I recently read a article on Cinematical.com titled Lucas Didn’t Kill Han Solo Because of the ‘Star Wars’ Toys by Erik Davis. The short piece basically summarizes how producer Gary Kurtz split from George Lucas after the Star Wars imagineer changed the originally planned ending for the happier version we’re all so familiar with today: 

The original ending was supposed to include Luke walking off alone “like Clint Eastwood in the spaghetti westerns”, leaving a somewhat frazzled and grieving Leia to pick up the pieces and take on her new duties as queen. Kurtz disagreed with all of Lucas’ changes – including his insistence on putting in a second Death Star (because it’d be too similar to the original film, he thought), and, fed up, Kurtz and Lucas parted ways.

Davis’s blog ends with the question, “Do you think George Lucas 'sold out’ by changing Jedi, or was he just making smart business decisions?”

I mulled over this a few days, and after some consideration decided the idea of marketability versus artistic integrity would be an interesting topic to approach to several examples of popular media and creative entrepreneurs with this question: at what point does one lose artistic credibility if they choose to participate in marketing and commercializing their artistic product? 

To begin with, I think there are a few gradients of the artistic integrity versus marketing scale, and can be generalized to these four types: 

1. Those who outright refuse to market their creation. 
2. Those who take an existing canon and reinvent/create a new adaptation. 
3. Those who create a new canon and choose to market it for greater exposure or profit. 
4. Those who sacrifice artistic vision and taste for purely marketing choices. 

I’ll start with a famous cartoonist who I admire greatly, Bill Watterson. Watterson created the legendary series “Calvin and Hobbes,” which I grew up reading (and still do on occasion), and famously left the American cartooning industry after tiring of the constant pressure from publishers to merchandise his work. He felt that selling mugs, stickers and T-shirts with spiky-haired Calvin and orange-black-striped Hobbes slapped onto them cheapened the characters and their personalities. Even after his retirement on November 9, 1995, Watterson refuses to sign autographs or license his characters – a resolve I completely respect. 

In his absolute refusal to license the self-centered, smart alec Calvin and the sensible, proud Hobbes, Watterson essentially spat in the face of the modern capitalist system: he refused to market his creation, believing that his stance was the only way to maintain his integrity and ideals. His ideals were a direct and polar opposite response to Jim Davis’s approach to “Garfield,” a cartoon that at its popularity leaked out into so many marketing alleyways – television shows, T-shirts, stickers, bookmarks, movies, etc. – that now, during its decline, Davis’s cartoon is less of a cartoon and more of a marketing logo. 

Watteron’s resolve to maintain artistic integrity never ceases to amaze me – the paneling and wit of his cartoons have been timeless ever since I started reading them over ten years ago (click on the picture for the full comic)

I believe Watterson’s front against marketing is what makes “Calvin and Hobbes” so much more appealing than most products. Yes, we all would like a stuffed animal of Hobbes, or a mug of Calvin and his shenanigans, but if it’s against the creators wishes isn’t it completely counterintuitive and disrespectful to go against so? Additionally, the lack of marketing and consumerist product added a sort of purity to the canon, that Watterson wasn’t selling out at all despite pressure from publishers and continued to cartoon out hilarity, wit and philosophy for the sake of integrity and quality. If anything, Watterson is the prime and rare example of a artist who fits the description of category one; the unfortunate reality, though, is that Watterson’s idealism would likely kill the potential of any creative project from taking off and finding an audience in today’s economic conditions: marketing is almost inevitable, and I’ve yet to see any widespread artistic property that doesn’t have any sort of commercialism attached to it. 

Then you have those who take an existing canon and adapt it into a newer story that resonates more soundly with the current generation. With numerous remakes flooding the Hollywood blockbuster market – Hulk, James Bond, Star Trek, Iron Man – Christopher Nolan’s take on the Batman universe is arguably the prime zeitgeist of them all. Dark, brooding, and full of implications that echo of pre- and post-September 11th sentiments and increasing suspicions of political and corporate authorities, Nolan’s revamp of Batman in 2005 and 2008 essentially made him the Godfather of superhero lore in movies (he’s even been commissioned to oversee the upcoming Superman project by Warner Bros). 

Adapting an existing canon puts you in an interesting position because regardless of your creative vision, the final product is still prone to marketing which is beyond your control. What matters here is how you reimagine the adaptation, and what elements you want to keep or discard while attempting to appeal to a certain demographic that includes fans of the canon and (potentially) those who would be interested regardless of the canon’s universe. In Christopher Nolan’s case, he successfully appealed to a wide demographic that includes Batman fans and those simply want to enjoy a popular and good film (The Dark Knight is an excellent example of films that are commercially and/or critically successfully, which I previously discussed here; interestingly enough, Nolan’s success with his second Batman installment established another demographic – Nolan fans). 

Nolan’s adaptations are significantly darker and less cheerful than Tim Burton’s famous films, Batman in 1989 and Batman Returns in 1992. Burton’s films were highly popular at the time, critically and commercially successful during their theater runs. Some Burton fans were thrown off by Nolan’s take on the Batman lore; some even felt that Nolan celebrated moral depravity, lamenting that the current generation had become too pessimistic and disillusioned. Personally, I prefer Nolan’s aesthetic over Burton’s, but this is simply a matter of tastes: Heath Ledger even said that he would’ve outright refused to taken the part of the Joker if had Nolan envisioned the character along the same vein of Jack Nicholson’s famous interpretation (between the two, I believe Ledger’s performance was tenfold more haunting, disturbing, and memorable – a definite movie icon for decades to come, I’m sure). 

Then there are those who completely throw out all artistic integrity in order to squeeze out every drop of marketing potential they can. If you haven’t already guessed, I’m referring specifically to Joel Schumacher, director of the horrendous 1997 film Batman & Robin.

Remember the Batsuit nipples? How about those awesome Mr. Freeze lines? Or the tight rubber suits with molded muscles? And let’s not forget those awesome toys you could get with your McDonald’s happy meals, or how Six Flags debuted roller coasters themed to Schumacher’s film! (Let’s be fair – Alicia Silverstone in tight Batgirl leather was probably the best aspect of the entire movie). 

If anything, Schumacher effectively killed the Batman franchise until Nolan’s breath-of-fresh-air revival in 2005 eight years later. Schumacher himself has admitted that the film was made with the intention kid-friendly marketability, stating that he was under heavy pressure from Warner Bros to do so. Regardless, Schumacher still did it, and at least has the dignity to take full responsibility for his directorial decisions. 

Cases like Batman & Robin really present major questions as to how far one relinquishes taste in lieu of product marketing. Schumacher’s film is an extreme example of the marketing versus integrity argument, but nevertheless an important one to consider: would the film have been better if he didn’t try to create something that had so many gimmicks or accessories that are otherwise superfluous, useless, and tasteless? I believe yes – marginally so, but very possibly yes: Schumacher’s film could have been much better if he didn’t throw away cinematic vision and taste in pursuit of creating a toyetic product. More important, though, is how this decision affected his reputation: a majority of his post-Batman films have been received poorly in the critical circles (though I did enjoy the thrill ride of Phone Booth in 2003), and some have even subtly spoofed Schumacher’s infamous Batman film. Schumacher’s Batman & Robin is a worst-case scenario when someone completely gives up tastes in favor of marketability – in which case the film will likely fail critically, and very possibly tarnish the reputation of the person responsible. 

So now we come all the way back to George Lucas, the pinnacle of the marketing versus integrity debate. He essentially helped create the Hollywood blockbuster; adjusting for inflation, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope is still number one in the United States since 1977 – the same year of its release. 

Star Wars was an incredible hit. From there, Lucas created two more films, though these sequels were nowhere near as jawdroppingly awing compared to the premiere of the film that started it all. While most critics and fans were equally (if not more) astounded and exhilarated with the second installment, The Empire Strikes Back, they were less so with the final arc of the original trilogy, Return of the Jedi – unsurprisingly, the most common criticism involved the Ewoks (Gene Siskel even expressed his dislike for the closing scenes that included the fluffy bouncy Ewoks, and numerous comedians have joked about the un-defeatable Death Star 2.0 being taken down by teddy bears). 

To backtrack a bit, George Lucas was heavily influenced by American mythologist, writer and lecturer Joseph Campbell, who’s most famous work is probably The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Lucas was the first Hollywood filmmaker to credit Campbell’s influence, deriving the famous Star Wars characters and plot structures from classic archetypes and narratives (i.e. Han Solo is the anti-hero; Luke Skywalker’s entry into the tavern is the hero’s first step into something less innocent before progressing upon his journey; Darth Vader’s famous “Luke, I am your father” scene is the classic forces of evil appealing to forces of good). Arguably, Lucas’s first three films were incredibly successful commercially and critically because he adhered so closely to classic motifs of storytelling that have gone back from thousands of years. 

So what happened with the third movie? It’s well known that oftentimes, the third part of a trilogy rarely outshines or delivers on the same level as the first (or even second) films. In Lucas’s case with the first three Star Wars films, The Return of the Jedi’s somewhat disappointing (but not unsuccessful) premiere highlighted a major question of artistic integrity versus business strategy – in changing the story and ending of episode VI, did he sell out? Was it a smart business move? Or did Lucas simply want a happier ending that simply didn’t satisfy the palate of his viewers? 

I believe there are three possible scenarios that led to his decision: 

1. Lucas felt a happier ending was more appropriate simply from a narrative standpoint, regardless of how the Star Wars franchise and market was doing worldwide. 
2. Upon seeing how popular Han Solo was, Lucas changed the story from its original, darker version to the one we’re all familiar with now, hoping that his decision would please (rather than upset) fans. 
3. Based on how high toy sales were, Lucas changed the story to appease what he believed his fans wanted – that all the principle characters be alive. 

The first scenario is simply a creative motivation, in which case I disagree with Lucas’s decision but still respect his resignation to artistic integrity. The second and third scenarios are similar, but slightly different in one distinct way: the second scenario is a measure of popular opinion that may or may not include toy sales (i.e. polls of favorite characters in the Star Wars universe) while the third scenario is a direct measure of popular opinion based directly off of toy sales. 

If the second case is true, then I’m less inclined to respect Lucas’s decision, but not to the extent of calling him a sell-out. However, if the third scenario is what actually happened, then yes – I believe George Lucas sold out. If making “smart business decisions” leads you to completely change your story, you have invariably skewed in favor of marketing over artistic integrity: what matters to critical and commercial reception is the final product, not the process, and if Lucas felt that changing the narrative of Star Wars was appropriate based off toy sales, then he invariably sold out regardless of his intention. 

We’ll probably never quite know what went through George Lucas’s mind when he decided to rewrite Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi. And with the release of more recent prequels starring Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman, disappointed fans have casted their frustrations at the director in a recent documentary titled The People vs. George Lucas, and Skywalker enterprises might be responding with their own documentary to defend the namesake. Whatever the reasons or reactions or fandoms, Lucas has demonstrated one of the trickier aspects of creative endeavors on the large scale – of balancing artistic integrity in lie of pragmatic marketing economics. 

My love for you is like a lovely river of loving, love! (click on the picture for the full comic by Scott Rasoomair)

Recommended Reading, Articles and Links: 

• Superheroes for Sale – David Bordwell on recent adaptations of superhero canons (specifically regarding Nolan’s approach to the Batman universe)

• Stop, Nolan, Stop! – James Berardinelli’s commentary on the curse of third film disappointments in trilogies

• Great Movies: Star Wars Episode IV, A New Hope – by Roger Ebert

• The People vs. George Lucas – Gerardo Valero’s commentary on the whole business of disgruntled Star Wars fans and implications for George Lucas

• Gritty Superhero Reboot – Spoof by CollegeHumor on recent Hollywood reboots of franchises

• The Power of Myth – A PBS documentary comprised of six one-hour long conversations between Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers. Five of the six episodes were filmed on Skywalker ranch, and Campbell comments on numerous Star Wars clips