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Profile: Joss Garman

Joss Garman joined the environmental movement at 14. He has since been arrested over 20 times and wa

Early years

Born in 1985 in Mid-Wales, Joss Garman was one of four boys. His parents work in the emergency services equipment industry and his father is the inventor of the world’s first bath lift. With parents who are nature lovers, as well as members of Greenpeace it seemed only logical that Garman would cultivate a passion for the great outdoors. “I was surrounded by beauty and wildlife,” Garman told newstatesman.com. “I was really into Gerald Durrell books and I had my own menagerie with snakes and spiders.”

“But I guess my political awakening came when I was 14 years old. I read an article by the curator of Entomology at Oxford, George McGavin, about a beetle species. He basically argued that if a handful of these beetles were destroyed it could damage a whole ecosystem.” Moved, the young teenager set about finding ways in which he could help the environment around him. He wrote to Greenpeace to ask if he could volunteer for them. On discovering that there was no local branch of the organization in his area, Garman took on the task of setting one up.

Before attending Hereford Sixth Form College he was at the local comprehensive, something Garman is keen to get on the record as he says many paint him as an ex-public school boy. It was while at the college that he became involved in direct action.

Activism

He spent his sixth form years running the branch of Greenpeace he set up and standing outside supermarkets with the CND, campaigning against the Wylfa power station, as well as handing out leaflets against GM crops.

It was at 16 that Garman was first arrested. He had broken into Fairford US air base in order, according to some sources, to damage American bombers heading for the war in Iraq. Garman’s parents were members of Greenpeace and while they had not been activists being supportive of their son came easily, despite the many arrests that were to follow. “I was always slightly nervous obviously but I was definitely prepared to do it.”

Another protest against the Iraq war was an organised day of civil disobedience. “I organised a mass walkout at our school and all surrounding schools in Hereford joined in.” Not much later Garman found himself in the back of a police van in 2004, after he was caught getting onto a runway at USAF Fairford in Gloucestershire. At this time Garman was volunteering with Trident Ploughshares, a part of the international nuclear disarmament movement. A number of volunteers were attempting to stop bombers going off to Iraq. All charges against the 17 year old Garman later dropped.

What of other campaigns? “As a campaign of mass education, it would be difficult to think of Make Poverty History as anything other than very successful. It got newspapers from The Sun to The Guardian involved and raised awareness of the plight of the majority of the world. But in terms of tangible campaign successes, it was clearly massively disappointing and I think even the leaders of that campaign would agree with that.” Another frustration was the lack of priority given to climate change by the development community during the campaign. “On the other hand, Christian Aid, WDM and increasingly Oxfam are joining up to make it one of their top issues what with all of them working to stop the plans for the first new coal-fired plant in decades at Kingsnorth.”

Garman doesn’t think though that direct action is an isolated type of campaigning and shouldn’t be seen as such. “The reason why the campaign against GM crops was so successful was that it combined mass communication, lobbying and education with peaceful direct action - a pattern that’s been repeated with the campaign to stop airport expansion.”

Plane Stupid

After finishing his A-levels at 17 Garman took a year out. He went to London to volunteer for Greenpeace and at the time worked on the EU legislation regarding GM crops. He then went to Chile for six months to visit family; his grandfather was Chilean. Visiting South America again the following year was to be the last time he’d board a plane. He then came back to attend the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in London where he read politics. He graduated last year with a 2:1 after doing his dissertation on the Stern Review.

While a teenager volunteering with Greenpeace, Garman met Graham Thompson and then at a student party on the night of Bush’s re-election they met Richard George. They went on to found Plane Stupid in 2005. As a network of activists targeting the aviation industry, Garman believes that Plane Stupid fundamentally changed the debate. “Marginal seats in London will be won or lost on the Heathrow issue,” he says, “Boris Johnson would have committed political suicide if he’d backed the third runway.”

The main aim of the organisation’s work was to highlight the issue of short haul flights. They saw it as the single fastest growing threat to the climate. According to Garman, almost half of all journeys taken in Europe are less than 500km, one fifth of the flights from Heathrow are short haul. “If they got rid of those flights there would definitely be no need for a third runway, they would have so much free space.”

The group first came to prominence when they gate crashed an aviation industry conference releasing balloons with rape alarms attached. Then in 2006 they broke into East Midlands airport in order to stage a sit in on a runway.

“It is only now that the aviation industry is facing taxes, they have been subsidised by the government to the tune of £10 billion a year! No one travels to Glasgow by train because that will cost you £150, but £10 for a flight. The government is effectively encouraging people to take the more polluting option.” Does the busy Garman manage to get away without the use of planes? “I leave London as often as possible, most weekends. I’ve just spent a few weeks camping in the Outer Hebrides.” How did he get there? “I took a train and then a ferry. It was just fantastic.

“We have until 2015 to get our levels of carbon emissions down” says Garman, “We need an entire transformation of our economy to suit a low carbon lifestyle. It’s a scientific thing, not an ideology.” For those in the movement, 2015 is the point of no return.

“I met Gordon Brown at the Labour Party Conference last year and asked him to reject a third runway because it’s not compatible with Britain cutting emissions. He said, "You've got a big job mate." This has not deterred Garman and the group has definitely made an impact on the public and government’s approach to the issue. Appearances on Newsnight and columns in major broadsheets and magazines have left Garman a very busy 24 year old. “Newsnight was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done,” he explains.

Kingsnorth

Recently, Garman has been involved with the defence of the six Greenpeace activists on trial for the damage they caused to a chimney at the Kingsnorth coal-fired power station in November 2007. The action was taken after it’s owners EON announced plans to build an even bigger plant next door. Four members of the defence had spent nine hours scaling the chimney with the intention of painting “Gordon, bin it!” on the side. They only managed “Gordon” before an injunction was brought against them. “There were about 30 of us. We just walked straight in a back gate. We hit all the emergency stop buttons and I chained myself to a conveyor belt. In shutting down the plant for only one day we were stopping the equivalent of 30 developing countries worth of pollution.”

It turned out to be a landmark case in the battle against climate change and the actions of the activists were found to be legally justified as they were in fact preventing greater damage to property and people around the world.

At the trial Professor Hansen, a director of NASA who is believed by many to be the world’s leading scientist in the fight against climate change, gave evidence for the activists. “Then we had a leader of the Inuit people speak on our behalf as well. He came to tell the court about how the effects of plants such as this were affecting his way of life.”

Coal is the main focus for Garman at the moment and with the government soon to be making decisions on coal fire stations, the job of Greenpeace is to build up on the opposition that is already out there and broaden it.

Movement

With his work Garman says at least he can witness the changes he is making and there is also the variety, “One day I’m shutting down a plant and then the next day I’m putting on a suit and meeting advisors to government.” It is not always easy though, he was recently refused entry to any of the party conferences, along with fellow Greenpeace activist Anita Goldsmith. With a smile on his face he says that he would only have been there to lobby MPs and stage some debates, “It’s hardly surprising when you look at my record that they wouldn’t allow me in.”

As a shot of energy into the environmental movement Garman is not deterred by any difficulties he may encounter, like Brown’s remark on the runway question. According to Poyry, (the global consulting and engineering firm) if the government hit the existing renewables and efficiency targets there’d be no need for new coal plants. “No one has contested the figures of Poyry. I think the government could definitely hit the targets. I mean, look at Germany. They generated so much green electricity, they have a quarter of a million people employed in the renewable energy industry.”

When asked if he thinks people are apathetic to the climate change issue Garman says no, rather, they are disillusioned. “There is a massive gap between the government and the public when it comes to the environment. They are interested and they are worried.” He doesn’t think marching is the way to make a difference though. It made no difference to the Iraq war. “I see my role to force politicians make changes.” With his track record of constant activism over nearly 10 years it’s no wonder he was once nick-named the ‘turbo-activist’ by fellow Greenpeace volunteers.

Who does he admire in the environmental movement today? “It’s the grass root activists in the movement. They inject an urgency and passion that can’t be ignored. Then there’s also Al Gore. He is one of the most successful campaigners of our time. He’s transformed US public opinion.” Garman feels that the turn around that has occurred in America puts the British government to shame. “There is more action from the backwards, Southern conservative states of North America than there is from Brown” Garman despairs. “We’ve had the suffragettes and civil rights, we need another movement.”

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Starting Star Wars: How George Lucas came to create a galaxy

On the 40th anniversary of the release of the original Star Wars, George Lucas biographer James Cooray Smith shares the unlikely story of how the first film got made.

While making THX 1138 in 1970, writer/director George Lucas told composer Lalo Schifrin that he wanted to make a Flash Gordon picture, an updating of the 40s sci-fi serials that he’d enjoyed as a child. It would, however, be those serials not as they were, but how he remembered them as having been. When the rights to these proved unavailable, he began to work on original idea, hoping to create something similar, but which he would own himself.

In January 1973, after completing his 50s nostalgia picture American Graffiti but before its release, Lucas began his outline for this space adventure. The first line of this near-incomprehensible document was The Story of Mace Windu. Mace Windu, a revered Jedi-Bendu of Opuchi who was related to Usby CJ Thape, Padewaan learner to the famed Jedi.’

"Jedi" was a word Lucas had coined to describe a clan of warrior mystics who were essential to his story. A man whose fascination for Japanese cinema had become a general interest in Japanese cultural history, he’d named them after the branch of Japanese drama that drew moral and instructive lessons from stories set in the past – Jidai geki.

This version is set in the thirty-third century and features a teenage Princess, droids, an Evil Empire and a grizzled Jedi warrior, General Skywalker, whose plot role resembles Luke’s from the finished film, although his character is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s. It climaxes with a space dogfight and ends with a medal ceremony. Among the planets named are Alderaan (here the Imperial capital) and Yavin, at this point the Wookiee homeworld. Some characters from this draft (Valorum, Mace Windu) would eventually find a home in The Phantom Menace more than twenty years later.

By May Lucas had a 132 page script, The Adventure of Anikin Starkiller. Skywalker had acquired the forename Luke but was no longer the protagonist. This was Anikin (sic) Starkiller, one of the sons of General Skywalker’s old comrade, the partially mechanical renegade Kane Starkiller. Anikin had to protect a Princess, aided by two robots R2-D2 and C-3PO.

Lucas had worked backwards from Flash Gordon, looking to uncover the source of his appeal, hoping to transfer it to his own story. Once he’d worked his way through the comic strips of Gordon’s creator Alex Raymond, he tackled Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jules Verne and Edwin Arnold’s Gulliver on Mars. Conversations with his New Hollywood peers about the archetypes thrown up by his reading – and which he increasingly saw everywhere – brought him into contact with Joseph Campbell’s then newly published Myths to Live By (1972) an anthology of lectures and essays from a man who devoted his career to identifying the basic archetypal characters and situations which he felt underpinned all human mythologies.

"The book began to focus what I had already been doing intuitively" Lucas later said, an idea which seemed to him to itself reinforce Campbell’s contention that such archetypes and situations dwelled in a collective unconsciousness. Lucas expanded his reading to epics of all kinds, and began planning a visual style that would combine the vistas of Japanese master director Akira Kurosawa with the kind of static-camera realism which he’d used on American Graffiti.

Lucas wanted over-exposed colours and lots of shadows, but shot in a way that made them seem unremarkable. Seeing the Apollo missions return from the moon "littered with weightless candy bar wrappers and old Tang jars, no more exotic than the family station wagon" had illustrated to him the problem with every fantasy movie ever made. Their worlds never looked like people lived in them. His film would depict a "used future". Describing the aesthetic he’d sought to American Cinematographer he explained: "I wanted the seeming contradiction of…fantasy combined with the feel of a documentary."  To Lucas Star Wars wasn’t science fiction, it was "documentary fantasy".

There was only one studio executive Lucas thought had any hope of understanding what he was trying to do, Fox’s Alan Ladd Jr, son of the late actor. Like Lucas and his contemporaries in New Hollywood, Ladd was a man driven by a love of cinema. Lucas could communicate with him through a shared vocabulary, describe a planned scene as being like something from The Searchers (John Ford, 1956) or Fahrenheit 451 (Francois Truffaut, 1966) and be understood. Ten days after his presentation to Ladd, they signed a development deal. Fox agreed to pay Lucas $15,000 to develop a script, plus $50,000 to write the movie and another $100,000 to direct it, should it actually be made. American Graffiti associate producer Gary Kurtz was named as Producer for Star Wars, and received $50,000.

The script development money gave Lucas enough to live on whilst he continued work on the screenplay. As he did so it changed again; a ‘Kiber Crystal’ was written in and then written out. Skywalker became Deak Starkiller’s overweight younger brother before becoming the farm boy familiar from the finished film. Characters swapped names and roles. A new character named Darth Vader – sometimes a rogue Jedi, sometimes a member of the rival ‘Knights of Sith’ – had his role expanded. Some drafts killed him during the explosion of the Death Star, others allowed him to survive; across subsequent drafts his role grew. Some previously major characters disappeared altogether, pushed into a "backstory", Lucas choosing to develop the practically realisable aspects of his story.

This is an important clarification to the idea that Star Wars was "always" a part of a larger saga, one later incarnated in its sequels and prequels. That’s true, but not in an absolutely literal way. Star Wars itself isn’t an excerpted chunk of a vast plotline, the rest of which was then made over the next few decades. It’s a distillation of as much of a vast, abstract, unfinished epic as could be pitched as a fairly cheap film to be shot using the technology of the mid 1970s. And even then much of the equipment used to make the film would be literally invented by Lucas and his crew during production.

In August 1973 Graffiti was released and became a box office sensation, not only did the profits make Lucas rich (he became, at 29, a millionaire literally overnight) its success meant that Lucas was able to renegotiate the terms of his Fox deal. Rather than making demands in the traditional arenas of salary and percentages Lucas wanted control of the music, sequel and merchandising rights to his creations. Fox conceded him 60 per cent of the merchandising, aware of its potential value to them, but eventually agreed that Lucas’s share would rise by 20 per cent a year for two years after the film’s release. Few films made money from spin-off products for a whole 24 months, and Star Wars would surely be no different. Lucas got the sequel rights as well, albeit with the proviso that any sequel had to be in production within two years of the film’s release or all rights would revert to Fox.

Most important amongst Lucas’ demands was that, if it went ahead, he wanted the film to be made by his own company, not by Fox. That way he could control the budget and ensure all charges and costs made to the production were legitimately spent on the film. The experience of watching Mackenna’s Gold being made while a student on placement a decade earlier had taught him just how much money a studio could waste, and on a film like Star Wars – which was both ambitious and would inevitably be under-budgeted – it was crucial that this did not happen. Control of the music rights also had a sound reason behind it. Universal were making a fortune out of an American Graffiti soundtrack that was simply a repackaging of old hits featured in the movie. Of the profits of this Lucas saw nothing despite having selected the tracks featured and fought long and hard for their inclusion in his film.

In March 1975, Ladd took Lucas’ draft to the Fox board. They passed it and budgeted the film at $8.5m. Characters bounced in and out of that script right up to the preparation of the shooting draft, dated 15 January 1976. This was tailored to be as close to the film’s proposed budget as possible, and contain as many of the ideas, characters and situations Lucas had spent the past few years developing as he considered feasible.

This draft is the first version of the script in which Kenobi dies fighting Vader. Previously he had been injured, but escaped with Luke’s party. Alec Guinness, who had already been cast, was initially unhappy with this change, but was persuaded by Lucas that a heroic death followed by appearances as a spectral voice would prove more memorable to audiences than his spending the last third of the film sitting on Yavin whilst the X-Wings went into battle.

Filming began on location in Tozeur, Tunisia on 22 March 1976. Before shooting Lucas sat his crew down and made them watch four films which he felt between them defined what he was after in Star Wars. Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 (1969), Douglas Trumbull’s 1975 Silent Running, Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time In the West and Fellini’s Satyricon (Both 1969). The Leone picture was full of the sun-blasted vistas Lucas wanted to evoke for Tatooine, and the Fellini film, with its aspects of travelogue and attempts to portray an entire society in a fly-on-the-wall manner gave an idea of the "documentary fantasy" approach the director was so keen on. All four films shared one vital element: they’re windows onto lived-in worlds remarkable to audiences but regarded as ordinary by the film’s characters.

The first scenes shot for Star Wars were those of Luke buying Artoo and Threepio from the Jawas outside his foster parents’ home. Producer Kurtz had allowed 11 days for the shoot, after that a borrowed army C130 Hercules was scheduled to pick up the cast and crew.

A few days into shooting, creature make-up man Stuart Freeborn was taken ill and had to be flown back to Britain where he was diagnosed with pneumonia. Other crew members contracted dysentery. On 26 March Tunisia experienced its first winter rainstorm for half a century, damaging equipment and exterior sets delaying filming of key scenes.

Lucas wanted the stormtroopers to ride ‘dewbacks’, dinosaur-like domesticated beasts that allowed the troops to move across the desert. One dewback was built, out of foam rubber stretched over a wire frame. It could only be used in the background and no one was ever seen riding one. The other live animal Lucas wanted to portray was a Bantha, a huge horned, shaggy beast reminiscent of a prehistoric mammoth. It was to be the mode of transport for the Tusken Raiders, faintly Bedouin, vaguely mechanically-enhanced humanoids who attacked Luke in the Jundland wastes. In the end, creating the beasts proved impossible, and while they were referred to in dialogue in scenes that were shot (‘bantha tracks…’) none of their sequences were lensed.

As hard as the shoot was on Lucas, he at least had an idea of what he was trying to do and how it would all fit together. The actors, suffering stomach troubles, sunburn and long days, were less clear. Anthony Daniels trapped inside an almost immovable fibreglass body suit suffered the worst. Twenty five years later he would give credit for helping him to get through the Tunisia filming to Alec Guinness. "He was incredibly kind to me…I firmly believe that I wouldn’t have completed that arduous task of shooting without him."

Once the Tunisian shoot was over, the cast moved to EMI Elstree Studios in Borehamwood, outside of London. Star Wars was being made in the UK because it wasn’t possible to shoot the film in Hollywood at that time, not that Lucas – with his lifelong disdain of LA itself – wanted to anyway. Star Wars required nine stages simultaneously, something that no Hollywood studio complex could guarantee at anything like sufficient notice. In March 1975 producer Kurtz had flown to Italy to look at studio space, but found nothing suitable. He then caught a plane to London, where Lucas joined him.

Together they scouted UK film studios. Pinewood was a possibility, but management insisted Lucasfilm hire their technicians, a condition which became a deal-breaker. Neither Shepperton nor Twickenham had enough sound stages (although the giant Stage H at Shepperton  - bigger than any stage at Elstree – would ultimately house one scene of the film) which left only EMI Elstree. Then losing £1 million a year, Elstree was being kept open more or less on the insistence of Harold Wilson’s government, whose allies in the Trades Union movement considered the closing of the facility unconscionable. Elstree had no staff, and anyone who wished to rent it had to supply their own technicians and much of their own equipment. Off-putting to many, it sealed the deal for Lucas and Kurtz, who wanted to move their own people in. They hired the facility for seventeen weeks starting at the beginning of March 1976.

To design and build the sets needed to turn to Elstree into a realisation of Lucas’s screenplay they hired John Barry, a British designer who had worked under Ken Adam on Barry Lyndon (Stanley Kubrick, 1975) a film Lucas admired enough to hire its costumier John Rollo as well.

Elstree’s two largest stages were given over to Mos Eisley Spaceport and the interior of the Death Star. Both the Mos Eisley hangar bay and the one inside the Death Star which replaced it on the same stage were constructed around the full size Millennium Falcon set created by John Barry’s protege Norman Reynolds. Built by Naval engineers at Pembroke Dock, Wales it was 65 feet in diameter, 16 feet high and 80 feet long. It weighed 23 tonnes.

The absence of Stuart Freeborn, still recovering from Tunisia, meant that most of the aliens seen in the Mos Eisley cantina sequence were completed by assistants and lacked any articulation at all. Unhappy with the scenes as shot, Lucas resolved to do to re-shoots back in the USA.

The last scenes to be shot were for the opening battle, as Vader and his stormtroopers boarded the blockade runner. With little time Lucas used six cameras, manning one himself (Kurtz manned another) and shot the sequence in two takes. The six cameras produced so many different perspectives on the action that even the duplicated events that are in the film are unnoticeable. The finished sequence, chaotic though the creation of it was, is amongst the best put together moments in the movie, a superb evocation of Lucas’ documentary fantasy approach, and the cameras dart in and out of the action like reporters shooting newsreel footage. Virtually the first live action seen in the picture, its style later went a long way towards convincing audiences that what they were seeing was somehow real.

Principal photography completed on 16 July 1976, although some re-shoots and pick up shots for the Tatooine sequences were undertaken in Yuma, Arizona in early 1977. Amongst those scenes shot were those featuring the Banthas. Lucas borrowed a trained elephant from Marine World, and had it dressed to resemble a more hirsute, fearsome pachyderm. Mark Hamill was unavailable to participate. He’d crashed his car of the Antelope Freeway in LA shortly before and was undergoing painful facial reconstructive surgery. Although Hamill should have been involved in the re-shoot, in scenes of Luke’s landspeeder moving across the desert, Lucas had no choice but to film them without him; he took a double to the shoot, dressed him in Luke’s costume and put Threepio in the foreground. Also re-shot, over two days in La Brea, California, were portions of the cantina sequence. New cutaways and background shots were filmed to be inserted into the Elstree footage in order to eliminate as of the unsatisfactory masks as possible.

While supervising editing of the film Lucas experienced chest pains, and was rushed to hospital where he was treated for a suspected heart attack. He was later diagnosed with hypertension and exhaustion, both exacerbated by his diabetes.

Fox were by now trying to book Star Wars into cinemas, and had picked a release date in May, long before the 4th July public holiday, long regarded as the opening weekend of summer. Fox wanted $10m in advance bookings for Star Wars, desperate to recoup an investment that internal studio sources had now decided was foolish. They secured less than $2m, and achieved that only by implying to theatres that they wouldn’t be offered Charles Jarrot’s much-anticipated The Other Side of Midnight if they didn’t sign up for Star Wars too. Before its release several exhibitors complained at this "block booking" and filed suits; Fox was later fined $25,000 for the practice, punished for forcing cinemas to agree to show something which was, by the time they paid the fine, the most financially successful movie ever made.

In early 1977 Lucas screened Star Wars for a group of friends, it was nearly finished – although the opening crawl was longer and many of the special effects shots were absent, represented instead by sequences from World War II films and real combat footage shot by the USAF. Among those present were Brian De Palma, Alan Ladd Jnr, Steven Spielberg and Jay Cocks. Martin Scorsese had been invited but troubles editing his own New York, New York meant he didn’t turn up.

De Palma hated Star Wars, and spent the post-screening dinner rubbishing it to anyone who would listen. Others present were unsurprised, De Palma had behaved in the same way during the group screening of Scorsese’s’ Taxi Driver; laughing loudly through Cybill Shepherd’s conversations with Robert de Niro, and at one point shouting "Shit!" halfway through a tense scene. Only Spielberg seemed impressed, and told Lucas that he thought Star Wars would take $100m. Lucas pointed out that nothing took $100m, and countered that Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind would do better at the box office. The two directors wrote what they considered realistic estimations of what each other’s film would make in its first six months of release on the inside of matchbooks, which they then traded. By the time Lucas got round to opening Spielberg’s matchbook and saw the figure $33m in his friend’s scrawling hand Star Wars had already made ten times that.

Odd as it seems now, when every blockbuster is prefaced by months of breathless, unrelenting media "enthusiasm", Star Wars wasn’t released on a wave of hype or accompanied by an extensive marketing campaign. It was released (on 25 May 1977) to thirty-two screens, after a barely publicised premiere at Mann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood. It made $2.8m in its opening week, but didn’t receive a nationwide release for two months. Despite almost unprecedented success in preview screenings, Fox were still unsure of what to do with Lucas’ bizarre children’s film. Indeed it, only got a Hollywood opening at all because William Friedkin’s Sorcerer – which had been intended for this slot at Mann’s – wasn’t finished.

So negative had advance feeling about Star Wars been that Lucas left the country; he was still in LA on opening day, finishing the sound edit (he was unhappy with the copy playing downtown, and unknowingly embarking on a lifetime of revising his movie) but the next day he and his wife (and Star Wars film editor) Marcia flew to Hawaii, where they were joined by friends, including Spielberg and Amy Irving. It was an attempt to escape what Lucas felt would be the inevitable terrible reviews and wrath of the studio. Even when Ladd called him to share his excitement over the movie’s colossal opening weekend, Lucas was unmoved; all movies labelled science fiction did well in their first few days due to the business attracted by the neglected fanbase for such things. It was only when the film continued to do outstanding business and was expanded to more and more theatres that Lucas considered returning early from his holiday, and began to realise that the film he’d just delivered had changed his life.

As "Star Wars" expanded into more cinemas, and people began to queue round the block to see it, shares in Fox climbed from well under $10.00 to $11.50 each; over the next three months the value rose to $24.62, nearly trebling in price, such was the film’s value to the embattled studio. It was a magnificent vindication for Alan Ladd Jr, who had more than once had to intervene to stop colleagues closing down the film’s production completely. He had never lost faith in Lucas and his bizarre idea, but he was virtually the only person employed by Fox itself who hadn’t.

Just a few weeks before, as the end of the financial year approached, Fox had tried, and failed, to sell its investment in Star Wars to a German merchant bank as an emergency pre-tax write off.

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