A guy sells something for four billion dollars and it’s difficult to have much compassion for him even if he isn’t an asshole, let alone when he bemoans the reality of what he certainly must have seen coming. I sold Star Wars to a rabid, insatiable rodent, so what exactly did I expect? Did I honestly think that they’d follow my creative vision when they gave me four billion dollars specifically so they wouldn’t have to?
Believe it or not, I did. That’s just the kind of narcissistic, egomaniac that I am. After all, if Star Wars is a religion (which it most certainly is), I’m the Holy Trinity. When they made The Passion of the Christ, did they shut you out of the creative process? Or just toss the entire bible out the window? Of course not.
The Rise of Skywalker is credited to J.J. Abrams, but it was actually created in a boardroom based on whatever was trending on Twitter and YouTube. A fan is unhappy Rey is CIS? Make her a lesbian. PETA is pissed that Chewbacca is kept in a filthy kennel? Get him a suite at the Ritz-Carlton. Not enough black people? Bring Lando back from the dead.
The entire trilogy is an attempt at art by committee, and it doesn’t work. I may write terrible dialogue and suck as a director, but at least I had a singular vision, and you can see that in the prequels. Regardless of how badly they were executed, they were at least about something, and the new ones aren’t. They’re just a bunch of character arcs and plot threads that go absolutely nowhere.
Fortunately, for whatever I lack in technical prowess, I make up for in fiduciary shrewdness. There was a time when I delivered entertaining blockbusters and massive toy sales, and I can do it again. I bet I can buy back Star Wars (including Baby Yoda) for a quarter of what I sold it for once the mouse is done shitting on it.
Still, I realize now that I have to learn how to work better with people. How did you guys handle it when you had creative differences over The Ten Commandments, The Devil’s Advocate, etc? You’ve survived in showbusiness for a long time, and I respect that. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Your Fellow Deity and Equal in Every Way,
I regret we were unable to match Disney’s bid for Lucasfilm, but 3.75 billion was all we could come up with. Honestly, that should have been enough. What’s another quarter billion to a guy who barely leaves his compound and eats peanut butter and jelly for lunch every day? If you had been just slightly less greedy, you could have had your cake and eaten it, too. Not only would we have used your story ideas for the sequels, but we would also have given you 100% of the toy sales. Also, instead of the drab Mandalorian, we could have done that Adventures of Jar Jar TV series you’ve always been clamoring on about. It would have been epic. The most important thing, though, is we wouldn’t have hired uninspired hacks like J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson to direct. We would have gotten Spielberg for all three. He said no when you asked him to direct the prequels, and he said no to Disney, but he definitely wouldn’t have said no to us. Let’s just say he owes Satan a favor.
You brought up The Passion of the Christ. The truth is, Gibson ignored the only note we gave him at the pitch meeting. We had two people in mind to play Me—Eddie Murphy and Bernie Mac—and Gibson didn’t even bring either guy in to read. Well, the world may have missed out, but at least Bernie is up here in Heaven now. He’s currently starring in the Heaven Broadway production of Jesus Christ Superstar, and he’s absolutely brilliant.
As far as The Ten Commandments and The Devil’s Advocate go, we had very little to do with those. They just had us put our names on the projects for marketing purposes. I’ve ghostwritten several screenplays for embarrassingly bad movies (Gone in 60 Seconds, Mrs. and Mrs. Smith, Tomb Raider—most of Angelina Jolie’s big flops), but for the most part, I’ve stayed away from writing and directing and stuck with executive producing. That way I get to take credit for movies without having to do any of the real work. The cold hard truth is, I’m just not much of a filmmaker. I was a human for 33 years, but I’ve been a celestial being for eons, which is why I have so much trouble writing relatable stories and naturalistic dialogue. Satan, meanwhile, has never been human, which is why every character he’s written is basically Nicholas Cage in Ghost Rider. You get it. You have the same problems. Anyway, my advice to you is to just let it go. Swim around in your pile of money like Scrooge McDuck, eat your PB&J, and forget all about this Star Wars nonsense. You had a good run. Enjoy your retirement.
You know, I’m thinking about selling Heaven to Disney. If I do, maybe we can hang out. I’ve always wanted to see Skywalker Ranch. Seth Green tells me it’s awesome.
Dear George Lucas,
I don’t know what the Hell Jesus is talking about; Ghost Rider is a work of art. Anyway, all is not lost for the Star Wars franchise. As Disney’s top lawyer, I have an in with those guys. So far, they’ve ignored my calls regarding a Divine Reboot of the sequels, but they can’t blow me off forever. Eventually, Bob Iger will die and join me in Hell. If I have to make it part of his torture to make movies for me, I will, but hopefully, it won’t come to that. Hopefully, he’ll see my genius scripts for what they are: pure genius.
What is a Divine Reboot, you ask? That’s where we erase the memories of every human on Earth and destroy all traces of the J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson abominations as though they never existed and then remake the sequels according to my master plan. There are some details we’ll still have to work out (Carrie Fisher will have to be resurrected, for one thing) but we’ll figure it out.
You’re probably wondering how you might fit into this plan of mine. Well, I was thinking you could play the ghost of Jabba the Hutt. Jesus was right about one thing: you’re no good behind the camera, and I say it’s high time you tried your hand at acting. I’ve been writing this part with you in mind, so it should be a perfect fit. Don’t say no until you’ve read my script. Incidentally, if you say no after you’ve read my script, I will probably cram cobras up your rectum.
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to firstname.lastname@example.org, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.