There's myth and legend. And it continues to grow. There's always some new guy with a story to tell about The Making of Star Wars. Here comes one anonymous fake source now:
When George came over to show me the script, it was just this handwritten copy. And just as he was handing it to me, he barfed all over it. He just blew chunks. He said it was something he ate. But just before that awful mess, I saw the title page and it said, Starlight Warrior. The original, original title of Star Wars was Starlight Warrior. But Georg had puked up on it and most of the letters were all wet and gross and all you could read was Star War. Which become Star Wars. True Story.
From what George had told me before he came over to show me that first draft of the script was that it was going to be a story of a small-town girl who leaves her farm to move to the big city to become a movie star. It was going to be a total glam-rock take on All About Eve with David Bowie as Margo.
But when George hurled on that script, he got depressed and so we hung out and got high. And I put on The Wizard of Oz. And the image of Dorothy evolved into Luke. Obi-Wan was born from the Wizard. And Han, Chewbacca and C-3PO were somewhat like the Scarecrow, the Lion and the Tin Man. And R2 was the Munchkins. Remember, we were pretty stoned. Later, The Emperor became the Wicked Witch.
And that's what great about Star Wars. It's mysterious. Luke Skywalker and Dorothy Gale, who knew?
So when some assholes came along and tried to apply Science to it, Star Wars got all fucked up. How do lightsabers work? How far is the Kessel Run?
What is The Force?
And that, for every single person who loves Star Wars is the biggest fuck-up. Have you read about midi-chlorians? What the fuck are those? Microscopic symbionts that detect the Force? Fuck you, George Lucas!
When I saw Star Wars, and more so, The Empire Strikes Back, I wanted to have access to the Force. And I sometimes convinced myself that it was out there for me to find, and control. To mow the lawn. If I could just get that mower to cut the grass by itself while being propelled by the Force, my life would be awesome, I dreamed.
But then everyone wanted Answers. Or maybe George Lucas felt he had to provide answers, but either way, all this cool shit that seemed like magic in the Star Wars universe got kicked in the ass by Science.
So now we know exactly how dense your cells need to be with midi-chlorians before you can even hope to get the lawn cut, let alone pull a Jedi mind trick and get someone to sleep with you. It's 16,000.
So all you writers and creators, try to remember that when you create a world and fill it with characters, leave a little magic behind for the rest of us, and let us wonder.