The recent development of Disney’s “Star Wars” buyout has left nerds, young and old, with a horrible taste in their mouth.
While I would normally champion the side calling George Lucas a hack for such a blatant sell-out move, I’ve found myself quite the opposite since the shameful news. I feel the opposite not because I support the buyout, but rather because inside instead of a feeling of betrayal, a black hole remains where there was once a childlike sense of hope in me. It is the type of resigned mentality that can only come from a person who has already been back stabbed numerous times, a soul that has come to expect nothing less than utter disappointment from the Lucas franchise.
It has been announced that the new Star Wars movies will be made by Disney as they have purchased Lucasfilm Ltd. from George Lucus. (Amy Leder/CU Independent)
Because let’s be real here: George Lucas sold his brainchild for blood money over 10 years ago. He burnt the impossibly likable second trilogy to the ground when he birthed Jar Jar Binks in 1999 and then scattered the remains into a sea of garbage when Darth Vader moaned out the wimpiest “NOOO” of all time in 2005. Whatever Star Wars used to be, it isn’t that anymore. Lucas selling the franchise off to Disney is just beating a dead Wampa at this point. Any integrity the series used to have was bartered off long ago.
The indifference I currently feel is one that I’ve never experienced before but unfortunately seems like one I’m going to have to get used to as time keeps passing. Rather than the outrage that comes when an artist you love seemingly turns their back on you, all that’s left is an accepted sense of defeat. As is the nature of the entertainment industry, it seems as we grow older the inevitable selling out of people we thought were once rock and roll is setting in in a weirdly natural way. After all, if Kurt Cobain were still alive today, he’d likely be realizing that long hair and an attitude can’t pay for Frances Bean’s college tuition.
My one solace from this void of faith in the entertainment industry is that without high expectations, the harsh blow of reality stings a lot less now. Knowing in advance that the next three “Star Wars” movies will all be sh– and that Alvin & the Chipmunks will likely be singing me Top 40 songs before I see any movie in the summer helps cushion the pain just a little bit more. It doesn’t change that the series I once looked upon fondly will now have more terrible installments than good ones, but maybe it’s time to just put our bad feelings to rest and look for the next decent thing to obsess over for 35 years.
Contact CU Independent Staff Writer Sam Goldner at Samuel.goldner@colorado.edu.
