Death to the Ewoks

It is nearly a given that sequels seldom live up to the promise of the original film, though there have been a few happy surprises since Hollywood sat up shop over 100 years ago. Sixty-five years later that industry produced Star Wars and nothing was ever the same afterward. For better and for worse.

I’m a screenwriter and producer, and I fully understand the concept of show business. Hell yes, there are payrolls to meet, mortgages to pay and shareholders that expect a massive ROI. But the profit motive doesn’t excuse everything. I’m sure Billie Eilish makes a fuck-ton of money for Interscope. But just imagine how much extra cash they could make farming her out to Hustler to shoot hardcore porn… or an occasional gangbang fetish film with Rottweilers and Dobermanns!

Okay, perhaps that was an overly graphic example but it conveys the depth of my loathing for the sad trajectory of the Star Wars franchise. Let me explain, briefly.

Joseph Campbell was a literature professor who promoted The Hero’s Journey mythology. He wrote, “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.” That IS Star Wars. Albeit the film has some cutesy and arguable corny elements, but they are seasoning that enhance the fare.

 The Empire Strikes Back not only built upon this promising foundation, it far eclipsed it. Empire was a rich, complex story replete with big surprises, thrills, spectacular effects, a mature love story, and an oh so deliciously dark edge that made it more grown up than the first film. It was so phenomenal, I had huge expectations for the next sequel.

 Instead, George Lucas took a huge dump all over the grownups who’d been suckered in by the promise that Empire made. Storywise I cannot fault The Return of the Jedi, which also delivered the action and visuals that we’d come to expect. Carrie Fisher’s slavegirl costume was a nice touch, too. I could have even stomached the hamhanded corniness, like Darth Vader turning into a Nice Guy at the end. But those fucking Ewoks ruined everything.

Those waist-high, teddybear-looking rodents with the bad teeth and unblinking eyes were deliberately inserted to shove the franchise into the Family film category and create a whole line of merchandising and spinoffs. What better way to suck in the pre-tween audience than an army of cutesy, overgrown hamsters that posed no real danger to blaster-armed opponents? The original script called for a Wookie planet, but I guess the Chewbacca dolls weren’t a big moneymaker.

The final betrayal came with the fourth film (The Phantom Menace) and a comic-relief character named Jar-Jar Binks. He was directly aimed at young children, and that was the last straw. Furthermore, it was clear to many that Jar-Jar was based on racist caricatures. The Wall Street Journal called him a, “Rastafarian Stepin Fetchit.” Had that character been created within the last few years, the Twitterverse would have “literally” exploded with outrage and heads would have rolled.

I understand the need for Hollywood executives to buy bigger and faster yachts to tow their solid-platinum water skis. However, when a franchise as promising as Star Wars gets pimped out in favor of a larger audience share and stuffed toy sales, well then fuck you. I was all done with the franchise after that movie. If that was the market they were after they could have it.

With regard to the image that accompanies this article, it was drawn by a very dear and talented friend who works in Hollywood. In my fantasies for Revenge of the Jedi I see Leatherface emerging from the trees and vertically bisecting every Ewok with a chainsaw. Or better yet, Princess Leia in her metal bikini. I am so grateful for a friend who so indulged my wistful daydream. And who agrees the franchise was ruined.