic score– yes I’m a nerd. Watching the camaraderie between Anakin and Obi-Wan and the cheesy infatuated moments between Anakin and Padme had me grinning and giggling unabashedly. Even as I immersed myself in the fun of it all, I found myself pushing back an increasingly encroaching existential dread. Of course, as a long time Star Wars fan, I knew what was coming. Everyone sitting in the theatre during its premiere in 2005 knew what was coming; such is the nature of sequels. Anakin has got to become Darth Vader sometime within the movie’s 2 hour 20 minute runtime.

Even though I knew what was going to happen, I still found myself desperately hoping against all hope that this time, Anakin would stay faithful to the Light Side of the Force. But of course, it is not the nature of movies to change their outcome, and I had to watch all the painstaking moments when Anakin made subtle choices to eventually embrace the Dark. One scene in particular had me fuming– after revealing to the Jedi Council the plot of Palpatine, who was actually “the Sith we’ve been searching for this whole time,” Anakin is told to obediently wait in the council room while the situation is being confirmed and investigated. At first, Anakin does so begrudgingly. However, the turmoil within Anakin, as expertly depicted by Hayden Christenson (sue me, I think the guy was fantastic), is slowly revealed, and you get the sense that he knew he was going to betray the Jedi all along. In his pride, he had convinced himself that he had nothing left to learn from the Order. As a tear left his eye, I imagined him justifying all he was about to do out of love for Padme. But I, as the all wise and almighty viewer, wanted to scream at him, “NOOOO! You were the chosen one!! You were supposed to destroy the Sith, not join them!!” a la Obi-Wan, in about the next 20 minutes. After the movie’s end, the car ride home was filled with the analytical musings of my sister and I: “if only Anakin would have listened to Yoda’s advice!” “It’s because Anakin was too old– he still felt attachment because he remembered his mother!” and so on, dissecting a not real person’s journey to the Dark Side.

These feelings reminded me of a similar experience with a very different type of story. For my book club, I had been reading a special edition of Pinocchio, special because it included excellent reflections by Franco Nembrini at the end of each chapter. It was my first time reading this classic, and it proved to be a charming yet frustrating experience. “I haaated this story” exclaimed one of my book club friends, passionately. “Pinocchio always makes the wrong choice!” And indeed, she was not wrong. There is one particularly trying moment when Pinocchio, who is on his way home to better his impoverished Papa’s life with a gift of 5 gold shillings, encounters an obviously manipulative fox and cat who tell him that if he “buries his coins in the Field of Miracles,” they will transform overnight into a tree with thousands of gold coins on its branches. As you may have guessed, Pinocchio falls hook, line, and sinker for this lie and immediately changes course to follow them. “This story is painful,” another book club friend replied thoughtfully, “because it is the story of us.”

Maybe I’m alone in this experience, but I find myself constantly justifying my thoughts and choices with a myriad of excuses. It feels like I’m constantly on a quest to prove myself as “not a bad person.” Otherwise, it’s difficult to live with myself day in and day out. It is especially challenging, then, to come face to face with a reflection of myself in the two-way mirror that is Story. I often see myself as a sort of Obi-Wan figure: dutiful, likeable, a strong moral compass. In fact, I WANT to be Obi-Wan: reliable to do whatever it takes to keep evil at bay. Unfortunately, I am actually none of those things. I am Anakin. I am unruly, rebellious, inconsistent, selfish, and too ready to rely on my own strength. I am also not the wise Talking Cricket, speaking the truth with gentleness and strength at the precise time that the situation warrants. No, I am Pinocchio– endlessly defiant, full of good intentions that I promptly abandon at the very first temptation. It is so, so hard to stumble upon the truth of ourselves. Yet… it is the critical point that our whole life depends upon. Without recognizing our miserableness, we can never turn to mercy. Without noticing the everyday evil we so willingly embrace, clinging to with a ferocity of a child refusing to let go of the sharp end of the scissors (…does this happen with other peoples’ children on occasion?!), I can never be redeemed. There’s no HOPE if I don’t ever acknowledge my true self.

I hear your mental objections now, and yes, I know that you’re still inherently good, I know that I’m still inherently good. Which leads me to this question– do you know the ending for Anakin and Pinocchio? I’ll tell you!! Anakin is nailed shut in his own coffin that is his iconic black suit, and acts exactly like you would imagine a man in a menacing black suit and mask to behave. Pinocchio ends up turning into a donkey, because he chooses to behave like one when he willingly goes to the Land of the Boobies (THIS IS WHAT THEY CALL IT IN THE BOOK OK), where it’s just fun fun fun, no school, no chores, no obedience. But that’s not the end. Through some sort of divine intervention, our characters are placed in circumstances and with people who offer them an opportunity to choose differently. Notably, to be who they truly are: a good man, a real boy. And they say “yes,” and when they say “yes,” they change. Their choices shake the foundations of their worlds and make immense, impactful change for the good. It reminds me of one of my favourite quotes, which I just realized is attributed to St. Teresa of Avila, NOT Catherine Doherty, Servant of God, who I was for years convinced said this: “God writes straight with crooked lines.” The beauty and good He brings about through our ugliness is truly astounding. Do you remember the Crucifixion? The descent into Hell? The literal world transforming work that the Saviour laced together, betrayals and thorns and asphyxiation and all? How beautiful is the tapestry that He weaves with our fallen nature and our grace given “yeses” all together in one!

You know what is the best part for me? That even in their darkest, both Anakin and Pinocchio are still LOVEABLE. Oh my word are they ever! Maybe not LIKEABLE, for sure not, but there is still something that makes us love them. My nephew went dressed as Anakin, his favourite character, to the theatre. Pinocchio is the 3rd most translated text in the WORLD. Why? Maybe it’s because we see ourselves reflected in them? Maybe because, the great big wonderful truth of it all, is that even though we are awful, we are still made in the image of Greatness? That the Greatness of God permanently hovers around us, even if it is in potential only? That Love made us to look like Him? Ugh it makes me cry just thinking about it. There is only hope and redemption in knowing that I was not made to stay in the Dark Side forever– that I was made to be Real and in the Light.