The original Star Wars trilogy is one of the cornerstones of my cultural foundation. Despite this, I never read any of the Star Wars books, nor did I have a single Star Wars toy (hippie parents, what are you gonna do?). Though I never partook in the merchandise or extended universe, Star Wars was near and dear to my heart. I was so excited when the prequels were announced and saw Phantom Menace opening weekend. I hated it. I also hated the revisions that Lucas made to the original trilogy. Over the years it has felt like Lucas was tearing down my childhood. Though I have tried to be an adult about it, I’m still mad at George Lucas.
How Star Wars Conquered the Universe is a long, far reaching book. It covers George Lucas’ life from childhood to present, the people around Lucas, his non-Star Wars movies, his contemporaries and rivals, and the people and events who helped him turn Star Wars from an homage to old Flash Gordon movies into the creative and corporate machine that it is today. It also explores the communities of fans who cos play as imperial troops, jedi training schools, Jediism as a religion, the amateur droid builders, and the viral video and parody makers. And more, much, much more. There’s a lot here, and for the most part Taylor handles the huge amount of information in a lively and engaging manner.
Taylor spends a lot of time looking at Lucas’ evolution as a filmmaker, the ways he changed and more importantly, the ways he didn’t. Lucas’ two early films, THX 1138 and American Graffiti, are explored to show the different elements of his filmmaking vision. Lucas’ discomfort with dialogue, focus on special effects, need for control and perfectionism are given a lot of time as well. Taylor’s explorations of Lucas’ foibles are always done from a place of compassion. This isn’t a take down of Lucas.
But enough about the book, let’s talk about my relationship with George.
This book gave me a better understanding of George Lucas and how he thinks about Star Wars. To him, the process of making the first trilogy was painful and disappointing. He compares the movie making process to letting your child be mutilated. He wasn’t able to make the movies he wanted to make so he fixed them when he could. In an interview in 2004 he said,
…and I’m sorry you saw half a completed film and fell in love with it. But I want it to be the way I want it to be. I’m the one who has to take responsibility for it. I’m the one who has to have everybody throw rocks at me all the time, so at least if they’re going to throw rocks at me, they’re going to throw rocks at me for something I love rather than something I think is not very good, or at least something I think is not finished.
I can sympathize with his feelings, but I still feel like he is wrong. In contrast, Maurice Sendack is said to have responded to a reader’s long letter proffering a theory about the meaning of Where the Wild Things Are with, “it does now.” I believe that when a piece of art or entertainment is released into the world, it becomes partially owned by it’s consumers. To us, it was a complete movie and it sparked a relationship with the world Lucas built. I recognize Lucas’ right to make a version of the movie that more closely resembles his vision. I just wish he recognized the value of fan attachment to the original trilogy in it’s original release form. There are certainly enough Star Wars fans to support multiple versions.
What I find fascinating about his attitude that the Special Editions are the one true versions, is his delight in many of the fan made versions of the movies and the parodies. He is not cool with porn versions of Star Wars. He cooperated with Seth McFarlane’s Family Guy: Blue Harvest, and he played himself in Robot Chicken’s Star Wars. So he loves fan homages, even if they are critical, but is so controlling as to erase the movies in their original form.
It was smart, because the Robot Chicken parodies did a lot to bring me back the Star Wars after my disappointment with the prequels. Luke and Darth Vader going through some of the improbable plot points acknowledges that we can love Star Wars flaws and all. Robot Chicken was even able to make me laugh at the dreadfulness of the prequels.
As I’ve struggled with this review (it could be four times as long), I’ve started watching The Clone Wars, movie and series, on Netflix. I’m getting to like it, although the occasional appearance of the creature whose name begins with a J makes me feel full of rage and wrath. But on the whole, I like The Clone Wars series much more than I liked the prequels. Which brings me back to my core feeling about George Lucas and Star Wars: he created an immense and rich universe which inspires the imagination. For that I appreciate him, even though I will never entirely forgive him for being so negative about the original trilogy.
