Light & Magic "Gang of outsiders." "On the bucking bronco."

Parts One and Two of Lawrence Kasdan's Six-Part Docuseries about ILM

(Rubs hands together)

Hoooooo Boy!

Disney Plus has released six episodes of Light & Magic, a docuseries directed by the only man nearly as responsible for the tone of Star Wars as George Lucas, Lawrence Kasdan. After all, Kasdan co-wrote The Empire Strikes Back with Leigh Brackett and Return of the Jedi with George Lucas; co-wrote The Force Awakens with J.J. Abrams and co-wrote Solo with his son. He also wrote the screenplay for Raiders of the Lost Ark. Basically, Lawrence Kasdan should just be walking around with a t-shirt that reads You’re Welcome.

But Kasdan’s focus for Light & Magic is not writing (although I’d watch the heck out of a documentary about writing by Lawrence Kasdan); it’s how the visual star-sausage gets made. Light & Magic is a look at Industrial Light & Magic, the visual effects Force that made Star Wars; and made films like Star Wars possible.

I’ll foreground this all with: I am a total sucker for these types of documentaries. I do think there can be a tendency to make them rather bland, especially if they’re made in the spirit of self-celebration. Still, there’s something joyful about seeing this group of barely 20 year olds light toys on fire on their way to reinventing Hollywood. There’s also something sweet about watching these aging gents look back on the thing they accidentally made through their fashionable beards in the mid 70s.

My top-line impression is that this is, so far, a very fun watch for fans of movies and of Star Wars in particular, but it’s not covering a lot of new ground. There are plenty of books and documentaries about how Star Wars was made. I’m not much of a stickler for new ground anyway, but I think that the first two episodes of Light & Magic would be the perfect jumping on point for a new fan who is just learning about people like John Dykstra, Dennis Muren and Joe Johnston. This would be a very watchable gateway spice for a contemporary fan of The Mandalorian. They might find it fascinating to see what distance was traveled to get to The Volume.

One subtle reason I think the first two episodes work so well is that Kasdan maps out each part to end on cliffhanger. When you read “binge-worthy” or “this is bingeable” what that really means is that a show is written like an old serial. The final moments of binge-worthy show are always “wait a second!” or “how will they get out of this one?” That’s why, for example, The Sopranos is not very binge-y, in my view. Every episode plays like a movie with with a beginning, middle and end. But if you watch, I don’t know, Archive 81? “Let’s see what happens next!” is the first thing you think at the end of every episode. Light & Magic uses that structure. That makes 60 minute episodes of aging guys talking about attaching bolts to cameras somehow fly right by.

Here’s a few quick impressions from “Gang of outsiders” and “On the bucking bronco.”

George Lucas is a hard guy to work for.

Clearly, George Lucas was(is?) a stubborn, relentless, uncommunicative perfectionist. Even in documentaries meant to sing the man’s praises, his closest friends imitate him in a way that makes him sound like a wildly challenging person. It’s precisely these qualities that made it possible for him to build what he built. Many of the most difficult things about us are often the things that make us special. I sometimes wonder if it is as hard for him to be as it is for others to be around. It seems so.

Super Glue

One of my favorite moments in the first two Parts is the triumphant appearance of industrial super glue, which saves them tons of time while kit-bashing. It’s the little things. Kasdan gets it: he gives Super Glue it’s own after-credits scene. Three cheers for Eastman 910 Adhesive!

Everybody? Joe Johnston. Joe Johnston, everybody!

Is there a person in the history of nerdy movie-making as under-appreciated as Joe Johnston? I mean, yes, he’s won Academy Awards, but let’s take a parsec (yes, I am aware that this is a measure of distance) to appreciate this incredibly talented person. Not only did he design the Millennium Falcon as a part of being one of the founding members of ILM; but this man also directed my favorite Marvel Movie Captain America: The First Avenger. (My rules about not-having-favorites do not apply outside of Star Wars.) He did VFX for all the Star Wars movies and two Indiana Jones pictures. HE directed Jumanji and Honey I Shrunk The Kids and The Rocketeer. (Oh and the most unintentionally funny movie I’ve ever seen, 2010’s The Wolfman.) Bless this man. Get him a drink, if he still drinks.

Making A Mess

Making Star Wars was a gamble and fiasco. It was trial and error, made in a place that looked like an auto mechanic’s garage, by people who liked to tinker and mess with motorcycles. The sets got destroyed in the desert (as they would again while making Episode I); the studio wanted to cut the final battle to save money; they had two effects shots done six months before release.

That feels recognizable to me. In my life outside this newsletter, I’m a playwright and I’ve done a lot of trying to bring my own work to the stage. It’s never a clean process: there are always compromises, things unfinished, overheated arguments about seemingly unimportant details, and not enough time.

I’ve seen the sentiment among fans that a messy process is evidence that something is wrong with a production. That the producer isn’t good at her or his job; that the director is difficult; that the actors are divas. This is, though, how people really make things. They throw a bunch of things into a soup of nerves, talent, ambition, and ego. They hope beyond hope that it tastes good when it’s finally served.

The Maker(s)

The secret handshake of many of the hardest of hardcore Star Wars fans is to call George Lucas “The Maker.” Yes, he was the founder of the feast, but a group effort is required to do, basically, everything in life, especially make films. The first two Parts of Light & Magic make that as plain as an American cheese sandwich.

There’s value in remembering this. Cultural mythology often puts Great Individuals (too often Great Men) at the center of narratives, treating the head of an organization as if they are the company itself, and ascribing blame and credit to a single person. We do this in politics, we do this in business, we do this in the arts.

It doesn’t take away from the accomplishments of one person to accurately describe the contributions of others. In fact, it reminds us that each of our eccentricities, obsessions, hobbies and talents can contribute in their own way to something when we are asked to fully participate. George Lucas could not draw, for example. He could barely talk to actors. He came back from shooting in England and had to be shown how ILM was doing its work. His expectations adapted to what could be done. He had to rely on the expertise, talent and designs of others. He was bull-headed and willful and he imagined a lot, but he needed Ralph McQuarrie, Alan Ladd Jr., Gary Kurtz, the misfits at ILM, and his friends like Francis Ford Coppola and Steven Spielberg, to get him to the finish line.

Star Wars was not made by one person. It had Makers, not just a Maker.

Turn It Upside Down

One of the more inspiring moments for me was watching John Dykstra talk about scale and how to make what we’re watching on film “indistinguishable from reality.” He points out little subliminal details, like keeping the Star Destroyer that opens Star Wars entirely in focus as it fills the frame. Subtle choices like these always give me new appreciation of the tricks of perspective and cinematography that make what we love come to life.

Richard Edlund then talks about getting the shot itself. As they were making this movie, as fast as they could, completing shots to hit a rapidly approaching release date, they had to overcome obstacles within the limitations of their technology. Cameras, for example, had to be placed somehow in relationship to models. Everything we saw in the original Star Wars was captured in camera, nothing was made by a computer. So in order to get the camera close enough to the model of the Star Destroyer and appear to have the ship fly over the camera, Edlund had to flip the model over and shoot it upside down.

I’m always looking for a new cliche to replace an aging one! From now on instead of saying “How can we think outside the box?” I will ask “How can we turn this upside down?”

Those Original Shots!

One of the delights of the first two episodes of the docuseries is that they show original shots from Star Wars as they were released in 1977. It’s actually difficult to see some of those shots in the wild, as many have been replaced by the 1997 Special Edition CGI upgrades. It gave me hope (A New Hope?) that we will someday see the original Star Wars at least semi-restored at some point. I know that remains unlikely, but this world has its way of surprising us. Maybe in 2027, for the 50th Anniversary, we’ll see Lucas relent and release his original imperfect film in all its model-glory.

What We Make For Ourselves, We Make For Others

One thing I kept thinking about while watching this documentary was Disability Rights. Hear me out.

Throughout history, whenever we innovate for one reason, we find we have made the world a better place for other reasons. If you live in a major city, perhaps you’ll notice that each sidewalk corner has a little dip where one can cross the street. That dip was added for individuals who need additional accessibility. That dip? Improves everyone’s lives. It’s used by strollers, it’s used by people who cart laundry and groceries. Accessibility for some is accessibility for all.

Do you like audiobooks? Do you like the audio feature that Substack has on its app? (You can have this read to you by a charming computer if you like!) Audiobooks were originally made for the blind. This innovation was not made so you could listen to War & Peace on a long drive to pick up your nephew at the airport. But guess what? You get to do that anyway.

ILM was not built in order to someday make The Avengers. These guys weren’t trying to revolutionize the industry. George Lucas wanted to make his movie. He wanted to make a movie where the spaceships looked real and moved fast. They had a shot list and a release date. No one else could do it, so he made a company that could.

By focusing on their own goals and getting this one movie made? This band of drop-outs, industrial designers, matte painters and home-movie enthusiasts made something for everyone. It’s a reminder, at least to me, that we can’t know the good we put into the world. What’s new, what’s added, will have applications beyond what we can know. That’s an exciting thought.

Anyhow, there’s a lot more to dig into in the first two parts! I’d love to hear your impressions and thoughts in the comments! Responses to the rest of the series, in two-episode installments, are forthcoming.