hollywood system: art

Star Wars.

George Lucas was sipping a cold chocolate drink, topped with foam, chocolate syrup, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. His beard caught some of the sweetness as it touched his lips, and he could almost feel every taste bud sigh with delight from the flavor.

–Mr. Carson just arrived on the property.–

–Then I hope they let him in. Bring him some water and maybe a few cookies. I'm not sure what the kid likes, but last time I saw him eating chocolate muffins... do we have any?– asked Lucas, who had no idea where those muffins came from.

–Yes, Mr. Lucas, I'll check the pantry.– came the reply over the line. The old Lucas nodded calmly, the palm trees and the house's surroundings looking more like a resort than the headquarters of a visual effects, video game, and film production company, though calling it a "film production" studio was a bit of a stretch. Its true identity lived in places like the costume workshop and model-building warehouse they called "The Sanctuary."

"What now? What will I sell next?" "What now, when life is leading me somewhere I want to go?" he wondered, staring at a color-coded map in front of him, designed as if meant to chart a plan. Red yarn pinned across several diagrams gave the whole thing a conspiratorial air. Drawings, photos—Lucas took another sip, heavy with the gravity of the fantasy that was now his reality.

Billy entered through the door, his patent leather shoes shining, his sharp black suit offset by a bold red tie. He always avoided pairing it with a white pocket square. The young man smiled, though he couldn't help but glance at the infamous Star Wars expanded universe—four thousand years of fictional history, where stories often hinged on either enormous blunders or the cunning missteps of five or six individuals. Every banner seemed to dance in its rhythm, spinning tales of business developments that might seem like dust, yet somehow told a story. Billions of dollars. Stories had become an essential commodity, nearly indispensable to the industry.

–Lucas, it's good to see you. I've been spending the last few days watching our films.– said Billy, who knew from reliable sources that Lucas held some voting power for the Oscars, not because he wanted to vote, but because he had too many friends in all the right places. So man, that it seemed he commanded an entire front of allies—at least fifteen strong—including retired producers, old-school Jewish gang actors, major new directors, and other Hollywood heavyweights. The vote counts varied, but in certain categories, a few people made all the difference.

In categories like Sound, Costume, Visual Effects, Original Song, Cinematography, and Lighting—those so-called "minor" awards—two things stood out: they were crucial and often overlooked by the mainstream audience. While Best Actor, Director, Screenplay, or Picture got all the headlines, most couldn't even name a recent winner in Sound or Costume Design. Maybe Songs were different—music often being the scent of the soul. Ever since Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, soundtrack mastery has become iconic. And yet, even legendary composers sometimes never won, despite creating works that outlived generations.

–Today's the day. I've got everything prepared. Let's sign the pre-agreement and let the lawyers handle the rest when they get a chance.– said George Lucas.

–I'm glad to hear that. I've been waiting almost twenty months for you to let me buy the stake I've been after for so long.– Billy replied.

–Then it's a great thing that we can be close now. It's been nearly twenty months, and I still want to see if what you said about building wealth through my Star Wars series turns out to be true. Now you call it a franchise, treat it like some kind of chessboard filled with calculated moves. Inside your head, you spin timelines and hire ghostwriters, animators, screenwriters, and countless fans who help shape the series. With the right care, these stories become profitable. You create something I couldn't do alone. Sometimes, creation isn't so easy.–

For a long time, he'd been stuck in what they called a thinking error—always cautious, never considering the idea of building a world so thoroughly structured.

–I heard a rumor you bought Marvel.– Lucas said. –My instincts tell me you plan to do the same with Marvel, but this time with such a detailed system that, in a few years, two franchises will completely dominate the industry.–

–That's the plan. But it's expensive. We need talent, raw stories, heartfelt narratives—no comedies. Comedy ruins series... tough guys, they're what anchors a good movie. When the stories lean into bolder ideas, that's where the magic happens. We need kid-friendly commerce, adult-level commerce—everything united. Deep stories, standalone films, all coming together in a final crossover movie. At least twelve years of content, compressed into timelines. Star Wars is the same, but different.– answered Billy.

Lucas nodded as he handed over a contract—a payment pre-agreement. The trick with a pre-agreement was that it only outlined the price, the payment, and the timeline. All other terms would be sorted out later by lawyers and managers. Billy would review everything in due time, but everyone involved had already agreed in principle.

–$990 million for 45%.– Billy exclaimed. –You're disgustingly rich, and at this rate, we'll both be buried in this thing by next year.–

–I sold cheap. We've got debt.– Lucas said, laughing.

–I knew it. But it's corporate debt. And you still hold the majority stake.– Billy added.

–Then let's hope that in the coming months, all our plans come together.– Lucas replied.

The answers were already taking shape. Lucas had taken out a $300 million loan to improve his visual effects company, invested in his gaming firm, and even bought himself a lavish villa with a vineyard. The remaining funds had been spread across various types of stocks, carefully chosen to diversify and stabilize his portfolio.

–Well, then, let's make sure profits are distributed conservatively over the next few months.– Billy said.

Funny how mistakes can end up sheltering you, even fortifying you. These old Hollywood types—they never lose ground. They only win, always on their terms. This space doesn't play fair.

–A Clone Wars series, a feature film, two mini-series, and a second movie. That's our plan for the next few years. Everything launches in 2003.– said Lucas.

–The Darth Vader series, plus the animated one—they had some concerns about that one's content.– Billy noted.

–Ah, I'd forgotten.– Lucas said, just as the snacks arrived. He turned on the projector to review the storyboards for the second movie.

–So, you want to wait a bit…–

Lucas interrupted with two reasons: he wanted Natalie to be older, more adult… a bit more mature. Love scenes work better with older actresses—fewer ethical dilemmas.

–You know, launching three films is possible, officially speaking. But if we want to go darker, the leads should be older. And, of course, we need to give the rest of the team time. For example, Steven Spielberg just started working on Saving Private Ryan. Scheduling is key.– Lucas explained.

They always helped their friends.