Success had brought him low, with his marriage on the rocks, and his health at times perilous, most evident during the long periods he was away to shoot the pictures that had for so long been trapped inside his head. Success was certainly bittersweet. He had wealth, he had opportunity, but why did it feel as if he was losing himself? There was so much he once thought he understood, that now seemed confused. The little bosses had become big.
Having seen The Elephant Man, and then having secured a print of Eraserhead, George was eager to work with David Lynch on the next Star Wars picture, perhaps too eager. During their meeting he happily shared with Lynch his new obsessions, the figurines, the this, the that. It dawned on him after the call from Lynch’s agent explaining his refusal that the two hadn’t discussed the story at all. The refusal bruised George’s ego, and considered for a time that he ought to direct the picture himself, as he had for the first, but he knew his marriage wouldn’t survive it. It barely survived Empire.
He withdrew for a time, with his best friend Steven away working on his own things. He truly wished Steven could direct the picture for him, but their separate feuds with the Directors Guild meant it was not meant to be. So he withdrew, as he knew Jesus and the Buddha were known to do, and meditated on the whole thing. Who would helm the third Star Wars film? Should there even be a third? Should he even make films anymore? Perhaps he ought to join a monastic guild somewhere in Europe, or perhaps a temple of one of the Eastern religions.
The call to David Cronenberg went as best as possible, especially considering George went into it with the expectation of another refusal. Cronenberg didn’t want to work on another's material, George told him to make it his own. Cronenberg only did films he wrote himself, George told him to write it himself. Cronenberg was in the process of shopping a script around, George promised he would personally finance it. In the end, Cronenberg agreed to sit in the directors chair.
In the end, miracles occur. Marcia announced she was pregnant, an effort finally fulfilled after many years of fruitless attempts. Indeed they had been in preparations to adopt a child, although those plans were now put on hold. Where in the beginning George was perhaps not being fully truthful with Cronenberg in the degree of freedom he would have on the third Star Wars picture, now life required it to become the truth. With a seemingly divine stirring, and some helpful words from his friend Steven, and after many conversations with his beloved, the pair took off to Brazil, a form of seclusion. There was a genuine worry that the pregnancy would miscarry.
That was not to be. The nine months that followed Marcia’s announcement were some of the happiest moments of their marriage, and indeed George’s entire life up to that point. The creation of a soul stacked high in comparison to any film or anything else George had done with his life. While in Brazil, George and Marcia had a recommitment ceremony in the Amazon, attended by a few of their friends. He would call Cronenberg and the producers to get updates on the project's progress, but he surrendered the process to them. He found a trusted shaman in the Amazon, and took monthly ayahuasca trips. Somewhere along the way, he found new definitions of success. He found new stories to tell.
Somewhere along the way, he found himself. Not who he was, nor who he thought he was, nor who he thought others wanted him to be, but rather the type of awareness that can only produce meekness. Where once he was proud, now he was virtuous. Without even intending to look, he had found the Great Spirit, the very same that was driving him when he first directed Star Wars. Once more he was in love, and in fact in love with loving itself. What did this mean for the future of Star Wars? In these moments he cared little to find the answer, for surely when it was time the answer would reveal itself.
In being lost he became found. Where he had been losing the plot, as a result of a simple gentle inward stirring, George once more felt connected to the things that had inspired him to start down this Star Wars journey. He was awake, having not realized he had fallen asleep, and now must awaken all others. Thoughts of Kubrick’s monolith dominated his nights. Just weeks before Marcia's due date, George awoke in a fit and called Cronenberg, the two then talking for hours, and on topics they never had before. Suddenly they were talking on the phone every night, somewhere their minds having meshed and all at once they were working towards the same goal with the same moves.
They were determined, the third Star Wars picture would be the best yet...
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