A loud, lanky boy runs across a green field. He falls to the ground, and then a bearded, middle-aged man jumps upon him. The man is trying to save the kid, who has fallen, but the boy just giggles and shrieks, like a puppy in heat. This isn't a scene from daddy/twink porn or an Xavier Dolan movie. It's from the third act of George Lucas' Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. The man is one Qwi Gon Jin, an older, paternal Jedi figure and the boy, of course, is Jar Jar Binks—a controversial character in a film that inspired a generation of LGBT youth.

In the face of mainstream condemnation, many gay and transgender people adore The Phantom Menace. When Episode I debuted in 1999, critics and fans lambasted it. Hostel director Eli Roth said it was "more like A Bug's Life than Star Wars," and a critic for the Hollywood Reporter wrote that the film "vacillates between ponderous solemnity and a distressing tendency towards silly shtick." An entire generation of gay and trans youth, on the other hand, disagreed with the general dismissal of Lucas' return to their fathers' beloved sci-fi saga.

In the 90s, many parents believed their children would grow up to be just like them: cis breeders. Little did they know that their kids were covert members of a rebel alliance whose mission was to destroy the evil, heteronormative empire. In 1999, fathers brought their sons to The Phantom Menace premiere. They believed they were handing the torch of Star Wars to their prodigies, like a Jedi Master who affectionately trains a young Padawan, or Jedi Initiate. But, much like Obi-Wan was unaware that Anakin would defy the norm and join Senator Palpatine on the Dark Side of the Force, American dads failed to foresee that The Phantom Menace was the forbidden fruit that would tempt their children toward the queer side of life. Sean, a young man in his 20s, remembers watching The Phantom Menace with his dad. He attended a conservative Catholic school, and viewed fantasy films as an escape. Walking out of the theatre, Sean says he asked his father, "Did you like that?"

The Phantom Menace was a campy and colorful film, whereas the original trilogy is dark and utilitarian. In Episodes IV, V, and VI culture has been stripped from the Star Wars universe, and there's a reason for that. "It reflects a different and darker time in the galaxy," Aaron explains. "In Episode I you see a different side of Star Wars. The spaceships are sleek and clean, the costumes are rich and elaborate, the cities on Naboo are bright and colorful. It lends a different texture and culture to the galaxy that reflects a happier time. The only things that really appear utilitarian are the exteriors of the Trade Federation's ships, which look very dull, militant, and lifeless."

"Everyone remembers Amidala in the first movie!" Aaron, a twenty-something trans femme Star Wars fan, exclaims. "Like, I still see her referenced as a icon 16 years later . [Amidala] had so many costume changes, and each one hinted at the history and culture of her home world." There was so much meticulous attention to detail, her whole wardrobe is beautiful and fascinating. They look like couture archive pieces. The costume designer made a lot of references to aspects of Japanese and Himalayan traditional costumes. I guess some people would call cultural appropriation, but it's hard for me to arbitrate the line between inspiration and appropriation."

Disguising herself as a handmaiden so as not to reveal her true self, living that double life. It's certainly something I can relate to.

Niv and Sean aren't the only queer fans who were moved by the Queen of Naboo. Aimee, a transgender woman, watches all six of the Star Wars films annually and cries every time. Her favorite character is Queen Amidala. In The Phantom Menace, a handmaiden named Sabé ( portrayed by Keira Knightly) acts as Padmé's decoy in order distract the Queen's political enemies. To throw the Trade Federation off Padmé's scent, Padmé dons drab brown robes, and Sabé, the decoy, dresses like a drag queen. It's that subterfuge that speaks to Aimee, who lived in secret with her trans female identity for years. "Disguising herself as a handmaiden so as not to reveal her true self, living that double life," Aimee says. "It's certainly something I can relate to."

There are queer easter eggs throughout The Phantom Menace. Niv, a trans male dancer and artist in his 20s, says, "Everyone [in _The Phantom Menace_] is in drag. That always wins me. Amidala does some fun identity switching too."

Aaron agrees with Niv's analysis, stating that, "Jar Jar is a problem! I definitely vote no on queer icon. I don't see him as a trans or gay, but maybe asexual and aromantic or something."

Many transgender Star Wars fans have a complicated, critical relationship to Jar Jar. Niv elaborates, explaining that Jar Jar, "is a caricature of a Jamaican rasta man." As to whether or not the feminine freak could have been a role model for trans kids, Niv doubts it. "The alien humanoids of the Star Wars saga consistently challenge gender binaries, but to say Jar Jar was actually trans would be giving George [Lucas] too much credit. Jar Jar was a cheap jab at black masculinity—call it what it is."

Sean says that the film's campiness was subversive, because it was in the context of a traditionally masculine, science fiction niche. It made him feel like it was OK to appreciate something that was typically thought of as bad, because it's so gay_._ Furthermore, the camp of The Phantom Menace intensified because George Lucas believed it would become a classic—he was blissfully unaware of the ridiculousness mainstream society lampooned the film for. In a behind the scenes making of video produced prior to the film's release, Lucas said , "Jar Jar is key to all this."

For Sean, the contrast between his perception of Jar Jar and the public's reminds him of Faye Dunaway's performance in Mommie Dearest. "I loved the Mommie Dearest of it all," Sean explains. "Faye Dunaway was playing Oscar bait. George Lucas had these new Star Wars films." At the same time, Sean saw depth to the Episode I. In his maligned screenplay, Lucas crafted a complex relationship between Qui-Gon and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. These two characters remind Sean of two archetypal homosexual relationships: priests beside altar boys, and older gay men who date younger guys.

"It's almost an allegory for the young Catholic church; the Jedi counsel taking a young boy and introducing the world to him," Sean says. "There are elements [that] straight people wouldn't understand or discuss. It's creepy: These two older guys show up and give this guy blood tests—that's the movie i want to see!" Anakin is a special kid in part because Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan detect that he has exceptional potential to master the Force. This potential is determined by the number of Midi-chlorians (microscopic lifeforms) in their blood; Anakin's Midi-chlorian count exceeds even that of Master Yoda.

Niv also noticed that pederastic interplay. "Obi-Wan's hair was pretty queer but my suspicions were more focused on the proximity of the two Jedis."

When Jacob, a gay male in his 20s, was preteen, he viewed queer themes in the fandom surrounding the Star Wars prequels. The same way queers obsessed over gay icons, like Madonna or Britney Spears, Star Wars fans dressed up and waited for days to see the movies.

The overarching theme of The Phantom Menace that makes it so appealing to queers is this inclusion of marginalized individuals, like Jar Jar Binks.

Trans fan Aaron also connects with the queer community of Star Wars fandom. "I saw Episode I the day it came out, midnight screening," she says. "I skipped school and waited in line all day. I was too scared and embarrassed to dress up like all the other nerds in line with me though—I've never liked calling too much attention to myself. It was an amazing shared experience, I love that about fandom, it brings people together. It's the sort of thing some people get from religion, but I get it from really good, epic sci-fi."