When Walt Disney executives refused to release new Star Wars: Episode VII details during last weekend’s D23 conference, millions of (fan) voices suddenly cried out in terror.
In the audience, there were boos and moans of disappointment; on social sites like Twitter, there was an outpouring of indignant rage.
“How are they not even announcing the title of Episode VII? Why isn’t JJ on stage right now? So lame,” one tweeter huffed. Another quipped that “Disney proves they understand the modern Star Wars fan by disappointing them and taking their money.”
Now hold on a minute. Is this just pent-up anticipation, or has the D23 reaction from Star Wars fans crossed a line into something more like “entitlement”? The most outraged complaints seem to assume not only that Disney has an obligation to release new Episode VII details whenever we expect them, but that failing to do so somehow bodes poorly for the quality of the final film.
The past several decades of geek/fan cultural ascendancy (spurred in no small part by Star Wars fandom) have surely contributed to this response. Expectations for constant streams of pre-release news are at all time highs — thanks not just to Hollywood but the gaming and tech industries, too.
Between online scoops and the ever-expanding conference/convention circuit, fans of any franchise are now immersed in a relentless deluge of leaked info, staged announcements, teaser trailers, teaser trailers about the making of the teaser trailers, rock star appearances by directors, actors, studio executives, and second unit assistant gaffers to explain the teaser trailers — and on and on and on.
At this point, when a major company working on a major project holds a major conference, we expect to hear details, period. And thus Disney’s decision not to tease fans with new info two years before Episode VII‘s release is no longer seen as one of several valid marketing choices — it’s an outrageous violation of the norms of geek culture.
But the intensity of fan expectations is surprising given that Episode VII’s director is J.J. Abrams, a filmmaker who delivers consistently good geek fare at the price of extreme pre-release secrecy. Through a long line of blockbusters, up to and including this year’s Star Trek: Into Darkness, Abrams has played his cards close to his chest — so much so that one of his movies hit theaters with its secret production name still intact (Cloverfield).
Why do we expect J.J. to suddenly open the gates for Star Wars? His own recent comments offer a pretty reasonable rebuke of fan complaints:
Every choice we make, every costume fitting, every pad of makeup, every set that’s built — all that stuff becomes less magical if it’s discussed and revealed and pictures are posted online. I just want to make sure that when somebody sees something in a movie they didn’t watch a 60-minute behind-the-scene that came out two months before.
And yet, there’s a case to be made that Star Wars fans deserve more. Millions feel some small bit of “ownership” over this massive cultural touchstone, from living and breathing the original trilogy, to devouring every associated book, toy, game or spinoff (no matter how good or awful), to churning out their own Star Wars-inspired creations. Many fans approach Episode VII not just as a film to be consumed, but as a production that they themselves are a part of.
In response to this, Lucasfilm president (and now Disney employee) Kathleen Kennedy has gone out of her way to declare her commitment to Star Wars fandom. In an interview earlier this year, she commented on the inevitable Episode VII production leaks:
…you need to embrace that, especially with the fans around something like Star Wars. You need to recognize they’re important to the process and acknowledge there are things you’re gonna want to make sure they get to know.
Maybe last weekend’s conference shows that Disney still has a different idea than fans about what we should “get to know.” Or maybe such statements have just set fan expectations too high, too fast. But when it comes to Episode VII, I think there’s one thing for which even the most die-hard Star Wars fanatics would happily sacrifice all the pre-release fan love in the world: a really good movie.
Which brings me back to that other strange assumption in the fan reaction to D23’s non-news: Why is Disney’s refusal to share details now a bad omen for the quality of the final film?
Some fans seem to see this is proof that the studio just doesn’t understand the nature of the franchise. “Disney already showing ignorance!” declared a friend on Facebook in response to D23 – implying that this ignorance will be reflected not only in their unwillingness to tease us now, but in the form of the final film.
But there’s no indication that the level of pre-release fan engagement impacts a movie’s ultimate quality. Snakes on a Plane was still a stinker even after it was re-cut to meet popular demands; the Star Trek reboots have been a rousing success, despite die-hard Trekkies knowing virtually nothing before release.
And couldn’t Disney’s refusal to share actually mean they understand Star Wars fans all too well? After all, George Lucas released a steady drumbeat (often more like a deafening blast) of details in the run-up to the prequels. The fan reaction, especially after Episode I, was predictable.
When leaked info seemed odd or off-key — Episode II’s title will be the not-at-all-goofy Attack of the Clones! — this was just confirmation that the next film would disappoint. When the leaks confirmed fan hopes — Boba Fett will be in this one! — fans immediately began creating our own fantasies for how things would play out onscreen, only to be let down on opening day.
In a post-prequel world, sharing fewer Episode VII details might actually be healthy for both Disney and the fan community. For the studio, the risks of sharing are high, and the rewards almost nil. Each new pre-release announcement is a chance to strike a sour note with die-hard fans, but more news can hardly drive more people to the theaters — a new Star Wars film is already guaranteed a record-breaking opening weekend, even if it’s titled Episode VII: Steaming Pile of Bantha Fodder.
As for the fans, less info means less obligation to hyperventilate over every new snippet of detail. Just look at the storm that was unleashed when Kennedy said Episode VII would rely less on digital effects than the prequels. Does this mean the film will be great, or is it just lip service to original trilogy purists? Does it suggest that Disney understands the soul of Star Wars, or is it missing some more important point? Why aren’t they just making the exact movie that each of us wants to see?
If those kinds of comments send our blood pressure soaring, then announcements about casting, locations, titles or key plot points will start to fill emergency rooms. Before we berate Disney, maybe we should ask ourselves: Do we really want to take another two year ride on the emotional rollercoaster of Star Wars pre-release details? Why, in the end, are we so desperate to know?
Personally, I’d rather not endure that for a film over which I will have zero to no creative control. I’d rather sit back back and relax, totally in the dark for the next 24 months — and hope that in the dark of a packed theater on opening night, I discover that Disney’s made a damn good Star Wars movie.
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Bryan Collinsworth writes (occasionally) about politics, pop culture and their more interesting intersections. He lives in New York and works in nonprofits and new media by day. You can follow him on Twitter as @bbcollinsworth .
Header art by alerkina2.