In the early seventies, when George Lucas first tried selling his thirteen-page script of “The Star Wars” to different studios, all Lucas received were scoffs, weird faces, and, “George, what exactly is a Wookie?”
The whole idea, as Lucas presented it, seemed silly: why was a grown man in his 30s talking about alien creatures and some hippie thing called “the Force”? Big names such as Universal and United Artists rejected Lucas, but by the summer of 1975, under Fox’s wing, Star Wars started becoming a tangible idea—“Star Wars: A New Hope,” which would be released in 1977, began filming.
What no one expected is that the film, which Fox executives themselves were—at one point—convinced was going to flop, would change pop culture forever.
A New Hope took the cinematographic world by surprise: it earned $323 million, the largest grossing film at the time. It launched Fox to the “big names” list, and it established the blockbuster business model that studios like Marvel have spent years in perfecting.
It’s been 42 years now since A New Hope came out, and one can only guess that those who first rejected George Lucas must hate themselves. With the Star Wars franchise now comprising 12 live-action movies, 28 comic volumes, two animated series, multiple video games, and 65 billion dollars on worldwide merchandise, all who rejected Lucas said “no” to what is now the most successful film franchise in history.
But when one thinks about Star Wars, one doesn’t necessarily think about Lucas’s business impact. When one thinks of Star Wars, one thinks of a wise Yoda advising a young Luke in the ways of the force, of the iconic hair buns of a young Princess Leia, of a sinister Darth Vader telling a confused young boy, “I am your father.”
When one thinks of Star Wars, one thinks of the faces, the stories, the weird, intriguing creatures, the idea that good is greater than evil, and the power of human values.
Star Wars encompasses the mythology of a modern, non-sectarian universe. Through robots, lightsabers, and Death Stars, Star Wars tells the story of good versus evil in a way never done before. That’s perhaps why it has resonated with the world like no other story. That’s perhaps why people—regardless of race, sex, ethnicity, or language—have found a peculiar comfort in the American-born myth of a far away galaxy with Wookies and Ewoks. That’s perhaps why it took a single clip of an alleged “Baby Yoda” to set the internet on fire.
Today, there are 7.5 billion people on Earth, far more than in any previous era, and the majority are probably aware of Star Wars in some way (be it through watching the movies or the decades-long commercial hype). That makes Star Wars one of the most famous stories, and George Lucas, one of the most famous storytellers, ever.
We live in a world culturally impacted by Star Wars, and in this same interconnected world, where stories from the media seem to be replacing the lessons that one day were obtained from the worlds of literature and religion, Star Wars—with its anthologies of good and evil, faith, and the power of values—represents a strong force that reminds us of the human story.
The eleventh and final installment of the saga, “The Rise of Skywalker,” was just released this past Friday, and even now, almost half a century after Lucas first imagined a galactic world ruled by the Jedi and the Sith, comprehending what the first Star Wars film meant to the world is unattainable.
Today, Star Wars, in all its glory, is an intrinsic part of us.
Obi-Wan was simply right. The force will be with us. Always.
