Lucas Syndrome and the Clone Wars
No, I haven't seen Clone Wars. Nor am I planning on doing so soon. While I had mixed expectations of the film a few months ago my expectations have slowly sunk more and more into the negative. I will still see it... eventually - as in when it comes out on DVD. Until then, I can wait to see a film that is getting absolutely creamed by critics (and no, that's not just anti-Star Wars bias - this is the lowest rated film in the saga yet - even diving below the Ewok films), even by critics like Roger Ebert, who enjoyed all six of the main series films.
So, no, Lucas, no. You're not getting money out of me just because I've enjoyed your universe and love writing in it as well as reading about it, watching it on my TV screen, playing through it, or even listening to it from time to time. You don't get away with everything.
The interesting thing about Clone Wars, and this is interesting, is that while the movie is getting panned, the regular episodes of the series are actually getting some good press. So I'll still watch the show because by all accounts it's actually good. But the film, from what I understand, is an irrefutable, horrible failure (though I hear Karen Traviss's novelization is also good, though no surprise there). So why is this? Why is the television show so much better than its pilot?
Well, the truth is, I still don't know whether the film is as horrible as it sounds or the show as good as it sounds. But since I'm judging based on what I've heard I'll pop up with a few theories. First of all, there's the creative minds behind the film.
Dave Filoni, the creative mind behind the new show (instead of the original 2D one's Genndy Tartakovsky), may not just be cut out for the big screen. So far he's worked on, at his most notable, Avatar, a show which I understand to be excellent but have not actually seen. Nonetheless, television (particularly children's animated television) is a very different medium than a full-length motion picture is. Approaches are going to have to, necessarily differ.
Yet another issue I imagine has to do with the context. The episode shown to the TV critics showcased Yoda and the clone troopers. The film showcases Anakin and Ahsoka. Anakin is, from what I've heard, perhaps even more annoyingly cocky and two-dimensional in the pilot as he was in Attack of the Clones while Ahsoka is a "Disney princess" who calls Anakin "Sky-guy" (no joke, I wish it was). Too bad, she could have been an interesting character.
And then there's Asajj Ventress who I understand is just as uninteresting here as she was in the original series (without any of the tiny little flairs that at least made her somewhat intriguing in the comics or novels).
Which brings me to my last point. George. Lucas.
George, George, George... It's obvious you're not just a hack. You have talent. I enjoyed your newest film well enough. So what's wrong here? Why is it that, when it comes to Star Wars, you seem to have given up?
Alright, I'll admit, that's not fair. I liked ROTS and both TPM and AOTC were bearable (each in their own way and oddly I actually liked TPM more). But you're just not making it all that easy, are you? First, you introduced Jar-Jar. We hated that. Then, you gave fans a real reason to hate him and then made him an extra. We appreciated that. But in the process did you really have to introduce that god-awful love story? Okay, granted, a love story was inevitable given Luke and Leia had to come from somewhere but by the end of AOTC you should have caught a clue.
But you didn't. And then you took away the romance and gave us Clone Wars, which by all accounts has all the vices of TPM without any of its virtues. And why? Because of this.
Lucas has proven time and time again that he has what I call "Lucas syndrome." In reality, this is something of a misnomer as writers have long fallen prey to this mentality of blown up self-importance. Essentially, it occurs as the result of a long process in which the writer starts off creatively oppressed (as Lucas when making the first Star Wars film). Then, suddenly, the film is a big, enormous success. The writer is thrilled - people loved his work! But, unfortunately, it doesn't stop there.
The writer begins work on the sequel, the prequel, or the whatever-quel. Surprisingly, he finds that people are still telling him what to do. "Don't write that," they say. "Don't do that." That infuriates him. After all, didn't he write the incredibly successful book/film/game? What do these "executives," "editors," or "publishers" know about art? A wise writer will, however, swallow his resentment and listen to their suggestions. The new work will come out and, with the combination of faith from the managers in an already successful writer and the writer's willingness to let his genius be edited and cut it is also a success.
But sometimes, something happens. Something that convince the writer that only they and perhaps one or two other people really understand his work. Only they can write it. All others are unworthy of it and criticism regarding his work (doesn't matter if it is his fans, professional critics, or the executives) fall on deaf ears. He will listen to no one but himself.
For Lucas, this incident, this occurrence which sent him down this road, was The Holiday Special. Loathed by just about everybody and dreamed up by the studio rather than Lucas himself (who only half-heartedly agreed to it) the "film" was an absolute disaster and remains today one of the most infamous spawnlets of the Star Wars franchise. Lucas has himself said that he'd like to take a hammer to every copy.
More than anything I believe, this pushed Lucas into the so-called Lucas Syndrome. He had seen what happened when he let someone else make a Star Wars film and he wouldn't let it happen again. The only person he's since trusted to actually work on the films has been his old mentor, Irvin Kershner and screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, though I wouldn't be surprised if he ever considered letting his friend Spielberg have a try at it.
The point is, at this point, Lucas determined that Star Wars was something that was unique to him. No one else could do it. And by the time the prequels began to show up and fans began to criticize him in addition to professional critics, Lucas had just had enough. He wasn't going to listen to anyone - not the critics, not the executives, and definitely not the fans with their preexisting expectations.
Lucas is not a bad guy. Contrary to what Lucas bashers might say, he's not trying to injure you personally or "rape your childhood." He believes he's doing what's best for the franchise. But the problem is that he's not willing to listen to what anyone else has to say. He's not willing to keep an open mind. Contrast that with Roddenberry, who once said that he wouldn't mind if at some point fans of Star Trek said "you know, that Roddenberry, he wasn't all that great" so long as Star Trek lived on. Or contrast Lucas' approach to Ronald D. Moore, who has long said his favorite part of television writing is sitting around a table and sharing ideas with other writers.
Lucas, frankly, has lost perspective. He's lost sight of what is the most essential ingredient to excellent writing - listening to your critics. Letting others tell you if something is a bad idea, if it's stupid, or if they don't think it'll go over well. Of course you shouldn't let others boss you around. Of course at some point you have to draw a line and say, "well, that's just not the point" or "I can't really do that" or "I appreciate your concern but trust me." But to ignore criticism completely, to pick a producer who has wholeheartedly said that his job is to "supply George with what he needs" is only going to make things worse.
I hope that Clone Wars does badly. I really do for my sake, the fans' sake, the franchise's sake, and Lucas' sake. Because I think it's the only way that Lucas is going to start listening again.
So, no, Lucas, no. You're not getting money out of me just because I've enjoyed your universe and love writing in it as well as reading about it, watching it on my TV screen, playing through it, or even listening to it from time to time. You don't get away with everything.
The interesting thing about Clone Wars, and this is interesting, is that while the movie is getting panned, the regular episodes of the series are actually getting some good press. So I'll still watch the show because by all accounts it's actually good. But the film, from what I understand, is an irrefutable, horrible failure (though I hear Karen Traviss's novelization is also good, though no surprise there). So why is this? Why is the television show so much better than its pilot?
Well, the truth is, I still don't know whether the film is as horrible as it sounds or the show as good as it sounds. But since I'm judging based on what I've heard I'll pop up with a few theories. First of all, there's the creative minds behind the film.
Dave Filoni, the creative mind behind the new show (instead of the original 2D one's Genndy Tartakovsky), may not just be cut out for the big screen. So far he's worked on, at his most notable, Avatar, a show which I understand to be excellent but have not actually seen. Nonetheless, television (particularly children's animated television) is a very different medium than a full-length motion picture is. Approaches are going to have to, necessarily differ.
Yet another issue I imagine has to do with the context. The episode shown to the TV critics showcased Yoda and the clone troopers. The film showcases Anakin and Ahsoka. Anakin is, from what I've heard, perhaps even more annoyingly cocky and two-dimensional in the pilot as he was in Attack of the Clones while Ahsoka is a "Disney princess" who calls Anakin "Sky-guy" (no joke, I wish it was). Too bad, she could have been an interesting character.
And then there's Asajj Ventress who I understand is just as uninteresting here as she was in the original series (without any of the tiny little flairs that at least made her somewhat intriguing in the comics or novels).
Which brings me to my last point. George. Lucas.
George, George, George... It's obvious you're not just a hack. You have talent. I enjoyed your newest film well enough. So what's wrong here? Why is it that, when it comes to Star Wars, you seem to have given up?
Alright, I'll admit, that's not fair. I liked ROTS and both TPM and AOTC were bearable (each in their own way and oddly I actually liked TPM more). But you're just not making it all that easy, are you? First, you introduced Jar-Jar. We hated that. Then, you gave fans a real reason to hate him and then made him an extra. We appreciated that. But in the process did you really have to introduce that god-awful love story? Okay, granted, a love story was inevitable given Luke and Leia had to come from somewhere but by the end of AOTC you should have caught a clue.
But you didn't. And then you took away the romance and gave us Clone Wars, which by all accounts has all the vices of TPM without any of its virtues. And why? Because of this.
Lucas has proven time and time again that he has what I call "Lucas syndrome." In reality, this is something of a misnomer as writers have long fallen prey to this mentality of blown up self-importance. Essentially, it occurs as the result of a long process in which the writer starts off creatively oppressed (as Lucas when making the first Star Wars film). Then, suddenly, the film is a big, enormous success. The writer is thrilled - people loved his work! But, unfortunately, it doesn't stop there.
The writer begins work on the sequel, the prequel, or the whatever-quel. Surprisingly, he finds that people are still telling him what to do. "Don't write that," they say. "Don't do that." That infuriates him. After all, didn't he write the incredibly successful book/film/game? What do these "executives," "editors," or "publishers" know about art? A wise writer will, however, swallow his resentment and listen to their suggestions. The new work will come out and, with the combination of faith from the managers in an already successful writer and the writer's willingness to let his genius be edited and cut it is also a success.
But sometimes, something happens. Something that convince the writer that only they and perhaps one or two other people really understand his work. Only they can write it. All others are unworthy of it and criticism regarding his work (doesn't matter if it is his fans, professional critics, or the executives) fall on deaf ears. He will listen to no one but himself.
For Lucas, this incident, this occurrence which sent him down this road, was The Holiday Special. Loathed by just about everybody and dreamed up by the studio rather than Lucas himself (who only half-heartedly agreed to it) the "film" was an absolute disaster and remains today one of the most infamous spawnlets of the Star Wars franchise. Lucas has himself said that he'd like to take a hammer to every copy.
More than anything I believe, this pushed Lucas into the so-called Lucas Syndrome. He had seen what happened when he let someone else make a Star Wars film and he wouldn't let it happen again. The only person he's since trusted to actually work on the films has been his old mentor, Irvin Kershner and screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, though I wouldn't be surprised if he ever considered letting his friend Spielberg have a try at it.
The point is, at this point, Lucas determined that Star Wars was something that was unique to him. No one else could do it. And by the time the prequels began to show up and fans began to criticize him in addition to professional critics, Lucas had just had enough. He wasn't going to listen to anyone - not the critics, not the executives, and definitely not the fans with their preexisting expectations.
Lucas is not a bad guy. Contrary to what Lucas bashers might say, he's not trying to injure you personally or "rape your childhood." He believes he's doing what's best for the franchise. But the problem is that he's not willing to listen to what anyone else has to say. He's not willing to keep an open mind. Contrast that with Roddenberry, who once said that he wouldn't mind if at some point fans of Star Trek said "you know, that Roddenberry, he wasn't all that great" so long as Star Trek lived on. Or contrast Lucas' approach to Ronald D. Moore, who has long said his favorite part of television writing is sitting around a table and sharing ideas with other writers.
Lucas, frankly, has lost perspective. He's lost sight of what is the most essential ingredient to excellent writing - listening to your critics. Letting others tell you if something is a bad idea, if it's stupid, or if they don't think it'll go over well. Of course you shouldn't let others boss you around. Of course at some point you have to draw a line and say, "well, that's just not the point" or "I can't really do that" or "I appreciate your concern but trust me." But to ignore criticism completely, to pick a producer who has wholeheartedly said that his job is to "supply George with what he needs" is only going to make things worse.
I hope that Clone Wars does badly. I really do for my sake, the fans' sake, the franchise's sake, and Lucas' sake. Because I think it's the only way that Lucas is going to start listening again.