The Secret History of Star Wars
The Secret History of Star Wars is a fan-written e-book that documents, in exhaustive (and exhausting) detail, the process by which the Star Wars film saga evolved over the last 30 years. At 533 pages, it's a bit of a doorstop, but there's a lot of material which is fascinating to someone like me (the frustrated artist/historian type) who loves listening to DVD commentaries, looking behind the stage sets and seeing how art is *really* made.
It turns out the answer is: with a great deal of hard work, a fair bit of brute-force copying, much misguided fannish enthusiasm, heaping helpings of pure luck, and above all it really helps if you have a circle of friends who can complement your weaknesses and add their own colour to the mix. Also, that there really aren't that many in the way of rules for making art except perhaps 'don't let your vision get in the way of your friendships.'
The original Star Wars, it seems, is proof that the best art really can emerge from a committee, and the prequels are proof that sometimes 'seeing a story in your head' can actually be a barrier to telling it.
Edit: Huh, I really didn't realise it's actually Star Wars Day today. Neat.
I first watched Star Wars in my twenties, and it had much the same impact on me then that others of my generation report it having on them as children of six or so. The story was so simple, fairy-tale like, and yet it managed to sum up visually almost all of the themes of a late 20th century suburban adolescence: a longing to escape a small-town existence, desire for a bigger life somewhere out there, an urban dreamscape fashioned from half-remembered chunks of media: cowboys and samurais, black knights and princesses, World War 2 movies, cars and air travel, personal computers, the twin shadows of the Apollo moon landing and nuclear weapons, technology as both a friend and enemy, machines and human spirituality combined. Somehow all rolled up into one. The ultimate Lego playset. An indefinable magic which still hasn't really been equalled.
Fans of the original series who hate the prequels and only half-enjoy Return of the Jedi already have a sense that George Lucas didn't really understand what was going on in that first movie that made it so insanely great, much less Empire Strikes Back. And this book sort of describes why: yes, Lucas didn't trust Irving Kershner's vision for Empire and took back more control over Jedi and total control of the prequels. Yes, the dialogue in the prequels is that bad because Lucas can't write dialogue (and is aware of that, but the talky bits were never really part of his vision anyway; it's the action and monsters that he wanted). This book vindicates all those judgements, yet I actually came out feeling a little more sympathetic towards him, even though I consider the huge sprawling expanded Star Wars empire mostly a failure artistically. There are so many amateur fans whose writing and film projects turn out to be better than the creator of the universe they half-jokingly write in. Why is that?
Because it's actually really, really hard to write well, that's why. And if you have a quirky vision that's only half come together in your head and you can't find anyone else to complete it for you... what do you do? Apart from learning how to trust others' judgement, that is, and gracefully step aside and let them give you advice. Except for the times when you need to *not* trust other people's judgement, and go by your own inner instinct. And after all that, the initial critics and the marketplace won't judge your work the way history will, and you have to decide whether you want to be an artist or to make money.
And when all's said and done, even if you make a hundred million dollars and everyone loves your work and you get to realise your life's ambition - even then, you can still lose your marriage if you take it all too seriously. Or not seriously enough.
Life is hard work, it seems, and art is harder. The line between the two is vague and blurred. And we don't often recognise the important bits as they're happening.
For me, artistically speaking, some of the main lessons to draw from the behind-the-scenes Star Wars saga would be:
Don't repeat yourself.
Don't recycle old scripts and story notes and hope people won't notice.
Stay open to spontaneous on-the-set tweaks, but don't go changing major story points in post-production.
If you do rewrite large chunks of your script, be aware that the seams will show.
If you change your whole theme between drafts, check to see if you've just removed a load-bearing plot point.
If you write an entire sequence 'just to fill in space', it will be obvious that it doesn't flow.
Leave yourself room to change your mind.
Don't get wedded to ideas you love but that don't fit.
Do keep track of all those great ideas that don't fit, just make sure you fit them where they belong.
Don't repeat yourself.
The bits you cut out of the first draft are not a substitute for a new story.
An encyclopediac knowledge of cinema and genre and a good photocopier is not a substitute for a dramatic arc.
The best dramatic arc in the world is not a substitute for dialogue.
Don't underestimate the intelligence of your audience: you will make more money by doing so, but later they'll hate you forever.
You can create new characters easily by splitting an old one into different aspects, or combining two into one, but in each case you can get yourself into big trouble later.
You can use someone else's art as a skeleton for your own - everyone does - but make sure you replace it all before you're done.
If you find yourself doing that to your own work, you're in trouble.
Pick names you like first and then find characters for them later.
The weirdest names are the real ones.
Don't repeat yourself.
Don't skimp on the props and visual designs.
Don't think you can go cheap with just using mattes and talking heads instead of models and expect it to look as good.
CGI is never as real-looking as practical effects, even if you get cooler shots.
If your CGI action showpiece looks like a videogame, that's NOT actually a good thing.
Sometimes less action really is a whole lot more.
Use found objects and sounds wherever possible, then mangle them.
Dirty up your props and sets - a used universe is much more fun than a shiny one.
There's just something really cool about old-school, clunky 1970s computer control panels with dumb flashing lights. They beat flashy LCD touchscreens every time.
Go vertical. Have people clambering up and down through your set to make it look more solid.
Any given North African dwelling practically screams 'outer space homestead'.
Californian redwood forests are NOT outer space, unless you overcrank the film.
Don't repeat yourself.
Don't show your entire universe at once, leave room for it to breathe.
A good story has legs. A great story builds a franchise. An overextended franchise can make cinema gold stink for a generation.
A good manager brings a job in on time and under budget and keeps the crew happy. A great artist is obsessive-compulsively driven. A living legend is both. That's why there are very few living legends still alive.
Whatever your dream is, it's not always worth it. Step back and breathe.
George Lucas made The Phantom Menace. Irving Kershner made Robocop 2. Sometimes lightning just can't be made to strike twice, and it's not your fault.
Sometimes making art is pure pain. Sometimes it's pure joy. Neither is a good indication of success, but if it's fun and fast to write the odds are slightly higher it will be fun to watch.
Sometimes you need to listen to your fans, because they understand what you created better than you do.
Except when they ask for more explosions, because fans are dumb.
If in doubt, just add some midgets in suits. Seriously, that really does work.
Don't repeat yourself.
And finally:
The story you have in your head is ALWAYS cooler than the one you get to tell with the media you're using and the time and money constraints you have. That's a given. But sometimes, the story you actually tell ends up being a much better one than the one you set out to tell. Be open to having your work hijacked by chance and taken in new directions.
But those are only rules of thumb, and they all seem to be breakable.
And because everything's better with Youtube, a selection of the finest Star Wars related material on the interweb:
Darth Vader Feels Blue
Darth Vader Being A...
R2 Messes With Jabba
Behind Blue Eyes
Ewoks Gospel
Oh, what the heck. Let's go for broke: