Sir Alec Guinness: 1914 ­ 2000.
A Tribute.

It took me a long time to decide how to do this piece. How can I eulogize someone who has meant so much to so many? Ultimately, I decided a short, subtle approach would best suit Sir Alec Guinness, the Man Who Was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Of course, he¹d have preferred it if no one had ever mentioned that name or anything having to do with Star Wars ever again. It¹s not that Guinness hated Star Wars or regretted taking on the role of the greatest Jedi Knight that ever lived. Rather, he hated the undue attention he received for the part. Credit where Star Wars was concerned, Guinness thought, was more deserved by George Lucas and the creative teams behind that Alpha and Omega of a film. Mostly humble, occasionally self-promoting, and dashed with a hint of high-minded British pomp, Guinness preferred his older films for the opportunities they gave him to flex his muscles as an actor. And who could blame him? A classically trained actor with more talent in his left ear than all of this current generation of twenty-something ³artists² combined, his skill on stage and in front of a camera redefined what it meant to be an actor, and routinely sent his peers home feeling inadequate, insubstantial. He was, simply put, a magnificent performer with a subtle approach and an understated charm that beguiled audiences of every generation privileged to bear witness to his work. For me, it was always his voice, and the boundless talent he had for using that voice to deliver lines perfectly. Guinness always knew exactly how a line should be said, and his confidence in that radiated off him with such power you thought the actors performing alongside him might well be bowled right over.

But in my heart, and the hearts of all the Dairy Farmers, he shall always be (apologies, Sir Alec) Obi-Wan Kenobi. Who better to play the aging, burdened Jedi at last facing his destiny than Guinness? In nineteen years I¹ve not been able to come up with an answer, and neither, it seems, was George Lucas. Guinness played Kenobi with the same transcendent strength and unwavering dignity as all his roles, but in playing a character unlike any he¹d ever attempted before, and in a genre that is mocked as often as it is praised, Guinness injected a new level of meaning and respect into the world of science fiction and fantasy, making it more recognized, more significant. I shall never forget the first time Guinness pulled off the hood of the wizened Jedi¹s face and gave us a glimpse into the futureŠand the past. I will never fail to smile when Kenobi¹s luminescent spirit emerges from the swamps of Dagobah, reminding Luke Skywalker ³Yoda will always be with you.² I will cheer every time Kenobi effortlessly decapitates Ponda Baba in the Mos Eisley Cantina. I get a warm feeling in my heart every time Return of the Jedi ends and Obi-Wan stands proudly beside Yoda and Anakin, immersed in the light side of the Force. And I still get chills every time his voice booms in Luke¹s head at the climax of A New Hope: ³Remember, Luke ­ the Force will be with you. Always.² All this because of Sir Alec Guinness. When he died, a little piece of Obi-Wan Kenobi died as well, and things will never be quite the same again. His passing drives a dagger in the hearts of all of us. We shall miss you, Sir Alec. Safe journey, and thank you.

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John Paige
8.18.2000

Dairy Farmers For Quebec's Independence