Stars and Sharks
George Lucas' Apartment, Los Angeles, CA
July 25, 1974
George Lucas was so mad, he might have been seeing red. He was working hard on the drafts and revisions and ideas for Project Starlight (now renamed The Star Wars), but with all of this new information coming out about President Nixon and Watergate and Vietnam--well, he'd gotten a little sidetracked. This space odyssey of his was getting pretty influenced by the events of the times, specifically how democracies can fall so easily to tyrants.
Right now, The Star Wars was in its first rough draft, after consisting of pages upon pages upon pages of science-fantasy jargon. The protagonist, at this point, was undefined, a phantom figure with the title of Jedi Master and a son. But the other major characters were getting somewhere, like Annikin Starkiller, either an imperial general or a preteen boy (he hadn't decided yet), Han Solo, a fish-like green Corellian smuggler, and Solo's pal Chewbacca, a hairy beast inspired by Lucas' own dog, Indiana. None of this was final, of course. More research in the science-fiction genre would be needed, and Lucas still wanted some form of a Flash Gordon-esque character to appear somehow.
When Lucas needed a break from all the political hubbub of the outside world and the insanity inside his own new universe, he took a break to work out more of his other, pet project, The Adventures of Indiana Smith. It had since become an amalgamation of World War Two and treasure hunting, with Nazis appearing as the somewhat-incompetent antagonists. As for what Indiana Smith would be hunting for... well, there was a lot of thought being put into that. Lucas was considering something religious at first, like the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail, but legendary artifacts like Excalibur or the legendary Greek shield Aegis or even mythological places like the Library of Alexandria or Atlantis piqued his interest. The latter two were suggestions from Walt, who would from time to time pop in on Lucas and make a few suggestions on either of his scripts. While most of the ones for The Star Wars went unheeded, Indiana Smith was receiving quite the overhaul from him, having even suggested the name change from "Smith" to "Jones" ("It just has a better ring to it," Walt had said).
Throwing his newspaper aside (which blared headlines in big block text about the latest in Watergate and the Nixon scandals), George Lucas put his head in his hands for a second, to collect himself. He needed to get his mind off things somehow... maybe he should call someone. Anyone really. Just talk to them. Picking up his Rolodex and flipping through it to the "S" section, he found just who he was looking for: an old pal from college.
July 25, 1974
Steven Spielberg was so mad, he might have been seeing red. He'd been struggling with this damned animatronic shark for the past two months, and nothing seemed to be going his way. So when his phone rang, he was more than happy to pick it up.
"Hello. Steven Spielberg speaking. How can I help you?" he asked into the mouthpiece.
"Hey, Steven. It's me, George."
"George? George Lucas?" Spielberg asked.
"The one and only," replied Lucas.
"The legendary director of American Graffiti? The greatest filmmaker to grace the planet Earth?"
"Oh, shut up. We all know for a fact you're a much better director. Speaking of which... how goes wrangling ol' Brucie up north?"
"You mean the biggest piece of shit excuse for a shark the world's ever seen? It's going terribly. The main fish got too waterlogged again and we had to stop shooting for the day," complained Spielberg.
"I talked to Dreyfuss the other day. Said you guys had an incident a week or two ago with the other sharks, and they fell into deep water?" asked Lucas, stifling a chuckle.
"Yeah. And it took another ten hours to get 'em back up and out of the water. I swear to God, this picture will be the death of me, my career, or both."
The pair talked for hours all through the night, Lucas bouncing ideas for The Star Wars and Indiana off his pal and offering solutions to Spielberg's Jaws problems. Finally, Spielberg had to sign off to get some rest. As he fell asleep, visions of mechanical sharks and Sith Lords and Nazis swam before his eyes, taunting him until he finally drifted off.
July 25, 1974
George Lucas was so mad, he might have been seeing red. He was working hard on the drafts and revisions and ideas for Project Starlight (now renamed The Star Wars), but with all of this new information coming out about President Nixon and Watergate and Vietnam--well, he'd gotten a little sidetracked. This space odyssey of his was getting pretty influenced by the events of the times, specifically how democracies can fall so easily to tyrants.
Right now, The Star Wars was in its first rough draft, after consisting of pages upon pages upon pages of science-fantasy jargon. The protagonist, at this point, was undefined, a phantom figure with the title of Jedi Master and a son. But the other major characters were getting somewhere, like Annikin Starkiller, either an imperial general or a preteen boy (he hadn't decided yet), Han Solo, a fish-like green Corellian smuggler, and Solo's pal Chewbacca, a hairy beast inspired by Lucas' own dog, Indiana. None of this was final, of course. More research in the science-fiction genre would be needed, and Lucas still wanted some form of a Flash Gordon-esque character to appear somehow.
When Lucas needed a break from all the political hubbub of the outside world and the insanity inside his own new universe, he took a break to work out more of his other, pet project, The Adventures of Indiana Smith. It had since become an amalgamation of World War Two and treasure hunting, with Nazis appearing as the somewhat-incompetent antagonists. As for what Indiana Smith would be hunting for... well, there was a lot of thought being put into that. Lucas was considering something religious at first, like the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail, but legendary artifacts like Excalibur or the legendary Greek shield Aegis or even mythological places like the Library of Alexandria or Atlantis piqued his interest. The latter two were suggestions from Walt, who would from time to time pop in on Lucas and make a few suggestions on either of his scripts. While most of the ones for The Star Wars went unheeded, Indiana Smith was receiving quite the overhaul from him, having even suggested the name change from "Smith" to "Jones" ("It just has a better ring to it," Walt had said).
Throwing his newspaper aside (which blared headlines in big block text about the latest in Watergate and the Nixon scandals), George Lucas put his head in his hands for a second, to collect himself. He needed to get his mind off things somehow... maybe he should call someone. Anyone really. Just talk to them. Picking up his Rolodex and flipping through it to the "S" section, he found just who he was looking for: an old pal from college.
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Menemsha, Martha's Vineyard, MA
July 25, 1974
Steven Spielberg was so mad, he might have been seeing red. He'd been struggling with this damned animatronic shark for the past two months, and nothing seemed to be going his way. So when his phone rang, he was more than happy to pick it up.
"Hello. Steven Spielberg speaking. How can I help you?" he asked into the mouthpiece.
"Hey, Steven. It's me, George."
"George? George Lucas?" Spielberg asked.
"The one and only," replied Lucas.
"The legendary director of American Graffiti? The greatest filmmaker to grace the planet Earth?"
"Oh, shut up. We all know for a fact you're a much better director. Speaking of which... how goes wrangling ol' Brucie up north?"
"You mean the biggest piece of shit excuse for a shark the world's ever seen? It's going terribly. The main fish got too waterlogged again and we had to stop shooting for the day," complained Spielberg.
"I talked to Dreyfuss the other day. Said you guys had an incident a week or two ago with the other sharks, and they fell into deep water?" asked Lucas, stifling a chuckle.
"Yeah. And it took another ten hours to get 'em back up and out of the water. I swear to God, this picture will be the death of me, my career, or both."
The pair talked for hours all through the night, Lucas bouncing ideas for The Star Wars and Indiana off his pal and offering solutions to Spielberg's Jaws problems. Finally, Spielberg had to sign off to get some rest. As he fell asleep, visions of mechanical sharks and Sith Lords and Nazis swam before his eyes, taunting him until he finally drifted off.
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