Witness To Insanity

I'd like to elaborate on a thread I posted on twitter.  Confined to a series of tweets, I mostly rambled about Star Wars boss Kathleen Kennedy.  But my main point is about film authorship, and how the entire concept is flawed.

Anyway: yes, Star Wars should hire a woman director.  I've read numerous hand-wringing DGA studies about how female directors (especially in movies) are afforded far fewer opportunities than males, and the responsibility to fix that is on the studios -- even the smaller studios, like Lucasfilm.  But Star Wars is also an outlier, because even if the movies have yet to hire a woman director, the franchise itself is being directed by a woman.  And she’s made it clear that the franchise is larger, more ambitious, and more important than any single component.

A little history: around 70 years ago, a bunch of French academics started lionizing the director as the "auteur" of a given movie.  (To give them credit, many of these academics were also filmmakers.)  Their goal was to celebrate the achievements of certain American directors, such as Howard Hawks, who weren't yet recognized as artists.  And, y'know, good for them -- Hawks deserved recognition.  But their conclusions were hardly conclusive.  Ever since then, academics have been debating the merits of film “authorship” and whether auteur status is possible in a medium where hundreds of individuals work on a single project.

Humans love asking, "Who is responsible for this?"  And a lot of art is a solitary accomplishment.  Books have authors, paintings have artists.  Usually just one.  But theatre?  Television?  Movies?  When a work of art involves writers, actors, producers, camera crews, lighting directors, set designers, etc. etc. etc., all operating in unison... can we really say that the director is the one true visionary?

A quick example: Stanley Kubrick, who’s widely hailed in film circles as a genius and a trailblazer and a master of cinema.  Kubrick was a quiet tyrant on his sets, demanding take after take until he had captured his exact vision on film.  And what was his vision?  Well, he pretty much stuck to adapting novels.  Dr. Strangelove, 2001, Clockwork Orange, Paths of Glory, Spartacus, Lolita, Barry Lyndon, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, Eyes Wide Shut -- they were all based on books.  Can Stanley Kubrick be considered an auteur if he never made anything original?  

That's not fair, nor is it particularly nice to Kubrick (who was a genius, of course), but my point is that giving overwrought credit to directors is often done at the expense of their collaborators.

Way before Star Wars, before Kubrick, before French academics, the very first auteurs weren't even people, they were studios.  The studio logo was the first credit you saw on the big screen, and it announced what kind of movie you were about to see.  A Warner Bros. picture was not an MGM picture was not a Paramount picture was not a Columbia picture was not a Fox picture.  Regardless of the talent in front of or behind the camera, the studio was the name.  This policy of collecting and co-opting credit under one roof was weirdly honest, in its own corporate way.  The studio was the father, the mother, the holy ghost, the money, the production, the distribution and the exhibition.  It all started with and came back to the company.  More than anything, this is the model that Lucasfilm seems to be emulating, but with a cool twist: the franchise itself is now in charge.  Star Wars is the auteur of Star Wars.  Maintaining the integrity of the franchise is more important than any individual.

This is a big change from the George Lucas days, because Lucas was one of the few undeniable auteurs of American movies.  He not only wrote and directed and produced his movies -- after the first Star Wars he even began to finance them, all the while creating entirely new companies to advance his visions for special effects, sound mixing, and computer animation.  And make no mistake, his vision was dominant.  Nobody considers The Empire Strikes Back to be an Irvin Kershner joint.  ESB is, first and foremost, a Star Wars movie.

And as the recent hirings and firings at Lucasfilm have illustrated, a Star Wars movie is bigger than any individual director.  The director is an important member of the crew, and clearly has creative input, but s/he is still just that -- a creative collaborator.  Josh Trank, Miller & Lord, Ron Howard, Colin Trevorrow, J.J. Abrams -- all talented guys. But look at the ease with which they were swapped in and out.

The auteur of Star Wars is Star Wars.  Lucasfilm employs writers, directors, executives, artists, a story group, licensees, technicians, futurists, and everything in between, and they all serve the same master: the franchise.  Lucasfilm makes movies, novels, comics, games, cartoons, and every consumer product imaginable.  No single director is important enough to derail that train, and if they think they are, they're given the boot.

The auteur of Star Wars is Star Wars, and Kathleen Kennedy understands that.  In addition to everything else involved in running a multi-billion dollar empire, she’s the ultimate gatekeeper, the one who makes the sure that the franchise takes precedence over all else.  No matter who's directing Episode IX, she's directing Star Wars.

A few things happened recently that may seem disconnected, but they illustrate an important philosophical difference between Disney and Lucasfilm.

First item: the “Making of Rogue One” book is canceled, plus we receive confirmation that the “Making of The Force Awakens” is also kaput.

Second: Jonathan Rinzler’s blog detailing his time at Lucasfilm – warts and all – is taken down.  Rinzler offers no explanation, but says it won’t be coming back.

Third: Whoopi Goldberg uses her newly-minted status as a Disney Legend to encourage Disney to re-release Song of the South.

Let's start with that last item: it’s not gonna happen, Whoopi.  Other folks have asked for Song of the South to be released, with the same “historical authenticity” argument, and it’s never worked.  Disney is all about suspension of disbelief, not re-examining the unpleasant past.  Hell, their preferred way of dealing with these issues is to blissfully pretend that they never existed.  Disney is not an academic company; they create immersive escapist fantasies where endings are happy and magic is real.  It’s what they’re best at, it’s what the audience wants, and it’s possibly what the world needs right now.

Lucasfilm also creates immersive experiences, but as a company, they’ve always been a little anti-magic.  For several decades, Lucasfilm was on the forefront of showing how movies were made, with elaborate behind-the-scenes books and documentaries about special effects, the art of storytelling, and virtually every other facet of filmmaking.  Jonathan Rinzler was a big part of this – during his fourteen years at LFL, his “Making of” books for Star Wars and Indiana Jones set a new standard for this kind of work.  They’re massive, impeccably researched, and often brutally honest.  If you haven’t read them, they’re great.

Rinzler’s now-defunct blog continued in this tradition, giving a truly insider’s view of working with George Lucas, working at Skywalker Ranch, and the creation of the most expensive independent movies ever made, a.k.a. the Star Wars Prequels.  Rinzler isn’t saying why he removed his blog, but if his terse statements about it are any indication, he’s not happy about it.  (I hope I’m wrong and he’s planning to eventually publish all this in a memoir.)

So did he get hit with a C&D on Disney/Lucasfilm letterhead?  I tend to doubt it, but who knows?  The blog was, after all, titled “The Rise and Fall of Star Wars.”  That said, it was hardly a salacious tell-all.  Rinzler was generally very positive about Lucas and Lucasfilm, and he often stressed that this was just his POV, and not the objective all-seeing and all-knowing Truth with a capital T.  Granted, it seemed like he was eventually going to explain why he left Lucasfilm, but that seemed like it was a while’s away.

Here’s what we do know: Lucasfilm has apparently gotten out of the “Making of” business, just as fans are clamoring for more and more behind-the-scenes scoops.  Why did they scrap Michael Arndt’s take on Episode VII?  How extensive were the Rogue One reshoots?  What led to Phil Lord and Chris Miller getting canned from the Han Solo movie?  We may never find out, at least from an official source.

Two little thoughts about Starkiller Base: Yes, it's derivative of the Death Star, but the movie acknowledges this -- and in doing so, reminds casual viewers about the Death Star. It's a clever way of setting the stage for next year's Rogue One.

I’m not much of a collector, but I own a lot of Yoda figures -- all of them, I believe, at least from the Hasbro/Kenner lines.  Some of them are great!  And some, less so.  Much, much less so.  I’ll alternate between the best and the worst.

Best #5: Mission Series (2014) 

This is a recent release with a throwback feel, but ya know what, it totally works.  Fun little legs, belt way up around his chest, everything seems like it’s to scale.  Kinda the opposite of...

Worst #5: Trilogy Collection (2004)

Hi, I’m Yoda, and I’m wearing my daddy’s clothes!  Seriously, why give him cloth robes if he’s going to be swimming in them?  Also, his face looks more like Salman Rushdie than Yoda.  Just look at him.  What a pretentious little shmuck.

Best #4: AOTC Deluxe (2002)

This guys doesn’t get a lot of love, probably because his legs don’t move... but I think his robe is actually really nifty.  Definitely one of the best body sculpts out there, especially for an action pose.  And his face is pretty badass.  Dude is determined.

Worst #4: Spinning Attack (2005)

Sweet Jesus, this is actually the figure’s default pose.  Between the hand at the crotch and the billowing cape, it’s like they took Yoda’s head and put him on Michael Jackson’s body.  Michael Jackson wearing a skirt.

Best #3: Yoda & Kybuck (2007)

His outfit is a bit bananas, but this is one of those rare cloth robes that actually fits him pretty well.  Plus, he gets to ride that kybuck, which is awesome, especially since his usual accessories are a cane and a pot.

Worst #3: The Clone Wars (2009)

And here’s the flipside of the cartoon-inspired Yodas... ugh.  Why is his robe bleached white?  Why does he look like someone just farted?  Is he smirking or scowling?  So many questions.  So many unnecessary questions.

Best #2: Floatin’ Yoda (2003)

There are a few Yoda “sitting” figures out there, but I always liked this guy the best.  His robe falls really nicely around his hoverchair, his face has the right sorta pensive expression, and he comes with a little Jedi initiate (not pictured) as a bonus accessory.  Only downside: they gave him an extra toe, though I acknowledge that there was still some debate on this issue back when he came out.

Worst #2: ROTS (2005) 

Another lemon from the Revenge of the Sith era.  He’s dark, he’s depressed, and he’s wearing a wrinkled bedsheet.  Proof that you don’t need a cloth robe to screw up his outfit.

Best #1: ESB Vintage (1981)

Sure, his robe looks a bit like a fur coat, but dammit at least it fits!  And classic Yoda was so freakin’ cute, you can’t help but love his cross-eyes little face.

Worst #1: Black Series (2014)

2011 was hit with an unusual wave of nostalgia.  Instead of trying to replicate a certain type of film, the year's crop of movies often evoked a certain type of filmmaking.  The Artist, with its behind-the-scenes drama detailing the dawn of sound, eulogized a purely visual form of cinema.  Martin Scorsese’s Hugo also mined the silent era, showcasing the hands-on ingenuity of early special effects as well as the fragile, tangible allure of celluloid itself.  Film stock again shows up in Super 8, where it was lovingly anachronized alongside bloody squibs and practical monster makeup.  Even Kermit the Frog had an existential crisis, wondering in The Muppets whether his felt-and-fingers sensibility had any place in the modern world.

It was, all in all, a celebration of the low-tech -- and perhaps, a condemnation of the current practices.  One of the unforeseen casualties of digital cinema has been special effects.  Put simply, there's nothing special about them anymore.  Nobody watches a movie nowadays and asks How did they do that?  They all know the answer: pixels, mousepads, and desktops.  In the span of just two decades (starting, by most estimations, with Jurassic Park), we've moved from Movie Magic to Computer Wizardry to plain old Digital Effects.  This is not to disparage the programmers and animators who create such photorealistic impossibilities -- indeed, more man hours are put into today's visual effects than ever before.  But in an era when everything is possible, nothing is remarkable.

The movie gives its best line to a lizard.  This is important.

The scene, which I might be paraphrasing a tad, occurs right after Cinderella arrives at the ball. Staring up at the castle, and the enormous staircase she’ll climb to get there, she’s hit by a brief bout of nerves. “I’m only a girl,” she says, “I’m not really a princess.”  Her reptilian footman is sympathetic.  “I’m only a lizard,” he responds, “I’m not a really footman.  Enjoy it while it lasts.”

And she does. Cinderella has a grand ol’ time at the ball because she goes in knowing it’ll end.  Once midnight hits, she’s outta there.  So once she’s home, even though she’s back to basically being Cate Blanchett’s slave, she’s happy – happy because she had one really fun night out, and she has the memory to hang onto.

Cinderella has been criticized for turning its heroine into a traditional Disney doormat, kind and obedient and waiting to be rescued.  But what sets her apart, what’s new about this Cinderella, is her willingness to live in the moment, her understanding that nothing lasts but the memories.  It’s not just a function of being docile – the movie shows how she learned this lesson the hard way, having lost both of her parents.  So instead of pining for a happily ever after, Cinderella survives all the crap in her life by keeping her eye on the temporary, hoping for just a few moments of happiness to create new memories.  (And maybe a new collectible every now and then to help her remember.)