Darth shadows

In the parking lot next to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, amid throngs of tourists and cruisers lingering deep into a recent Sunday night, preparations continue for an ongoing cosmic battle between good and evil. Cloaked against the dazzle of Hollywood Boulevard at night, Jedi master Aaron Mosny, 21, is training his apprentice, or padawan, Elliot Evans, also 21, in the ways of the Force. The two stand among a dozen or so people camped out to see the first showing of “Star Wars: Episode III Revenge of the Sith.”

Mosny and Evans wear neutral-colored Jedi robes and hold realistic-looking lightsabers. “A lesson can be as simple as a question,” says Mosny, a sharp, well-spoken guy with close-cropped hair. “I will ask him a question, and if he doesn’t answer it correctly, I’ll ask it again, at another time. The lesson is to meditate on your answer.”

“I hate that lesson,” laughs Evans, a big man with hippie-ish mannerisms and a padawan braid falling out from his long blond mane. The red tie on his braid means he started training after age 16, but Evans says Jedi lessons and saberfighting for the last year have already redirected some of his youthful rage, allowing him to get along better with his mother. He points out that the “Star Wars” lineup at Grauman’s -- a likely vain effort by die-hards to persuade moviemakers to premiere “Sith” at the venue where the series began -- raises money (through sponsorship) for the Starlight Starbright Children’s Foundation, which provides resources for seriously ill children.

Mosny and Evans might be anomalies at the “Star Wars” encampment -- there are no other Jedi lined up here -- but they are far from alone. To thousands of similarly passionate followers around the globe, the “Star Wars” franchise is great entertainment and upbeat future mythology. People want to do more than watch it or read it; they want to live it.

Sure, you may go to Dodger games with your face painted blue, or stand outside the Michael Jackson trial holding a sign declaring your support. But in the “Star Wars” “expanded universe” -- a term used by Lucasfilm to describe the books, films, video games and fan-generated ephemera surrounding the Vader saga -- fandom can be a way of life. An ethos. Even a path to enlightenment, or at least getting along better with your mom.

With “Sith” opening today and “Star Wars” turning 28 this year, the expanded universe is glowing like a lightsaber. Its adherents are not only studying Jediism, but also having “Star Wars” weddings, naming their children after principal characters, making unofficial books and movies, fashioning expensive costumes of their own, and trudging to conventions such as the recent Celebration III in Indianapolis, where George Lucas addressed a crowd estimated at 30,000.

A couple of hooded Jedi knights don’t stand out much on this stretch of Hollywood, peopled as it is with wizards in tall black hats, nearly-nude 7-foot-tall demons with wings, and the occasional Elvis impersonator wandering over from Grauman’s. But like the Mos Eisley Cantina on Tatooine, that suits the Jedi. It gives some cover to the seriousness of their mission. For Mosny and Evans, being a Jedi -- the warrior order fighting the evil Emperor and the dark side of the Force in the “Star Wars” movies and books -- is their professed religion and life philosophy.

“People say to us, ‘Lucas is your pope,’ or, ‘You worship ‘Star Wars,’ ” Mosny says, flipping his lightsaber on and off. “No. In fact, the religion does not come from ‘Star Wars.’ Jediism, if you had to sum it up, is close to Buddhism, Taoism and Bushido, the samurai way of the warrior.”

Lucas, Mosny says, didn’t have to invent a religion. He just gave a cool new name and heroic powers to a compelling syncretism of three existing disciplines -- philosophies and practices already followed by millions in what we’d like to call “real life.” “Star Wars” was simply a vehicle to bring these Eastern beliefs to Western people. The Jedi saga is a story, a grand allegory, but it’s a story that’s no different, he says, than the Bible. The fact that we’re sitting about 50 yards from the L. Ron Hubbard Gallery -- named for the science fiction writer whose nonfiction work spawned Scientology -- adds weird context to our discussion.

The Jedi orders, loosely affiliated practitioners of the philosophy, now reportedly number in the thousands worldwide. When Mosny’s boss at respected software firm Genex questioned his professed Jediism, two other workers there came forward and also identified themselves as students of Jedi. He ended up funding Mosny’s start-up company, Saberology, which makes “duelsabers” -- lightsabers with aluminum handles and illuminated, hard-plastic blades. In fact, though “Sith” may be the last “Star Wars” movie, it could be only the beginning for the Jedi.

Not that Lucas himself is encouraging this kind of fanaticism. “This is what George says: If it helps you in your life, super. But it shouldn’t take over your life,” says Steve Sansweet, director of content management and head of fan relations at Lucasfilm. Sansweet, for nine years the Los Angeles bureau chief for the Wall Street Journal, began working with Lucas after amassing one of the world’s largest collections of “Star Wars” toys and memorabilia.

“There’s lots of mythological underpinnings in ‘Star Wars:’ the journey, the hero’s quest, the mentor,” he adds. “And if people want to adopt something that helps them in their daily lives? Great. Jediism as a religion? No. That’s a bunch of hokey.”

Yeah, they’re a little like Trekkies, those who love the “Star Trek” universe. But few Trekkies have proposed that their philosophies earn federal recognition as an actual religion.

Theresa Brown, who was on the “Star Wars” line at Grauman’s with her 16-year-old son, says that few take it quite that seriously. “There are some very die-hard fans who believe in that whole philosophy,” she says. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a good code of ethics to live by.”

Mosny says that religious recognition is an important step for the Jedi.

“The reason it’s not a nationally recognized religion yet is that there has not been any singularity to the movement,” Mosny says. Evans points out that thousands of people write “Jedi” as their religious affiliation on the census reports in Australia and England, and that there are major Jedi temples in London and Romania.

“Someone needs to take all of them and compress them into one thing,” Mosny says. “And then it will become an actual religion, where people can have the tax write-off and all that good stuff. That’s the goal.”

Stormtrooper 501st

San Pedro resident William Miyamoto was 33 when he felt the shift in the Force that transformed him from a die-hard “Star Wars” collector to a man who would be married in his costume. He had collected toys and memorabilia since the original Star Wars in 1977, but around 2000 he ran across a custom-made suit of Stormtrooper armor on the Internet and felt something he hadn’t felt before: He wanted not only to collect this, but to wear it everywhere. He wanted to make this part of his identity.

The website, it turns out, belonged to a member of the 501st Legion of Imperial Stormtroopers, a nonprofit costuming club that claims 2,500 members worldwide. Soon, Miyamoto was commanding officer of the Southern California Garrison, and his armor had become a huge part of his life.

The 501st was started by a North Carolina “Star Wars” fan named Albin Johnson in the late 1990s, bringing together those who made their own costumes. According to the official charter of the 501st, “the Legion’s aims are to celebrate the ‘Star Wars’ movies through the wearing of costumes, to promote the quality and improvement of costumes and props, and most importantly to contribute to the local community through charity and volunteer work.”

The number 501 itself was not taken from the “Star Wars” lore; Johnson simply made it up. And anyone selling costumes using the “Star Wars” name will receive a cease-and-desist order. However, in a sign of the symbiotic relationship between Lucas and his fans, Lucasfilm’s Sansweet now contacts the 501st when costumed promotional help is needed at events, premieres -- even Burger King commercials (Miyamoto did two print ads for Lucasfilm). The 501st has also been written into Timothy Zahn’s “Star Wars” novel “Survivor’s Quest,” as well as “The Visual Dictionary of Star Wars, Episode III.”

Miyamoto’s garrison works closely with City of Hope National Medical Center in Duarte, as well as the March of Dimes and other charities, putting on events and fundraisers for children. Right away, his fantasy life as a Stormtrooper became emotionally connected to real children in real trouble.

“When I do these events for children, you’ve got like these 5- and 6-year-olds coming up to you, hugging you, looking you right in the eye and saying, ‘Oh, I love you,’ ” says Miyamoto, 38. “Even when I’m wearing the Darth Vader costume. You get this pure love from them. That’s why I do it.”

Sometimes, he says soberly, his troopers visit kids who are terminally ill. “Their parent will run up to you and say, ‘Oh my God, thank you so much. I haven’t seen her smile in over a year.’ It’s stuff like that that makes it worth it.”

Cindy Brandon, 37, was only 16 when she first went out dressed as Princess Leia to promote “Star Wars” at the Mall of Orange. Her dad would go too, in a shiny C-3PO costume borrowed from a guy they met at a convention. There was no such thing as the 501st back then, but she and her Garden Grove family would often meet other freelancers who’d turn up randomly in malls, at charity events and at film premieres, often doing it on their own for free movie passes. A family tradition was born, and Brandon is still doing events now, for the launch of “Sith.”

“What I got out of ‘Star Wars’ was just that it was all about love,” Brandon says. “It’s good versus evil. Luke Skywalker sacrificed everything to save his father. And that was all love. You always think: What problems do I have? Look at poor Luke!”

One of the people Brandon and Miyamoto would run into was Michael Senna, who built a remote-controlled R2-D2, always a hit with the kids. When Senna makes appearances with his R2, he stashes the remote in a bag, giving the impression the little ‘droid is making the rounds on its own. An electrical engineer by training and now a computer programmer, the model took him 11 months and about $5,000 to build. Part of the fun, he says, is tapping into the networks of R2 builders (there’s a Yahoo group, for starters) who make custom parts. He also believes “Star Wars” poses no conflict at all with his Christian beliefs, but brings important moral lessons to the kids.

For all of them, “Star Wars” is more than a hobby -- it’s their community. William Miyamoto and his wife, Nicole, decided to make it part of their lives forever.

The two met at the touring Magic of Myth exhibition in San Diego, where she asked to sketch him in his Stormtrooper costume, and as things got more serious, he jokingly suggested a themed wedding. He assumed his bride-to-be would want something more traditional. She did: They ditched the Stormtrooper armor and modeled their wedding costumes after a princess and a Jedi.

The party favors for their Long Beach wedding were 150 tiny teddy bears in hand-made Jedi robes. The centerpieces were 4-foot lightsabers. The entire wedding party and most of those attending were in full costume. An ordained friend then married them dressed, of course, as Obi-Wan Kenobi. All on May 25, 2003, the 26th anniversary of the Star Wars debut.

“All our friends’ weddings seemed to kind of meld together, and some of them we don’t even remember,” Miyamoto says. “But this wedding, people are still talking about it.”

Good always wins

At some point in his life, young Anakin Cote will probably want everyone to stop thinking of “Star Wars” every time they hear his name. But his dad, 33-year-old Steve Cote, a lifelong “Star Wars” memorabilia collector in Glendale and a stage technician on the soap opera “Passions,” is proud, saying it’s unique.

“In my school, there was always like two or three Steves,” Cote says, “so I got tired of growing up with a bunch of Steves. I said, I’m going to name my kid something that you’re not going to find on a cup at Disneyland. Anakin is a cool name.”

Anakin is 5 now. His 19-month-old brother is named Jacen (pronounced jassen), after Princess Leia’s son with Han Solo in the “Star Wars” books.

But -- Anakin? The guy who turns into Darth Vader, the super-villain of six of the best-known movies ever made (with, apparently, all to come out soon in 3-D), killer of the Jedi? Yes, says Cote, and most people’s reaction is overwhelmingly positive. Anakin may be a little dark, but he is the Jedi who not only is the father of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, but the messiah, the chosen one who will bring back “balance” between the light and dark sides of the Force when Luke finally brings out his paternal love.

“Ultimately, that’s the point,” Cote explains. “It’s said in ‘Empire Strikes Back,’ ‘Once you start down a dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.’ He was able to actually break that rule, and come back to the light side by throwing the emperor down the shaft. Unfortunately, they have to go through 40 years of terror for that to happen.”

This, in fact, may be one of the common threads among “Star Wars” superfans, those who have made the tale part of their life: It satisfies an urge for salvation. Like the “Lord of the Rings” cycle, or “Star Trek,” good triumphs in the end, after much bloodshed and loss. Love prevails. Children smile.

The whole story seems to appeal to those who like their morality served up with a little action. Aaron Mosny, who was actually a padawan for several years, says that his master was a missionary in the Mormon Church, and saw no conflict in also being Jedi.

“In all religions, there is a power, a force, a Zen, or a priesthood or whatever you want to call it. In our religion, it is called the Force,” Mosny says. “All those other religions -- they don’t really have any proof about the creator, but they have proof of this power; that is what they know.”

Evans says his mother is fully supportive of his Jedi studies now, and even teases him about it, saying, “That’s not very Jedi of you” when he screws up. “Sometimes she jokes that I’m not going to get any presents for Hanukkah,” he says, summing up his religious mix by adding, “I’m a Jew-di.”

The books, he and Aaron Mosny recount, contain all the lessons a Jedi need, and they just keep coming. Since 1987, when the “Revised Core Rulebook” to the “Star Wars” role-playing game listed some elements of the Jedi Code, many people have written Jedi guidebooks, but Mosny is writing a new one. He’s working a little each day on “The Living Force: A Modern Jedi’s Guide to the Force” -- his title for the collection of short axioms and observations much like Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War.” He’s hoping it gets the Lucas seal of approval.

But if it doesn’t, he’ll put it out on a website. For the expanded universe. Because he wants to give to that universe. He clearly loves being out on the lineup by Grauman’s, wearing his gear. He loves being part of “Star Wars.” He doesn’t forget that this is fun.

“Basically,” he says, a little sotto voce, “what it comes down to is we are ‘Star Wars’ fans. And we are in line to see ‘Star Wars,’ and that’s what this is all about. We’re here because of tradition. And because ‘Star Wars’ is cool.”

Dean Kuipers can be reached at weekend@latimes.com.