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What happens to Labour if Jeremy Corbyn wins again?

How the leader and his opponents are already preparing for the post-contest battles to come.

On 24 September, at a special conference in Liverpool, Jeremy Corybn will be re-elected as the leader of the Labour Party. This, at least, is the outcome that MPs anticipate. The party’s leadership contest has more than five weeks to run but few believe Corbyn’s soft-left challenger, Owen Smith, will prevail. “Corbyn’s going to win and he could win at least as well as he did last time,” a former shadow cabinet minister said. Among constituency parties around Britain, the Labour leader won 285 nominations (nearly twice as many as he did in 2015). Smith had 53.

One recent afternoon in Milton Keynes, some of those helping to ensure Corbyn’s victory gathered to hear him speak. From the top of a fire engine, the Labour leader addressed a crowd of 1,500 outside the town’s railway station. The truck, provided by the Fire Brigades Union, is a permanent presence at Corbyn’s rallies. “All over the country, we’re getting a big turnout of people,” he told the crowd. “Some are party members [Labour is now the largest political organisation in western Europe]. Some are party supporters. Some come because they’re interested in politics for the first time, because they recognise that since a year ago, we are no longer the me-tooism of politics . . . A year ago, I’m sad to say that in parliament, the official Labour position was to abstain on the Welfare Reform Bill and the £12bn that was going to take from the poorest and most vulnerable in our society. No more is that the position. We want to defend and support those who are the most vulnerable in our society.”

Corbyn, jacketless and wearing a blue shirt, spoke for 35 minutes without notes. His audience listened raptly, frequently interrupting his rhetorical fusillades with cheers. “People were embarrassed to say they’re socialists before. They’re not now,” Gail Gallagher, a social worker, told me. The last Labour leader, Ed Miliband, “wasn’t up to it”, she said. “Too lightweight,” her husband, Neil, added.

Similar sentiments were expressed by John McGeechan, a 22-year-old postgraduate student who joined Labour after “self-indulgent, self-serving MPs initiated their corridor coup”. Of Owen Smith, who is running on a platform to the left of Miliband’s, he said: “He’s just another mealy-mouthed careerist who says whatever he thinks is going to get him elected. I don’t believe at all that he means what he says about creating a radical socialist government given that he’s got the backing of Peter Mandelson, Alastair Campbell and Tony Blair, people who’ve disagreed with Corbyn on pretty much all his socialist policies. I don’t believe that he’s going to stand up to these people.”

Some of those present were hardened activists, distributing revolutionary news-sheets for the likes of Labour Party Marxists and Counterfire. But many were relative newcomers to Labour, inspired to join by Corbyn’s unashamed moralism.

When the leader told the crowd that he wouldn’t read out all ten of his campaign pledges because “you don’t want to be here ’til sunset” some cried out, “We do!” (This prompted derisive social media comparisons with the followers in Monty Python’s Life of Brian: “Speak to us, Master! Speak to us!”) Corbyn later proudly tweeted that the rally was “the largest ever political meeting in the town’s history”, 49 years on from its foundation.

The host constituency (Milton Keynes North) is held by the Conservatives with a majority of 9,753 votes. In his stump speech, Corbyn alluded to this. “This leadership campaign is about leadership of the party, yes, but it’s also about our campaigning abilities, to offer people something different, something alternative – a society that cares for all, not nourishes the wealth of a few. That’s why we’re going to gain seats here in Milton Keynes at the general election.” To win power, he emphasised in his closing words, “you have to offer something very, very different”.

***

Labour MPs agree that Corbyn is doing that. But the consequence, they fear, is electoral apocalypse. Corbyn’s personal poll ratings are the lowest of any opposition leader in history. “If Jeremy Corbyn wins [the leadership election], I think we face meltdown,” the Ilford South MP, Mike Gapes, told me. “I can’t see any circumstances in which he can win a general election. We could go down to 150 MPs or even less [Labour has 230]. That’s without the boundary changes. If there isn’t an early general election and Corbyn is still there in 2020, we’ll get wiped out.”

At a meeting of Corbyn’s own constituency party, Islington North, on 10 August, his former policy director Neale Coleman, who is now supporting Owen Smith, warned that “with Jeremy as leader, we would be ­defeated to the same level as in 1931” – when the party won just 52 seats.

It was such dystopian visions, and anguish over the EU referendum defeat, that led 172 Labour MPs to support a no confidence motion in Corbyn and 65 shadow ministers to resign. Few believe that the schism in Labour can be repaired. If Corbyn is re-elected, most MPs will continue to refuse to serve on the front bench, leaving him incapable of forming a full team. “We’ve crossed the Rubicon: there’s no going back,” Wes Streeting, one of the 2015 intake, told me. “This is irreparable while Jeremy remains leader.”

Such judgements lead some commentators to argue that a split is both inevitable and desirable. Conditions now, they say, are far worse than those faced by Labour MPs in the 1980s (when 28 joined the breakaway Social Democratic Party). The left today controls the leadership and not just the constituencies; it retains the support of most of the trade unions; a “one member, one vote” system has replaced the electoral college, to which the deputy leader, Tom Watson, wishes to return. Rather than persist with the unhappiest marriage in politics, Labour MPs and left activists – so the argument runs – should go their separate ways.

Advocates of a new centre-left party cite an increasingly promiscuous electorate, the Brexit-opposed “48 per cent” and a pool of willing donors. But it is not an option that Corbyn’s opponents intend to pursue. Labour's tribalists have no intention of leaving their party. The more tactically minded see little potential for a new grouping to flourish. A crowded electoral marketplace, the resilience of the Labour brand, the rebels' own divisions and Theresa May's economic interventionism all limit the space to occupy. 

Others fear a lack of “big beasts” to lead a breakaway. “It would need a very strong, credible leader to lead people through such an incredibly radical moment,” Peter Kyle, the MP for Hove and Portslade, said. “The SDP had Roy Jenkins, it had Shirley Williams: very big, towering political figures with intellect and experience in government. That’s the kind of thing that you’d be looking for if you were going to take one of the radical options.”

He added: “There’s a lot of talk about whether the party will split. What it feels like to me is that the party has already split. It’s like one of those chasms you see in the Arctic. It starts very small at the top, a dusting of snow covers it; but underneath is this enormous gap, and when somebody steps on it you fall through. The little dusting of snow at the top, which is holding it together, is Tom Watson and Iain McNicol [Labour’s general secretary]. But underneath them is this yawning gap that any time could rupture. I think that has already happened. The question is whether we can put it back together again, or whether it will just snap.”

***

 

If Corbyn is re-elected, another struggle for supremacy will begin. His allies want to replace both Watson, who was elected deputy leader last year, and McNicol, who has been general secretary since 2011. The former, who is from the party’s old right, outraged Corbynites when on 9 August he warned of “Trotsky entryists” who were “twisting young arms”. “I voted for Tom Watson!” Gail Gallagher said angrily, in Milton Keynes. “What a snake.”

Corbyn’s allies accuse McNicol of aiding the attempt by members of the National Executive Committee to prevent his automatic inclusion on the ballot and of tacitly supporting Smith’s campaign. The leader’s team alleges that Smith had early access to members’ email addresses and was given advance sight of the questions for the first hustings in Cardiff on 4 August. They are further aggrieved by McNicol’s successful court appeal against the inclusion in the contest of 130,000 people registered as Labour members since January.

After much discussion of the party’s “woman problem” following Angela Eagle’s failed leadership bid and the selection of an all-male roster of mayoral candidates, allies of Corbyn joke that replacing McNicol with a woman would “kill two birds with one stone”. Jennie Formby, an NEC member and former political director of the Unite mega-union (who has a child with Len McCluskey, Unite’s general secretary), is touted as a possible successor (Unite sources emphasise that she is not interested in the post).

Control of the party bureaucracy is regarded as essential to completion of Corbyn’s internal revolution. The leader’s office has long believed that Labour staffers are working to rule, at best, and plotting sedition at worst. But Corbyn’s opponents say that he lacks the support required to remove the general secretary. The GMB union, which endorsed Smith and of which McNicol is a former political officer, is among the reputed majority on the NEC for Owen Smith. But a Corbyn source warned: “McNicol has pissed off a lot of [trade union] general secretaries. The GMB alone won’t be enough to save him.”

As the party’s elected deputy leader, Watson cannot be removed without a challenge initiated by at least 50 MPs or MEPs – a threshold that cannot be achieved. But Corbyn’s allies float potential rule changes such as term limits or the introduction of an additional female deputy. In this way, Watson can be undermined. “If MPs like Jess Phillips and Caroline Flint want to propose that, the leadership will be behind them,” a source said.

The trade unions and Corbyn supporters in Momentum, the activist group launched after his leadership victory last year, are pushing for a remodelling closer to home. They speak of having “bailed out” the leader’s office after a succession of unforced errors over the past 11 months. The TSSA transport and travel union and the Communication Workers Union, which provide much of the campaign’s organisation and give it financial heft, are likely to demand additional personnel in Corbyn’s office. Sam Tarry, the TSSA’s national political officer, is tipped to make a full-time move to the leader’s spin operation to assist his communications director, Seumas Milne (the Guardian journalist whom even his opponents now regard as unsackable).

The overarching question remains how Corbyn operates with a parliamentary party that has declared no confidence in him. Watson has proposed the return of shadow cabinet elections, which were abolished by Ed Miliband in 2011. This would enable MPs to choose as many as 20 of their own number, to whom Corbyn would assign portfolios. “That would be one way for him of peacemaking,” a former shadow cabinet minister said. “If that were the case, I’d be prepared to put myself forward.”

However, a Corbyn source dismissed the idea. “It’s not going to happen,” he said: “they don’t have the numbers to get it through conference.” He added that the election of a representative for the Parliamentary Labour Party was a possibility.

He went on: “Jeremy is one of the most concessionary politicians around. He’d be very open to the idea of bringing people back, sitting down, listening to where things went wrong and where the input would be from the other side – seeing where there can be mutual ground.”

Corbyn’s team does not hesitate to warn that antagonistic MPs are putting themselves at risk of deselection by members. “The power’s there, we can’t stop it. We cannot say, ‘You cannot use the powers at your local CLP [Constituency Labour Party],’” a source said. “There’s no lever in the leader’s office for deselections. The issue is that there’s lot of party members who are very annoyed at their MPs for going against them, and now they find they have a voice that they never normally had.”

***

In Milton Keynes, the student activist John McGeechan rebuked Owen Smith for comparing Corbyn to an ­employer who tells staff to “work harder or I’m going to sack you all”. What the challenger didn’t understand, he said, “is that Corbyn’s not their employer: we are”. The debate that defined Labour’s struggles in the 1980s – whether MPs or activists should hold the whip hand – has been resurrected.

Although mandatory reselection was abolished by Neil Kinnock in 1990, MPs can be ousted if they lose the “trigger ballots” held automatically before a general election (from which open selections result). During a recent visit to Brighton, Corbyn said that he would not “interfere” in attempts to remove the local MP Peter Kyle. “What goes on in CLPs is part of a democratic process,” he stated.

“I think a lot of other people were shocked. I wasn’t shocked or surprised,” Kyle said. “What Jeremy does is, he stands passively by while bad things happen. When Ruth Smeeth [a Labour MP] was attacked at the launch of the anti-Semitism report [by Shami Chakrabarti] he sat quietly by and didn’t even open his mouth.”

Kyle added: “When Diane Abbott attacked Jo Cox for writing an article with [the former Conservative cabinet minister] Andrew Mitchell about international development, Jeremy Corbyn did not say a single word when he was asked at the PLP meeting whether his front bench should be attacking new-intake MPs. He didn’t even speak . . .

“Part of the responsibility of a leader is to proactively stop bad things from happening. For me, what Jeremy said when he was down in Brighton is part of the pattern I’ve seen from the start.”

MPs warn that a wave of deselections could lead to the formation of a breakaway parliamentary faction, as long advocated by the former Harold Wilson aide Joe Haines. "If people have got no seat and they know they're not going to be in the next parliament they've got nothing to lose," one said. Frank Field told me last year that any MP deselected should trigger an immediate by-election and stand as an “independent Labour” candidate.

Corbyn allies hope to achieve rule changes such as mandatory reselection and a reduced leadership nomination threshold (from 15 per cent of MPs/MEPs to 5 per cent) by 2017-18. The “full democratisation” of the party, as they describe it, would guarantee the presence of left-wing candidates in future contests. Corbynism would endure even if Jeremy Corbyn did not.

In private, Labour MPs are increasingly critical of Owen Smith’s campaign. The former shadow work and pensions secretary, who entered parliament in 2010, was chosen as a “clean skin”, untainted by the Blair years and the Iraq War. But the Welshman, who has worked as a lobbyist for Pfizer, has struggled to reconcile his past positions, such as support for private-sector involvement in the National Health Service, with his left-wing, Corbyn-style policy platform: railway renationalisation, a ban on zero-hour contracts, a full “living wage” and a wealth tax on the top 1 per cent of earners.

“The view was that you needed to do a soft-left candidacy to see if that would work,” a former shadow cabinet minister said. “But Smith’s message appears to be: ‘I’m the same as him but I’m more competent ; I look better in a suit.’ Or it’s a warmed-up Ed Milibandism, which was rejected by the voters.”

***

In a Morning Star article in 2003, Corbyn suggested that there should be “an annual election for leader”. His wish may now be granted as his opponents mount repeated challenges to his leadership.

“Moderates need to understand that it’s only through the registered supporters route that they’re going to be able to win back the party,” a former shadow cabinet minister said. “There are lots of people out there who want a credible, electable, centre-left proposition and we have not given them enough of a reason to sign up . . . The strategic problem with Owen’s candidacy is that it talks to the existing bubble. You can win 40-45 per cent with that, but you can only really win if you can bring in new people. Who has an offer and the charisma to be able to bring in new people? That has to be the question the next time round.”

Some point to the primaries in which the French president, François Hollande (backed by 1.6 million supporters), and the Italian prime minister, Matteo Renzi (1.9 million), won against more left-wing opponents as models to emulate. Another mentioned the United States: “Obama would never have won in 2008 with the existing Democratic membership and support base – it was owned by the Clintons. You’ve got to change it.”

Rebels say that another leadership challenge could be triggered early next year, in advance of a potential general election. But others believe that they should follow Thumper’s law: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

A senior MP argued that the PLP should “just shut up” and “let Jeremy crack on with it”. The imperative, he said, was to avoid MPs “taking the blame for us getting thumped in a snap election”.

Corbyn, some MPs fear, could even survive defeat in an early general election. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Jeremy will go easily,” Kyle said. “These people do not believe Jeremy is capable of making any mistake and the people we’re talking about here, in the last thirty to forty years, have never admitted to any mistake of any kind. If we lose a general election that the Jeremy Corbyn Facts website [set up by Corbyn’s team] has already written the script for what would come. They would blame it on the 172 [MPs]. They would blame it on the conspiratorial coup attempt . . .”

Both sides in Labour’s struggle cite history in their favour. Corbyn’s opponents highlight his record of rebellion against every leader since 1983. His supporters assert that it was New Labour and its legacy that led to the election defeats of 2010 and 2015. Both are now torn between those who advocate confrontation – further leadership challenges and deselections – and those who plead for co-operation.

“All MPs are going to have to accept that no one has a monopoly on grievance,” Clive Lewis, the shadow defence secretary and a Corbyn ally, told me. For his own constituents in Norwich, Lewis said, Labour’s imbroglio was like “a Dallas plot on speed”.

“They can’t keep up and they’ve lost interest,” he said. “It’s not even about electability: it’s about simply being relevant. We’re becoming an irrelevancy to people; we’re becoming a joke.”

There is one point on which Jeremy Corbyn and his most recalcitrant opponents converge: voters do not like divided parties. The risk for both – and, indeed, the future of the Labour Party – is that they will soon discover just how much.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 18 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn’s revenge

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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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