“The secret to the movie business, or any business, is to get a good education in a subject besides film — whether it’s history, psychology, economics, or architecture — so you have something to make a movie about. All the skill in the world isn’t going to help you unless you have something to say.” — George Lucas
As we’re approaching the 50th anniversary of the first Star Wars film (Episode 4, A New Hope), it strikes me that this film franchise has lessons and interesting tidbits to learn. Only by unpacking the high density of Star Wars (more than just an eye candy fest!) can we get to the good parts. Let’s begin.
George Lucas’s masterpiece was not engraved in stone. For example, did you know that Luke Skywalker was supposed to be called Luke Starkiller? I suspect the fact that Luke and Leia were brother and sister may have been a later addition, because most mainstream directors would not have had siblings kissing each other romantically.
Be that as it may, Star Wars continues to attract legions of new fans. Why is Star Wars crushing its only real competitor, Star Trek?
Star Wars is a grittier, more realistic galaxy than Star Trek. Money matters in Wars. Thanks to replicator technology (make me a Christmas sweater with reindeer on it! Earl Grey, hot!) there’s no need to worry about scarcity in the universe of Trek. There are no replicators in Star Wars. Everything has to be made with an intelligent push and a source of energy. Even the Death Star is a massive government project, subject to cost overruns and time schedule slip-ups. Darth Vader says the Emperor is arriving to supervise the construction — “The Emperor is not as forgiving as I am.” Ta-Hah! Right!
Of the nine primary films in the franchise, the best film is Episode 5, The Empire Strikes Back. We have Cloud City, which is one of the purest examples of capitalism run amok ever put to celluloid, we have Luke training on Dagobah with Yoda, the fallen Jedi master (“Hello, my little green friend …“), we have meaning-intense light saber fights, infused with realism and a touch of pathos.
George Lucas read The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell to get a rough feel for what a hero’s mission should look like. The idea behind Campbell’s book is that the same hero-figure keeps popping up in widespread, diffuse cultures and even though he looks different from the neck-up, he’s always the same guy. Lucas was inspired to put Luke (Lucas, Luke) on a desert planet and make him the son of a hick. He ends up traveling the galaxy and seeing the sights, but his roots are as humble as they come.
In Episode 1, when Anakin Skywalker is a child, we return to the same desert planet. The echoes with the first three films are poignant. Anakin enters “pod racing” events with two-headed announcers and uses his genius-level mechanical skill to create C-3PO and R2-D2. Like the young Adolf Hitler in The Rise of Evil (great docudrama, by the way, you can find it on YouTube), young Vader (Anakin) is a darkly looking boy. He looks like he would grow up to strangle snakes. (Or babies, as the case may be.) By Episode 2, Anakin is already ready to shuck his gay hairstyle for something a little more … swank.
On a census survey in Australia, recipients were asked to identify their religion. Tens of thousands put down “Jedi religion.”
Star Wars is celebrated May 4th — May the Fourth be with you.
The experimental anti-ballistic missile system Ronald Reagan proposed was soon dubbed “Star Wars” — this in the mid-Eighties, after Episode 6, the third film, had been released.
These are some examples of real world reverberations from the founding of the films. There are countless more examples. More than one boy clenched his fist and tried to force-move a pencil toward himself. The toys that were released after the films (profits which specifically were listed on contract as going to Lucas himself) were played with in countless homes. The ultimate toy was a scale-model Millennium Falcon smuggler’s craft/star fighter. This expensive gadget was worth the money — countless play-hours could be dedicated to it alone. In conjunction with the other toys, you had a universe of imagination waiting to unfold.
Star Wars raked in big bucks at the theater complexes, but it was shut out of a Best Picture award at the Academy Awards in the year of its release. There is a bias against commercially successful arts ventures, as if the money made compensates for a lack of critical applause. Stephen King would suffer a similar fate until King started complaining about it — then the awards started pouring in for him. Lucas would have been wise to make a similar public lamentation.
What are some of the lessons of Star Wars? Let’s touch on them.
evil pays
The Emperor climbs to the top of the garbage heap, starting as Chancellor in a galaxy of equals, and uses evil every step of the way. Darth Vader kills little children and ends up freed of his figurative servitude. Lando Calrissian is a robber baron type whose City manages to thrive under deals with the dark Empire. All around Star Wars, including pre-strangulation Jabba the Hutt, we see examples of evil being repaid with success.
Being good costs Luke his hand. He has to wear a nifty little metallic number to make up for it. Being good kills the Ewoks in their hopeless battle against the metal walker robots. Being good is not as important as family relations — blood matters, genes count, and questions of ethics take a back seat. It is not good that wins in the end, but family loyalty that wins out. An evil man would rather wipe out his Master than see his only Son go down the tubes in flames. The Master failed to couple insight to his evil, thus forfeiting all the evil gains he had made.
the force is for elites only
David Brin wrote a long, complaining essay where he said that the Force is a civil war between two halves of the same royal house. (Then he earnestly states his desire to see the new film.) He’s right: this is an elitist proposition. Ordinary Joes wield blasters, and the Force can block them with ease, one hand up deflecting the energy bolts.
Ordinary Joes fill out the Stormtrooper ranks, and are scythed down in battles against the Rebel Alliance. Ordinary Joes are losers; the Jedi and the Sith — the wielders of the highly mystical Force — are winners through and through.
size doesn’t matter
Look at Yoda. Judge me, do you? Well that you do not. This pint-sized microbe wields a light saber with the best of them. He isn’t intimidated by the taller sentients out there in the galaxy. He walks with dignity.
Only Lucas could have created such a memorable character. Other than Darth Vader, the two most memorable characters in all of Star Wars are Yoda and Boba Fett, the bounty hunter. Lucas wisely brings back Fett in the prequels, or Fett’s father, who wears the same Mandalorian armor, so it amounts to the same thing.
Perhaps the greatest lesson of Episode 5 is when Yoda closes his eyes and “lifts” Luke’s starfighter out of the swamp water with his mind alone. Luke couldn’t do it. (“That is why you fail.”) Even though Luke was bigger and Yoda was unassuming, it took a true Jedi Master to reveal the fundamental forces running through the universe. The Force is it, man!
Star Wars is good fun for the whole family — even when Anakin cuts off Dooku’s head with 2 crossed light sabers in Episode 3. The brutality of Star Wars is never shown up with realistic gore. In the post-quels, Han Solo meets his end with a clean stab of a red saber and plummets to his death … Neatly taken care of.
Star Wars appeals to the kid in us. For a moment, we are transported in wonder to a time when reality was new. For that, we have Lucas to thank — and the force that unites and binds the many millions of fans of the franchise spread across the globe, and soon to be the stars …
Dark Sport 
I really enjoyed your perspective, and I find it interesting that you see Star Wars as more realistic. However, I have to disagree on that. While it’s true that Star Wars deals with money and has a more ‘capitalist realism’ approach, as Mark Fisher would put it, Star Trek also tackles themes related to economics and resource scarcity. If you watch Deep Space Nine, you’ll see the Ferengi and how they embody capitalist principles. Star Trek might seem to solve everything with technology, but it’s more nuanced than that.
Star Trek places a much greater emphasis on science. For example, the warp drive literally bends space-time, which is a far more refined concept based on actual physics theories. The idea of folding space to travel faster than light gives Star Trek a scientific depth that Star Wars lacks, where the space travel and lightsabers feel more like magic than science.
Even the replicators in Star Trek are derived from Einstein’s equations on the relationship between matter and energy, particularly E=mc2. This concept of converting energy into matter has a real theoretical basis, even though we’re far from achieving it. So while Star Wars leans more on fantasy, Star Trek tries to ground its technology in plausible scientific ideas.
Additionally, Star Trek emphasizes diplomacy and ethics. It has strict rules, like the Prime Directive, which prevents interference with less advanced civilizations. They also often set their phasers to ‘stun,’ prioritizing non-lethal solutions over violence. These elements reflect real-world diplomacy and conflict resolution, making Star Trek more realistic in terms of how societies and politics function.
That said, I’m a fan of both series, but I prefer Star Trek because it makes you think deeply about science and politics. Star Wars is great fun, but it’s more of an action-driven spectacle for the masses, whereas Star Trek (I’m talking about the TV shows, not the movies) pushes you to reflect on the future, ethics, and scientific progress.
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I agree with most of what you wrote on Star Trek vs. Star Wars. I have a quibble about diplomacy being realistic. Diplomacy only works in reality when it is backed by potential force, and Star Trek’s squishy soft emphasis on dialogue and the Prime Directive strikes me as a luxury in a harsh universe filled with potential (or real) enemies.
I do agree that Star Trek is more thought-provoking than Star Wars, and I’m glad you emphasize it’s the TV shows not the movies which accomplishes this feat. But remember you said: Star Wars is action for the masses. I’m a “popularity contest” and “blockbuster success” kind of guy: if it works for the masses, it’s superior. Star Wars has won the contest for affections in the hearts of the many, and Star Trek is a distant (cold) second place. That’s for the best, I think.
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I appreciate your perspective, especially regarding the need for force backing diplomacy in reality. Star Trek, however, provides a utopian vision that, contrary to what many believe, doesn’t necessarily explore humanity overcoming an ‘instinct for violence.’ I don’t think humanity has a natural instinct for violence. Instead, I see a death drive, as Freud discussed, but I also believe we have qualities like collectivism, cooperation, and empathy—both among humans and between humans and animals. Star Trek highlights these virtues, showing that we can build a better future by embracing them.
As for the ‘popularity contest,’ I see where you’re coming from, but I’d argue that cultural depth isn’t always about reaching the masses. Reaching the masses is often just a matter of money—marketing. I’ve worked in this field for years, and I know the power of a good campaign. With the right resources, you can make almost anything popular. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it has the most depth or value.
In a way, this reminds me of Joker 2, where society’s preference for shallow entertainment over meaningful reflection is exposed. The movie critiques how we tend to reject uncomfortable truths and complex narratives in favor of what’s easier to consume—just as Star Wars might win the popularity contest, but Star Trek invites us to question and reflect.
That said, I honestly don’t like thinking in these hierarchical terms of ‘superior’ and ‘inferior.’ It feels like a very United Statian and, frankly, toxic way of approaching culture. The focus on winning or being ‘better’ in such an exaggerated way makes me a bit sad, as it detracts from appreciating things for their unique contributions rather than pitting them against each other.”
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Your final paragraph struck me as deeply profound. “I honestly don’t like thinking in these hierarchical terms of ‘superior’ and ‘inferior.'” And the rest that went along with it.
You, Victor, see things from a human, humane perspective. I am all about the opposite. I am about victory and dominance and dominion. Because a product wins in the marketplace, it is by definition the top one, because it has bested all comers. I see the market as a ruthless place. It is crowded with offerings, and there’s dizzying choice. Something that stands out and becomes popular has won the Darwinian battle for economic survival. It is a champion among brutes, a warrior among sycophants. The winner in the commercial world — as a successful rapist that forces itself on the consciousnesses of the weak — is a monster who’s good-looking, charming and successful. I believe in the power of rape. I’m a believer in the idea nothing succeeds like success.
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Your response deeply concerns me. The language you’ve used, particularly the analogy involving rape, is not only disturbing but also completely unacceptable. Success, whether in the marketplace or elsewhere, should not be framed as an act of violence or domination over others. I reject the notion that anything resembling this kind of brutality is a valid path to greatness.
Political realism often frames everything as a struggle for power and violence, but that’s not how the world actually functions. That kind of mindset might thrive on Reddit threads or among teenagers who fancy themselves ‘edgelords,’ but in the real world, things are far more complex. Success doesn’t have to mean trampling over others. It’s about building something that benefits people, not tearing them down to prove some twisted point.
If you think this kind of performance is ‘cool,’ then fine—good for you. But I need to firmly position myself on the opposite side of this discussion. And this isn’t a simple opposition grounded in utilitarian ethics that seeks the greatest good for the greatest number. I see value in death as well, but I think glorifying one or the other is a structuralist mistake. Life is precious precisely because we die.
Philosophers often divide themselves into those who say ‘yes’ and those who say ‘no.’ I consider myself a philosopher of the ‘no-yes,’ trying to bring the beauty of Confucianism into the discussion. Freedom of expression, for example, isn’t something that’s just given to us as a right. It’s something we have to earn through practice. We only truly have freedom of expression if we engage in self-censorship and mutual respect. It’s not about having a right to say whatever we want—it’s about conquering that freedom through the way we treat others.
Democracy for the people can only be guaranteed by the dictatorship of the people. A society of respect and non-violence can only exist if we actively practice non-violence. Violence, in our society, is simultaneously glamorized and marginalized, and we need to recognize the complexities of that contradiction.
Everyone is free to do what they want, but I urge you to be cautious with the ideas you spread. Some ideas are dangerous, and they have real-world consequences.
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@Victor Stueck
“Your response deeply concerns me. The language you’ve used, particularly the analogy involving rape, is not only disturbing but also completely unacceptable.”
Ah, but that is the moralist speaking, and I reject morals. You have a fine mind, Victor; it’s a pity it’s mired in the ways of the past, outmoded ways that can get you killed in the future.
The future belongs to those who will seize it. Squishy-soft emotions such as you espouse have no place in the future. There’s nothing wrong with rape, as I refuse to see women as sentient, valuable beings — they’re flesh toys that are there to be used, manipulated and DISCARDED.
You also caution me about expressing my ideas for fear they may spread. I would certainly hope that my worldview becomes THE dominant worldview that is around on our planet. Why would I be shy about wanting a world like me? I hate this world. I despise its values, its substance, its lies and its false fronts. The world is more like me than it is like you. But, you, the minority have usurped the culture to become the face of the majority. This is why I hate the liberal. He is a weak do-gooder who steals things that do not belong to him. Like the military. Like the culture itself. I have no patience or time for censoring religious right-wingers either, but they don’t run things. Men like you do.
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I see that you’ve chosen a path filled with contempt for others, especially for women, and that deeply saddens me. According to Confucian principles, a truly strong person is one who knows when to act and when to restrain themselves. Strength isn’t about domination or cruelty—it’s about mastering yourself, understanding the world, and seeking harmony. You speak of dominance as if that’s the only way to exist, but I see weakness in your words.
Your worldview, one where violence is glamorized, is shallow and fails to grasp the complexity of life. Violence, like everything else, has its place, but it is not the essence of strength. I don’t reject violence outright, nor do I promote a naïve liberalism. I understand that in certain moments, force may be necessary. But to embrace violence as your core philosophy, as you have, is to ignore the greater wisdom that comes from understanding the nuances of human relationships and societal structures. I actually feel pity for you. To think in such a limited, hateful way is a reflection of your inner struggle, not of the world around you.
You live in Canada, a country of immense privilege, where you have the chance to live a fulfilling life. Instead of focusing on what’s wrong with the world, maybe it’s time to confront your own demons. What you’re expressing is an outward projection of unresolved conflicts within yourself. Have you considered looking inward?
I also invite you to actually read the posts on my blog instead of just commenting for engagement. Chasing after interactions without substance is a clear sign of weakness. If you can’t even read the texts before commenting, what does that say about your capacity for real dialogue? You might even find my post about Joker interesting. But I want to be clear—if this level of misogyny continues, and if you’re unwilling to even slightly reconsider your position, I won’t be engaging with your blog anymore. There’s no reason to entertain such hatred when dialogue is meant for growth and understanding.
However, I do believe people change. Identities are fluid, and nobody stays the same forever. You have the ability to grow, to change your mind, to become a better person, should you choose to do so.
To quote one of my country’s great musicians, Raul Seixas, in his famous song ‘Metamorfose Ambulante’ (‘Walking Metamorphosis’): ‘I prefer to be this walking metamorphosis, than having that old opinion about everything.’ Raul was speaking about the importance of embracing change, of being open to shifting perspectives, which I think is a message that could resonate with you if you’re willing to listen. You don’t have to be the same person tomorrow that you are today.
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@Victor Alfons Steuck – Greg uses this kind of language often here. And you are certainly not the first to take offense to it. I have expressed my concern in the past. But I admire his authenticity foremost. And I believe a good many people share his dark beliefs. Therefore, I view his honesty as a valuable opportunity to understand the Dark Side of humanity, for it lurks in all of our hearts, at least to some degree. And you of course may disagree, with me too. But do not spend too much time and energy in your responses here – I can assure you he is not going to change.
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We might say Star Trek is more Head, Star Wars more Heart. A quiet optimism pervades the Star Trek Universe, beginning with the opening line, “to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before!” To – Spock is a great ambassador to the Franchise for these reasons regards. He is both highly rational and ethical. Even though the First Star Wars movie is titled, “A New Hope” the Galaxy is cold, ruled by iron-clad fist of the Empire. I like Greg’s observations that immoral behavior is often rewarded. Case and Point, Lando. And the importance of family in Star Wars is another very interesting observation. This was after all, around the Time of The Godfather.
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@Experience Film
I would agree with your assertion that Star Trek is thoughtful and Star Wars is visceral. But Trek lacks something. Rather than jump into action, they have a line like “the warp drive oscillator is vacillating electrotechnically; I’ll try to fix that.” Techno-jargon takes the place of a good light saber fight.
Spock may be rational, but he’s also a dweeb. The Star Trek universe is FILLED with dweebs and losers who rise up to high ranks. In Star Wars, you can see the sense in who rules. In the Empire, the Emperor has risen to the top of the ranks from nothing, starting with the chancellorship and ascending to the ultimate tier. Vader is likewise a nothing child who overcomes a childhood of slavery to get real power. In Trek, we’re all middle class simpletons who have fallen into success. If you check the hyperlink, you’ll see what I mean.
There’s no real struggle in Star Trek. Star Wars is all struggle. To gain mastery of the Force is itself a struggle, based on lifelong achievement. The Sith select an apprentice whom they can teach. Star Trek Academy in San Francisco is like a whitebread version of what school is supposed to be. Even the racial minorities are whitebread in Trek. Geordi LaForge, black engineer in the bowels of the Enterprise-D, is like Oprah Winfrey in his Oreo-cookie whiteness.
Star Wars lets the aliens be themselves. Jabba the Hutt is an outright pig and revels in it. He’s charming because of that. There isn’t a whitebread sensibility to Wars, despite the first film being exclusively White in its human casting. Lucas appreciates the alien in the universe. The Klingons, by counter-example, are Japanese-Russian honor-driven barbarians who are easily explicable in human terms. The alien who shouts “It’s a trap!” or the Ewoks run by their own rules.
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Star Trek does back diplomacy with force. The Enterprise isn’t running around without defense systems, after all. What the Federation doesn’t do is use force against people who aren’t a threat just to get what they want, so its diplomacy appears softer than it really is.
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The main reason the Enterprise is armed is to provide drama for the series. In ideological terms, Star Trek is a universe that slants toward peace and the transmission of thought-provoking ideas. Star Wars is much more obviously militaristic — part of the reason for its higher levels of popularity.
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The Empire was not as stable as it might have appeared, it woyld eventually collapse on its own internal vices. It would have suppressed variance as well as initiative – which in long run would have proven fatal.
But waiting for Empire’s collapse would be fatal too – there wouldn’t be capable individuals left in sufficient number by then.
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I’m glad you found this post, as it is one of my favorites.
I disagree that the Empire would have collapsed of its own “vices.” The Republic had grown unworkable, and the Empire was designed to be a solidifying force counteracting the centrifugal forces tearing the galaxy apart. The Emperor needed a designated successor, however, or his succession would have resulted in civil war.
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