by David Brin
DAVID BRIN: Your Honor, I am a recognized expert on the politics of Star Wars. I refer you to my infamous Salon.com article published June 15, 1999-
MATTHEW WOODRING STOVER: Recognized by who, the Imperial Sith Show-Trial Fake Certification Committee? Five Kowackian monkey-lizards on a six-day spice-binge? Hey, this reminds me of a joke-a kid, ajedi and two droids walk into a bar in Mos Eisley-
DAVID BRIN: Only demigods need apply ... and only those demigods Yoda likes. But more about the nasty green oven mitt, anon....
MATTHEW WOODRING STOVER: I would like to take this moment to apologize to you personally for not putting some brutal torture of Princess Leia on-screen ... I'm sure we'd all feel better about her character if we could have watched her screaming in agony.
DAVID BRIN: Objection! That's not a question-he's just abusing the witness.
MATTHEW WOODRING STOVER: Shameless padding? "Show, don't tell"? Is that all you've got? No wonder you're an editor instead of a writer. That's the most pathetic excuse for a personal insult I've ever heard. As trash-talk goes, Mr. Hundreds-of-Manuscripts-per-Year, yours barely makes it to the level of a stuck-out tongue.
DAVID BRIN: For the record, I never declined a saber duel with Mr. Stover. I'm likely twice his age, yet my rusty skills from the Caltech fencing team should suffice. Bring it on, smart mouth.
OTHER TITLES IN THE SMART POP SERIES
Taking the Red Pill
Science, Philosophy and Religion in The Matrix
Seven Seasons of Buffy
Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Discuss Their Favorite Television Show
Five Seasons of Angel
Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Discuss Their Favorite Vampire
What Would Sipowicz Do?
Race, Rights and Redemption in NYPD Blue
Stepping through the Stargate
Science, Archaeology and the Military in Stargate SG-1
The Anthology at the End of the Universe
Leading Science Fiction Authors on Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Finding Serenity
Anti-heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's Firefly
The War of the Worlds
Fresh Perspectives on the H. G. Wells Classic
Alias Assumed
Sex, Lies and SD-6
Navigating the Golden Compass
Religion, Science and Demonology in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials
Farscape Forever!
Sex, Drugs and Killer Muppets
Flirting with Pride and Prejudice
Fresh Perspectives on the Original Chick-Lit Masterpiece
Revisiting Narnia
Fantasy, Myth and Religion in C. S. Lewis' Chronicles
Totally Charmed
Demons, Whitelighters and the Power of Three
King Kong Is Back!
An Unauthorized Look at One Humongous Ape
Mapping the World of Harry Potter
Science Fiction and Fantasy Authors Explore the Bestselling Fantasy Series of All Time
The Psychology of The Simpsons
D'oh!
The Unauthorized X-Men
SF and Comic Writers on Mutants, Prejudice and Adamantium
Welcome to Wisteria Lane
On America's Favorite Desperate Housewives
The Man From Krypton
A Closer Look at Superman
FOR THE PROSECUTION:
David Brin
FOR THE DEFENSE:
Matthew Woodring Stover
INTRODUCTION By David Brin 1
INTRODUCTION By Matthew Woodring Stover 7
OPENING STATEMENTS 15
FOR THE PROSECUTION: David Brin 17
FOR THE DEFENSE: Matthew Woodring Stover 55
CHARGE #1: THE POLITICS OF STAR WARS ARE ANTI-DEMOCRATIC AND ELITIST 81
FOR THE DEFENSE: Keith R. A. DeCandido 83
CHARGE #2: WHILE CLAIMING MYTHIC SIGNIFICANCE, STAR WARS PORTRAYS NO ADMIRABLE RELIGIOUS OR ETHICAL BELIEFS 97
FOR THE PROSECUTION: John C. Wright 99
FOR THE DEFENSE: Scott Lynch 121
CHARGE #3: STAR WARS NOVELS ARE POOR SUBSTITUTES FOR REAL SCIENCE FICTION AND ARE DRIVING REAL SF OFF THE SHELVES 135
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Lou Anders 137
FOR THE DEFENSE: Laura Resnick 151
FOR THE DEFENSE: Karen Traviss 159
FOR THE DEFENSE: Kristine Kathryn Rusch 169
CHARGE #4: SCIENCE FICTION FILMMAKING HAS BEEN REDUCED BY STAR WARS TO POORLY WRITTEN SPECIAL EFFECTS EXTRAVAGANZAS 183
FOR THE PROSECUTION: John G. Hemry 185
FOR THE DEFENSE: Bruce Bethke 199
CHARGE #5: STAR WARS HAS DUMBED DOWN THE PERCEPTION OF SCIENCE FICTION IN THE POPULAR IMAGINATION 217
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Tanya Huff 219
FOR THE DEFENSE: Richard Garfinkle 233
CHARGE #6: STAR WARS PRETENDS TO BE SCIENCE FICTION, BUT IS REALLY FANTASY 245
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Ken Wharton 247
FOR THE DEFENSE: Robert A. Metzger 263
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Bruce Bethke 279
FOR THE DEFENSE: Adam Roberts 287
CHARGE #7: WOMEN IN STAR WARS ARE PORTRAYED AS FUNDAMENTALLY WEAK 303
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Jeanne Cavelos 305
FOR THE DEFENSE: Bill Spangler 329
CHARGE #8: THE PLOT HOLES AND LOGICAL GAPS IN STAR WARS MAKE IT ILL-SUITED FOR AN INTELLIGENT VIEWER 341
FOR THE PROSECUTION: Nick Mamatas 343
FOR THE DEFENSE: Don DeBrandt 357
CLOSING STATEMENTS 369
FOR THE PROSECUTION: David Brin 371
FOR THE DEFENSE: Matthew Woodring Stover 379
THE VERDICT 383
ELL, IT'S DONE. The sci-fi legend of our generation is now complete. Our parents had Dr. Strangelove and 1984. Their parents were transfixed by H. G. Wells. The generation before that had Jules Verne.
And we got Star Wars, the biggest, most lavish, most popular and by far the most lucrative sci-fi drama ever. George Lucas's grand vision gave us resplendent vistas and a spectacular sense of wonder, while portraying a vivid range of possibilities that science, technology and forward-thinking might eventually bring about-inspiring us and drawing our eyes toward a far horizon.
But what horizon?
After all the dazzling explosions and lightsaber duels, all the spaceship chases and cryptic-guru Yoda-isms, all the droids and special effects and obscure political story lines, did we-did anyone-learn anything?
George Lucas certainly claims that he's been doing something more important than simply pushing eye candy. More valuable than just diverting the masses with some cash-generating entertainment. In various locales, spanning three decades, the Star Wars creator proclaimed that his epic teaches important lessons. For example, in a famous New York Times interview, he said: "Movies have a big voice, and what we filmmakers have to do is to set a good example."
So, after tens of billions of dollars-and human hours-spent watching the films, playing the games, buying the toys, reading the books and buying even more toys, have we come away enlightened, even inspired?
Inspired to do what? To be ... what?
Science fiction has never been modest about its aim to take on important issues. Beyond just "good versus evil" or "boy meets girl," there has always been a notion that SF is the true descendant and heir of Gilgamesh and Homer, of Virgil and Murasaki, of Dante, Swift and Defoe. Liberated from the constraints of day-to-day existence, it provides a canvas wide enough to portray and discuss real issues. Things that matter over the long ru
n.
Take those stories that Jules Verne created during the latter part of the nineteenth century. In his words, you can hear and feel the spirit of Verne's time-an era of ebullient, can-do confidence. Even as the age of earthly terra incognita was coming to an end, readers hungered to lift their eyes skyward, seaward-or even into the planet itselfcertain that new frontiers would soon unfold before a humanity that knew no bounds.
Of course, this surefire naivete had to crash, or at least grow up a bit. And H. G. Wells was just the man to throw on a little cold water, while taking science fiction to new levels, appealing to the concerns of worried adults. Always the contrarian, Wells told wild-eyed dreamers to grow up and smell the dangers ... then berated cynics who refused to hope. Technology can bite back, he warned, and the universe owes us no favors. On the other hand, he deeply believed that honest men and women might yet pick up tools and make a better world. Wells never stopped using stories to help make that happen.
Indeed, one of civilization's greatest tools has always been mythology. Legends and songs. Stories and dark lore. If George Lucas and I agree on anything, it would be that civilizations turn-they veer or rise and fall-depending upon the inspirations and goals that common people share. In part, this happens through stories, heard and told, then retold, whether around a campfire or a widescreen digital display.
Take the period that followed H. G. Wells. After the calamities of World Wars I and II, we needed something special in our legends. Something potent. We needed problem solving. Humanity faced some serious tasks, important maturity issues, like how not to destroy ourselves. And sure enough, science fiction stepped up to do its share.
Rolling up its sleeves, SF gave us the self-preventing prophecy ... the most serious and frighteningly plausible subgenre of science fiction. Tales about every possible or far-out way that things could go wrong. When they are effective, such stories have the uniquely powerful effect of ensuring that they do not come true! They do this by offering up stark and compelling warnings that worry an audience, and make millions think. Warnings that even stir at least a few citizens to take action.
How else can you describe Dr. Strangelove, Fail-Safe and On the Beach, which not only exposed specific failure modes, but also drove home the threat of losing it all to spasmodic nuclear war? Or Soylent Green, Silent Running and The China Syndrome, which prodded millions to join a newborn environmental movement. The Andromeda Strain was cited by delegates signing the treaty against biological warfare. Gattaca prepared us to wrestle with issues of genetic determinism. Even a spoof like The President's Analyst warned, with eerie foresight, about a steady, tech-driven decay of personal privacy.
Or take the greatest self-preventing prophecy of all, the one cited by every faction whenever it perceives some creeping tyranny, 1984. Millions shuddered at George Orwell's terrifying thoughts, words and images, coming away determined to struggle against Big Brother ever becoming real.
We will never know whether any of these specific warnings-or general morality tales, like The Day the Earth Stood Still-actually made a crucial difference. But we can say that, unlike those ill-fated Trojans, we do give our Cassandras some attention. Occasionally, we pay them well to scare us into getting a bit better.
Ah but then, at other times, we simply pay them to scare us, pe riod, with no other objective beyond a good, thrilling fright! Films like Alien point to another side of sci-fi. A side that does not have to justify itself with highfalutin purpose.
And that can be good too! Art is multispectral. There's plenty of room for everything from dark fantasy to heroic sword-'n'-sorcery. From wondrously joyful nonsense like The Fifth Element to deeply mystical multiculturalism like The Last Wave. From relentlessly serious exploration of a single universe, like Star Trek, to hilarious sendups like Galaxy Quest. Without any doubt, the people have a right to buy the entertainments that most appeal to them. And entrepreneurial storytellers have a right to sell tickets.
So, why did I spend all that time talking about the importance of myths and their role in helping civilization to choose its path? Because storytelling does span the entire range. And we have a right, perhaps even a duty when all is said and done, to talk about where a work of art fits along the spectrum, from important to fluff.
Especially a work of art that had the scope of influence, economic power, public exposure and relentless preachiness of the Star Wars epic.
Hence, the first issue to confront the authors and sages participating in this project was to argue whether the Star Wars saga is worth arguing about. Throughout this discussion, you will see some people claim-
-that the Star Wars universe and franchise are nothing more than harmless fun. A chance to drop back into childhood and punt your adult cares away for two hours, dwelling in a lavish universe where good and evil are vividly drawn, without all the inconvenient counterpoint distinctions that clutter daily life.
Ever since I first raised the question of Star Wars morality and storytelling flaws, in an infamous article published by Salon online, over a thousand people have written to comment, praise, complain, agree, disagree, make additions or offer fresh arguments. It's been lively, democratic and huge fun! Among the many defenses offered by devoted fans, foremost has been: "Chill out, man. It's only a flick. Just relax and enjoy the show."
Indeed, that philosophy has some appeal.
Got a problem? Cleave it with a lightsaber! Wouldn't you love just once in your life-to dive a fast little ship into your worst enemy's stronghold and set off a chain reaction, blowing up the whole megillah from within its rotten core while you streak away to safety at the speed of light? (Such a nifty notion! Count the number of times it happens in the movies ... and the enemy never learns.)
In fact, well, let me admit, that's pretty much how I did feel about the first of the Star Wars films to appear, Episode IV: A New Hope. What was there not to enjoy? A blatant, Nazi-helmeted mass murderer is bested by a princess, a smuggler and a young knight, avenging his father? Zowee. The movie's very lack of pretension made you take it at face value.
Or, as Yoda would likely put it: fluff and fun, the first movie was! Fluff 'n' fun I was ready for the whole series to be ...
... until The Empire Strikes Back. Then, wow, did I change my mind. And so did millions of others. Suddenly, thrilled by the deep script of Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan, and Irvin Kershner's tight direction-and deeply moved by a wondrous John Williams score-many of us simply sat and stared as the final credits rolled by, unable, unwilling, to move. This wasn't just fun anymore. It felt ... important.
I know I left the theater ebullient after watching TESB. Perhaps a little pompously, I told everyone that we had just witnessed the addition of something truly worthy to the Western mythological canon. With any luck, the rest of the saga would be even better.
That wasn't just fannish appreciation. I was at that time in the process of making my own transition from science fiction amateur to professional writer. So I wanted George Lucas to succeed with his grand epic for another reason... to prove, once and for all, that meaning can coexist with adventure, and thought can accompany fun. And in movies, even, where there is so little time or room for the kind of extended ponderings that an author may insert in a novel.
What we saw in films like TESB-and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan-was growing confidence in a kind of science fiction that could take on issues (amid spectacular space battles) and ponder human existence (between dramatic laser sword fights).
Moreover, George Lucas clearly agreed. As I intend to repeat whenever anybody says "they're just movies," Lucas clearly and openly believes in the important effects of storytelling. Touting works of the late Joseph Campbell, he has often spoken of The Power of Myth. Campbell's books, like Myths to Live By and The Hero with a Thousand Faces, maintain that the biggest legends, those that penetrate the most hearts and fill the most lives, are also powerful in helping to direct those lives. Even diverting the path of whole civilizations.
In any event, there is one conclusive answer to "it's only a movie."
That answer is: You've already bought a book whose whole purpose is to discuss meaning and consequence in the Star Wars universe! Everybody who contributed, from accuser to defender, believes there is something worth arguing about. We'll do it because the topic matters, or because it's fun to argue, or because we're being paid to argue. Most likely, all three.'
Indeed, one point that I intend to make later on is that this civilization likes to argue. Openly and democratically. Alas, in the Star Wars universe, nobody knows how. At least nobody who matters.
But that's for later. The purpose of this introduction was to set the stage. And now that's done. The participants in our drama-our moot "trial"- were all hand-picked by BenBella Books to participate in something fun. They are standing by, ready to begin yet another entertaining riff on George Lucas's epic masterpiece. A journey into the dark heart of meaning that some of us believe must lie beneath, under all the glossy surfaces.
If stories and myths reflect who we are, and where we're headed ... what does Star Wars say about us?
Where does it say we should be going?
NLIKE SOME FOLKS 'round these parts, I'm only going to make one Star Trek reference.
Dammit, Jim, I'm a storyteller, not an essayist.
So:
Saturday afternoon, June 1977, Danville, Illinois. Danville is a little industrial town buried in a tangle of railroad tracks and cornfields three hours south of Chicago; in those days it had a GM foundry and some meatpacking plants, a sheet-aluminum producer and some big grain elevators and a fifteen-year-old me, a week out of ninth grade with five bucks lawn-mowing cash in my pocket and a blue Schwinn English Racer, and some goofy flick called Star Wars playing at the old Fischer Theater a mile and change downtown. A kid named Jeff Masters showed up at my front door a little after one o'clock with his own bike (also a Schwinn-an Orange Crate, I think) and asked if I wanted to check out this goofy flick, and I'd seen a grand total of one commercial for it (on late-night TV out of Terre Haute, Indiana), but it had lots of shooting, a guy swinging over a chasm with a girl in his arms, spaceships, Peter Cushing and Alec Guinness, and the temperature was already over ninety and our lone window-unit air conditioner was on the fritz, so I said, "What the hell."
