Considering the near-sacred status
some die-hards hold of the original Star
Wars Trilogy, one might wonder about the purpose of Star Wars Uncut, the recent brainchild of Casey Pugh and soon to be
succeeded by Empire Uncut.
Hundreds of fans submitted over a thousand recordings of reimagined
15-second segments in an attempt to “[reshape] George Lucas’s mythology to
satisfy their own fantasies and desires” (21).
Given that Lucas himself has met significant resistance in reshaping his
own vision of Star Wars in his
various Special Editions, a
collective reimagining by fans might seem transgressive. Why mess with a beloved text? Why not redo one of the lesser Star Wars prequels, each of which failed
to satisfy fans’ desires? The
explanation on the homepage of Star Wars
Uncut answers this question by shifting the emphasis of the project from
the text to the fan: “We cut the movie into 15 second clips; You claim a scene
and re-film it however you like; We all become famous in the best films ever.” Star
Wars has invited a participatory culture since its inception—merchandise
alone has allowed fans to inhabit roles, albeit in a “top-down,
corporate-driven” manner (18). Emerging
technologies, though (Star Wars Uncut being
a perfect end-product), allow the consumers “to bring the flow of media more
fully under their control and to interact with other consumers” (18).
Technologically speaking, a shift
in protocols made Star Wars Uncut
possible. The value of protocols,
according to Jenkins, is in recognizing the changes in production and
consumption of media (14). With regard
to Star Wars Uncut’s format—the DIY
web-based video—the following trend applies: “new media technologies have
lowered production and distribution costs, expanded the range of available
delivery channels, and enabled consumers to archive, annotate, appropriate, and
recirculate media content in powerful new ways” (17, 18). Production costs for the 15-second clips in Star Wars Uncut were as expensive or
inexpensive as each participant wanted them to be; the developers claim, “You
can re-create your scene however you want: live action, stop motion, flipbooks,
action figures…animated ASCII art, whatever!
The more creative, the better.”
Creativity is prized over budget.
The cost of distributing an uploaded home video was free. For those wondering why the film was split
into 15-second scenes, the protocols associated with the website dictated the
maximum length of high-quality video. From
the website FAQ: “Make sure your scene is under 200MB in size.” The implications of a small file size are
obvious—they either needed many people to make one (or a couple) of video(s) or
a few people to make many short videos.
As a testament to consumption’s
“collective process” (4), the former occurred.
Many people participated in Star
Wars Uncut, adding their own original take on individual scenes. The rules of the game were loose enough to
allow creativity, as mentioned, and tight enough to allow continuity: “Make
sure the beginning and end of your scene matches up closely to the
original. That way, the final piece will
be smoother than Jabba’s backside” (the results of which are debatable). Despite the inevitable alienating nature of
cut-to-cut scenes every fifteen seconds, Star
Wars Uncut surprisingly demonstrates a degree of humanity in its shots that
mirror the original film while also revealing the relationships of amateur
actors, whom at times are obviously family members. Several scenes intersperse when Luke eats a
meal with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. The
conversation turns to old Ben Kenobi:
Luke:
Well, I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him. He says that he
belongs to someone named Obi-Wan Kenobi. I thought he might have meant old Ben.
Do you know what he's talking about?
Uncle Owen:
Uh-uh.
Luke:
I wonder if he's related to Ben.
Uncle Owen:
That wizard is just a crazy old man. Now, tomorrow I want you to take that R2
unit to Anchorhead and have its memory erased. That'll be the end of it. It
belongs to us now.
Luke:
But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?
Uncle Owen:
He won't. I don't think he exists anymore. He died about the same time as your
father.
Luke:
He knew my father?
Uncle Owen:
I told you to forget it.
In the original Star Wars, the framing of the shot shows Luke in the rear, close to
his aunt, who is leaning in closely, concerned.
Uncle Owen is farther away but closer to the camera, detached from the
other two. He hands down commands, but
not from the head of the table; he lacks the authority of a father. The fan scenes, in contrast, change the
dynamic of this scene. This black-and-white
still shot shows a Luke who holds more control; equally spaced between his aunt
and uncle, he calls the shots.
This
still shot shows a female Luke, not with “Uncle” Owen but with “Father” Owen,
much more authoritative.
Lastly, this
still shot shows a culturally different interpretation of the meal scene. In much closer quarters than any other
version, this Luke cedes control to his uncle.
The subtle differences in the meal
scene (and even the very different shots before and after) underscore the “lives, relationships, memories,
fantasies, [and] desires” of the fans that filmed them (17). They are not trying to make a better Star Wars as much as they are trying to
show how Star Wars has made them
better, or at least how it has enriched their lives. Therein lies the difference between this
particular project and an individual fan reimagining (e.g., Gus Van Sant’s Psycho).
While some could mistake Star Wars
Uncut as an unnecessary and indulgent endeavor, those participating could
point to its diversity of content and presentation as a sign of its collective
intelligence; it tells one story while also telling many stories. The process (i.e., the convergence) is as
important as the product, for its “implications [of how] we learn, work,
participate in the political process, and connect with other people around the
world” (22, 23).
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