Now that a new George Lucas production is heading to theaters, the World War II-themed aerial adventure Red Tails, we’re getting besieged with a predictable flurry of articles contemplating the future of the man best known for creating the Star Wars franchise. Speculation about Lucas’ plans has been a popular sport since the mid-’70s, when fans first began asking which Star Wars sequels he would make. Because, let’s face it, that’s really what any discussion about Lucas comes down to: Although he has done many wonderful things unrelated to a galaxy far, far away, his output in the last 20 years has been so disappointing that few people expect him to ever recapture artistic credibility. Therefore, lingering interest is almost entirely centered around the adventures of the extended Skywalker clan.
This weekend’s New York Times Magazine features attention-grabbing Lucas remarks like this one: “I’m retiring. I’m moving away from the business, from the company, from all kinds of stuff.” To clarify, the Times interviewer explains that Lucas intends for Red Tails to be his last blockbuster-sized production. Hereafter, according to the article, Lucas will concentrate on low-budget experimental films more in keeping with his first feature film, 1971’s esoteric THX-1138, than with the Star Wars pictures. The problem, as was immediately pointed out by myriad online wags, is that Lucas has sung this song before.
Over at Time magazine’s website, writer Gilbert Cruz penned a bitchy (but funny) piece titled, “George Lucas Wants to Retire and Make Art Films. Sure He Does.” In the essay, Cruz cited numerous experts who, over the last couple of decades, have challenged Lucas’ past promises to leave the blockbuster realm; as it happens, Lucas has been threatening to withdraw from big-budget movies almost since the first Star Wars flick was released in 1977. After that picture opened, the filmmaker pledged never to direct again, a promise he kept for something like 20 years, then broke by directing three more Star Wars movies. As the old Godfather Part III line goes, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”
It’s difficult to resist indulging the catty pastime of calling Lucas on hypocrisy. A man of strong convictions, he tends to make sweeping public statements that later lose their credibility, just as he sometimes reveals more than was perhaps intended with his quotes. For example, in the New York Times piece, Lucas claims he won’t make any more Star Wars movies because of the critical bashing he took during the release of the franchises’ three prequels in the late 1990s and early 2000s: “Why would I make any more [Star Wars movies] when everybody yells at you all the time and says what a terrible person you are?”
Lucas was presumably referring to expressions of fan dissatisfaction like the documentary The People vs. George Lucas (for which, full disclosure, I was interviewed), plus the general consensus that most fans of the original 1970s-1980s Star Wars trilogy found the prequels underwhelming. Embedded in Lucas’ sentiment, however, is a possible insight into the complexities of his character: On the one hand, he’s the maverick who capriciously alters his films for re-release and proclaims the desire to make idiosyncratic art with limited mass appeal, and on the other hand, he’s a populist whose feelings are hurt when people don’t like his movies. This is why calling Lucas on disconnects between his public statements is a trap. The point is not that he contradicts himself; the point is that he’s got layers. In a strange way, this distinction reveals something true about Lucas’ admirers, specifically Star Wars fans, who appear to dislike the filmmaker’s textured personality: They want him to be the guy who made three movies between 1977 and 1983, and they want him to stay frozen that way forever. (Insert your own “frozen in carbonite” joke here if you’re a geek.)
So what we have is a situation in which a filmmaker who probably talks too much about his future plans never actually talks about the future his fans want. To amplify this interpretation, consider the thorny relationship between Lucas and the devotees of his other beloved pop-culture franchise, the Indiana Jones film series. Things got off to a great start in 1981, when the dream team of producer Lucas, screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, and director Steven Spielberg unveiled Raiders of the Lost Ark, an escapist-cinema masterpiece. Two ’80s sequels underwhelmed, but not to such an egregious degree that goodwill toward the franchise was eradicated.
During the 1990s and 2000s, fans grasped copious rumors about the involvement of Hollywood superstars in a comeback movie, from director M. Night Shyamalan to screenwriter Frank Darabont, with the throughline being that one after another, Lucas personally vetoed each promising attempt at a resuscitation. And then, in 2008, when the movie Lucas actually approved was released, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was so insipid and overproduced that it made the Star Wars prequels seem like high art by comparison.
So that, too, is part of the mix: Lucas’ fans remain fascinated with his potential despite steady disappointment with his actual output. Just as admirers savor the notion of some future Star Wars movie that lives up to the power of their nostalgia for the originals, they cleave (with varying degrees of self-delusion) onto the idea that there might be at least one more watchable Indiana Jones picture in the future. (Yes, a fifth Indy adventure is in active development as we speak.) All this despite ample evidence that the glory days of both franchises are long gone.
That being the case, shouldn’t the idea that Lucas is moving onto a new chapter (or at least once again reviving the possibility that he might do so) be cause for celebration? If it’s unlikely that there will ever be another great Indiana Jones or Star Wars movie, shouldn’t it be consolation that there might be another great movie from George Lucas, no matter what form it takes? But then again, is it possible for any filmmaker to meet the kind of expectations that fate has placed upon Lucas? Having created some of the most beloved movies in history, can he ever forge something that critics, fans, or the public rate as highly as his milestones of yesteryear?
That’s a tough question to answer, and this conundrum might explain why Lucas has been reluctant to follow through with his promises of making art films. It’s one thing to send a Star Wars movie into the court of public opinion, because no matter how critics or fans respond, the thing will generate massive income because of the power of the Star Wars brand. But if Lucas makes a small movie that disappoints critics and fails to score at the box office, then he runs the risk of being doubly embarrassed. Despite his bold talk about being an artistic island, untouchable by the reactions of others, it seems Lucas really does care what people think of his work. Therefore, since he is probably incapable of generating the products that would engender true goodwill (worthwhile franchise sequels), withdrawing from the scene might be the wiser course of action.
. . . after milking the Star Wars teat a few more times, that is. Amid his talk of retirement, Lucas is busy overseeing the 3D-enhanced re-releases of all six Star Wars movies, which will undoubtedly beget yet another home-video reissue. Because the one thing Lucas has yet to figure out is that the easiest way to walk away from Star Wars is to actually walk away from Star Wars.