Damn you George Lucas

The Stars Wars cycle is complete. Save for the boundless re-iterations of DVD packages we can safely sit back and reflect on Lucas's career, and most importantly his legacy Star Wars (seeing as outside of that he's done approximately jack shit). Surely this master shill is sitting atop his pile o' merchandising cash chuckling smugly as he surveys the majesty of skywalker ranch. One can safely review and assess the bearded ones career because he is most assuredly retired. When the last film went in the can all Lucas had to do was watch the machine roll along like some shadow combine harvesting ripe geek cash. I imagine he'll spend the rest of his years much like he did the eighties, wallowing in glory and money, 'executive producing', occasionally writing some chunk of derivitive tripe, and mostly not caring because he is one rich son of a bitch. Meanwhile my peers gracefully worship at a huge brazen George atop the great hipster geek altar, empty Mt Dew bottles, candy wrappers and memorabilia strewn before it. We (everyone cognizant and impressionable when the original trilogy was released) all are indebted to the liberating and generation defining film, yet damn if somethin' don't feel quite right. While I too hold Star Wars in deeply intimate regard (I still have the sheets I got for christmas in 1977) what has become of the property belies Georges true talents.

I wasn't expecting a grand return to my childhood when I heard the prequels were in the making. I was looking for an escape, a romp populated by familiar character and places. What I got was tiresome cliche, thin and annoying characters, questionable casting, stilted and unnatural dialogue, and one giant fucking newt that should have been squashed shortly after the credits rolled in the first movie. It lead me to reassess George Lucas. Without getting into specifics (I'll leave that to film geek sites) George is a film student with a Hollywood budget. Tarrentino with a degree and no sense of style, or ability to direct for that matter. His is a study in his influences, predominantly Kurosawa. He's credited with revolutionary special effects yet 2001: A Space Odyssey, a film that came out 9 years before the orginal Star Wars, looks better. Ultimately a film school graduate and nothing more. Yet Star Wars was, to say the least, uh...huge.

The following movies established Lucas as a very lucky and rich man. Their life on the screen pales in comparison to Fast food cups, action figures, breakfast cereals, toothpaste, books, video games etc. He inspired an entire genre whose sole intention is to spawn labeled crap for us to consume, throw on shelves, and eventually resell on e-bay for several times its shelf price (only of you've kept it mint!). In order for a science fiction, or fantasy for that matter, film to be made it must prove it's marketability, it's ability to generate revenue well after it's out of the theatre. Science fiction as a genre has subsequently suffered. Instead of awareness expanding films utilizing fantastic settings to comment on our own perception we are left with 90 minute commercials. Thanks George and fuck you.

Of course he didn't foresee that tremendous impact. He was just trying to make an enjoyable and fun movie. That's why I don't blame him for Star Wars, or even Empire. Every movie following though is another nail holding the thesis on the door. The dollar signs occluded his already myopic vision as a filmmaker. He went for the LCD. Not that the previous films were unaccessable high brow cinema, they did contain a level of simple minded integrity. Unfortunately as soon as those leather clad little gerbils strolled out in Jedi we could see the real George working. What was going through his mind? "I want to see a stuffed ewok in everyone car rear window. I want to see ewoks on every back pack of every little girl going to school, I want to see ewoks every year in their very own christmas special." He found his niche, his true calling. I bet he's real pissed he didn't come up with Hello Kitty, Pokemon, or My Little Pony. He ceased to care about the monster he created, and never truly controlled. As long as it generated income sign on the bottom line. Here's were we get to the crux of the biscuit. You, Mr. Lucas, are limited in talent and ability. Instead of being the one hit wonder that so many other marginally talented directors are, you struck the mediocrity jackpot; one property that could insure you wealth and influence for the rest of your life. Like some mediocre golfer winning the Masters, you now have a green jacket and are mentioned with real filmmakers. You milked it dry without any regard to artistic direction or your own personal vision. A true craftsman always controls his medium. He has a vision for the entire project and if not walks away from it. If only you could have walked away from it.