In France, the Force is strong with lightsaber dueling
Master Yoda, dust off his French, he must.
It’s now easier than ever in France to act out “Star Wars”
fantasies, because its fencing federation has borrowed from a galaxy far, far
away and officially recognized lightsaber dueling as a competitive sport,
granting the iconic weapon from George Lucas’ saga the same status as the foil,
epee and sabre, the traditional blades used at the Olympics.
Of course, the LED-lit, rigid polycarbonate lightsaber replicas
can’t slice a Sith lord in half. But they look and, with the more expensive
sabers equipped with a chip in their hilt that emits a throaty electric rumble,
even sound remarkably like the silver screen blades that Yoda and other
characters wield in the blockbuster movies.
Plenty realistic, at least, for duelists to work up an
impressive sweat slashing, feinting and stabbing in organized, 3-minute bouts.
The physicality of lightsaber combat is part of why the French Fencing
Federation threw its support behind the sport and is now equipping fencing
clubs with lightsabers and training would-be lightsaber instructors. Like
virtuous Jedi knights, the French federation sees itself as combating a Dark
Side: The sedentary habits of 21st-century life that are sickening ever-growing
numbers of adults and kids .
“With young people today, it’s a real public health issue.
They don’t do any sport and only exercise with their thumbs,” says Serge
Aubailly, the federation secretary general. “It’s becoming difficult to
(persuade them to) do a sport that has no connection with getting out of the
sofa and playing with one’s thumbs. That is why we are trying to create a bond
between our discipline and modern technologies, so participating in a sport
feels natural.”
In the past, the likes of Zorro, Robin Hood and The Three
Musketeers helped lure new practitioners to fencing. Now, joining and even
supplanting them are Luke Skywalker , Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader.
“Cape and sword movies have always had a big impact on our
federation and its growth,” Aubailly says. ”Lightsaber films have the same
impact . Young people want to give it a try.”
And the young at heart.
Police officer Philippe Bondi, 49, practiced fencing for 20
years before switching to lightsaber. When a club started offering classes in
Metz, the town in eastern France where he is stationed for the gendarmerie,
Bondi says he was immediately drawn by the prospect of living out the love he’s
had for the Star Wars universe since he saw the first film at age 7, on its
release in 1977 .
He fights in the same wire-mesh face mask he used for
fencing. He spent about 350 euros ($400) on his protective body armor (sturdy
gloves, chest, shoulder and shin pads) and on his federation-approved
lightsaber, opting for luminous green “because it’s the Jedi colors, and Yoda
is my master.”
“I had to be on the good side, given that my job is
upholding the law,” he said.
Bondi awoke well before dawn to make the four-hour drive
from Metz to a national lightsaber tournament outside Paris this month that
drew 34 competitors. It showcased how far the sport has come in a couple of
years but also that it’s still light years from becoming mainstream.
The crowd was small and a technical glitch prevented the
duelers’ photos, combat names and scores from being displayed on a big screen,
making bouts tough to follow. But the illuminated swooshes of colored blades
looked spectacular in the darkened hall. Fan cosplay as Star Wars characters
added levity, authenticity and a tickle of bizarre to the proceedings,
especially the incongruous sight of Darth Vader buying a ham sandwich and a bag
of potato chips at the cafeteria during a break.
In building their sport from the ground up, French
organizers produced competition rules intended to make lightsaber dueling both
competitive and easy on the eyes.
“We wanted it to be safe, we wanted it to be umpired and,
most of all, we wanted it to produce something visual that looks like the
movies, because that is what people expect,” said Michel Ortiz, the tournament
organizer.
Combatants fight inside a circle marked in tape on the
floor. Strikes to the head or body are worth 5 points; to the arms or legs, 3
points; on hands, 1 point. The first to 15 points wins or, if they don’t get
there quickly, the high scorer after 3 minutes. If both fighters reach 10
points, the bout enters “sudden death,” where the first to land a head- or
body-blow wins, a rule to encourage enterprising fighters.
Blows only count if the fighters first point the tip of
their saber behind them. That rule prevents the viper-like, tip-first quick
forward strikes seen in fencing. Instead, the rule encourages swishier blows
that are easier for audiences to see and enjoy, and which are more evocative of
the duels in Star Wars. Of those, the battle between Obi-Wan and Darth Maul in
“The Phantom Menace” that ends badly for the Sith despite his double-bladed
lightsaber is particularly appreciated by aficionados for its swordplay.
Still nascent, counting its paid-up practitioners in France
in the hundreds, not thousands, lightsaber dueling has no hope of a place in
the Paris Olympics in 2024.
But to hear the thwack of blades and see them cut shapes
through the air is to want to give the sport a try.
Or, as Yoda would say: “Try not. Do! Or do not. There is no
try.”