On the menu today: Elsewhere on NRO today, you’ll find the editors, Andrew Roberts, and Craig Shirley on the 80th anniversary of D-Day; James Lynch on the latest in the Hunter Biden trial; Jeff Blehar on the rise and fall of Ibram X. Kendi; and Kayla Bartsch on public noise and the rise of antisocial behavior in public spaces. But, given that recent editions of this newsletter have discussed heavy topics such as the unprecedented application of the law in the Trump verdict, the long-delayed authorization for the Ukrainians to use U.S. weapons to hit targets on Russian soil, Mexico’s presidential elections, and President Biden’s faltering memory, I find myself itching to discuss a lighter topic: the declaration that the new Star Wars series on Disney+ is “the gayest” of all offerings from that popular series.*
The ‘Gayest’ Star Wars?
Star Wars, at least as we Generation Xers knew it growing up, wasn’t that sexual.
Yes, Princess Leia wears a gold bikini for a stretch in Return of the Jedi. Yes, there’s a tremendously awkward kiss between Luke and Leia in the early part of The Empire Strikes Back, evidence that George Lucas was making it up as he went along and didn’t decide to make Luke and Leia long-lost siblings until after completing that film.
But by and large, Star Wars is — or was — an age-appropriate story for kids, a story of good and evil, wizards and pirates, lightsaber battles and spaceships zooming and bars full of exotic and strange aliens. Sure, in the original series, there’s sexual tension between Han Solo and Leia, but it’s largely implied — looks, pauses, the tone of their voices, the chemistry between Harrison Ford and the late Carrie Fisher. Sure, the vaguely phallic Jabba the Hutt has dancing girls in chains. Sure, the Sarlacc pit is basically a giant vagina dentata — er, where was I going with this?
Ah, yes, the star and creator of the latest Star Wars series on Disney+ have decided to assure us that The Acolyte is “the gayest” offering from the series so far:
“The Acolyte” star Amandla Stenberg is shocked over the observation that her show is the “gayest” Star Wars — but not for the reason you may be expecting.
“I think that Star Wars is so gay already,” Stenberg told TheWrap’s Drew Taylor in a recent interview. “I mean have you seen the ‘fits’? We’d be like ‘Look how gay this is’ and send each other reference photos.”
“Are you telling me, with a straight face, that C-3PO is straight?” series creator Leslye Headland asked.
“They’re a couple. That’s what I think,” Taylor said. That response prompted Headland to confidently declare that it’s “canon” R2-D2 is a lesbian.
The funny exchange began when Taylor said that “The Acolyte” is the “gayest” installment in the sci-fi franchise ”by a considerable margin.” After this assessment, Stenberg immediately started to vogue as Taylor asked Headland if she was excited about this element of the series becoming a “talking point” and if this was a “fun element” to bring to the series.
“No! I don’t think so. And yet people have told me that it’s the gayest Star Wars and I’m frankly . . .” Headland said, pausing for dramatic effect.
“You’re offended?” Stenberg asked.
“Into it,” Headland said.
This new “gayest” series is separate from 2015’s The Force Awakens, which led certain fans to insist that “the chemistry between Resistance hero Poe Dameron and the AWOL stormtrooper ‘Finn’ was undeniable.” (There was scant, if any, indication on-screen that either character was sexually interested in the other; you’ll notice a recurring impulse to label any depiction of male friendship as repressed homosexual desire.) It is separate from when one of the co-screenwriters of Solo assured fans in 2018 that Lando Calrissian was pansexual. It is separate from the conclusion of the Star Wars: Rebels series in 2018, which, in the eyes of some fans, implied that two male characters who had been mortal enemies had become lovers. And it is separate from the on-screen kiss between two women – very minor supporting characters — in 2019’s The Rise of Skywalker. This is separate from the 2021 series, Star Wars: The Bad Batch, which purportedly featured the series’ “first onscreen transgender character.” (Up until then, all of the clones of Jango Fett we had seen were male, but this new character was female.)
So, when the creators of this new series emphasize that it is “the gayest Star Wars,” there’s probably more competition for that title than you expected.
I wonder if all these people to whom Disney chooses to entrust the Star Wars series realize that the themes that interest and fascinate them may not be as interesting to the broader public.
Earlier this year, Forbes offered a jaw-dropping statistic:
Box office profits generated by Disney’s Star Wars movies have fallen $2.8 billion short of covering the media giant’s purchase of the sci-fi saga’s creator, Lucasfilm, according to analysis of recently-filed financial statements.
Disney bought Lucasfilm for $4 billion in 2012 and soon gave the green light to a new trilogy of Star Wars movies which teamed up rising stars Daisy Ridley and John Boyega with Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford and the late Carrie Fisher who headlined the original movies more than 30 years earlier.
The math is complicated, but the gist is that, while the Star Wars movies make a ton of money in ticket sales, they also cost a ton to make, and Disney spends a ton on marketing them, even though they have the best built-in audience imaginable. It adds up to a much thinner profit margin than the general public would expect, although Disney does make additional money through merchandising, theme parks, video games, etc.
That Forbes article notes that, over time, the Star Wars movies’ revenue has declined at the box office. In fact, we haven’t had a new Star Wars movie released in theaters since 2019, and the viewership for the television series appears to be declining over time, too. Last year I wrote that perhaps the increasingly frequent Disney+ shows were oversaturating the fanbase. Or perhaps Star Wars is best enjoyed on the big screen.
Hearing yet another cheerful declaration that the latest offering is “the gayest,” my reaction is that the modern creative class in Hollywood isn’t that creative. We keep getting told that a new character is a triumph for “representation,” and yet the overwhelming majority of those characters come and go with a yawn. Making a character gay or lesbian or trans or any other “identity” doesn’t make them inherently interesting or compelling.
In fact, I’d argue that when characters are created with “representation” in mind, they’re just about destined to be boring because they aren’t allowed to be too flawed. If, for example, you make your television series’ first and usually only gay character a kleptomaniac, someone out there will loudly complain that your series is portraying gays as kleptomaniacs. Any character who is offering “representation” must therefore be nice and safe and pleasant and unlikely to offend or bother any potential viewer. The characters become symbols, not evocations of a flesh-and-blood human being.
Perhaps the most fascinating and compelling characters in fiction are interesting because of their contradictions. The Sopranos and the Corleones from the Godfather movies are bad people, violent criminals, but they love their families. Rick Blaine, Dirty Harry, Sherlock Holmes — all have their flaws.
Also, most protagonists must change over the course of the story, and unless the story is a tragedy, the protagonist becomes a better person in some way. There’s a philosophy of fiction-writing that contends that, at the beginning of a story, your protagonist believes a lie about themselves, something like: “I can’t do it.” “I don’t have to care about other people.” “I can’t trust other people.” The character arc is how they go through experiences that challenge this belief: They usually have some sort of internal struggle and eventually change that belief, which leads to the character’s triumph in the third act. This means that your protagonist must be likeable enough at the outset for your audience to root for him (or her) but simultaneously have some significant flaw.
John McClane wasn’t a very supportive husband. Martin Riggs isn’t sure if he wants to go on with life after his wife dies. Clarice Starling isn’t sure she can cut it as an FBI agent. Kevin from Home Alone is something of a brat and thinks his life would be better if his family disappeared.
For a while, Marvel’s movies did this really well: Tony Stark was a self-absorbed, materialistic narcissist. Thor didn’t respect the power he had and was too eager to fight a war. Prince T’Challa loved his father but had to figure out how to be his own man and a different kind of king. Peter Parker needs to learn and keep relearning that with great power comes great responsibility. There’s always an internal journey that parallels the external journey of fighting the bad guys or searching for the treasure or whatever.
Modern screenwriters seem to be afraid to let their characters be flawed and in need of lessons or a correction at the beginning of the story. The result is a conveyor belt of generic sludge, written by people who are trying to tell stories about life based on exceptionally little life experience, with cardboard-cutout characters delivering monologues that sound like speech excerpts from the Democratic National Convention. So far, the movies of 2024 have largely flopped or underperformed. Such a mystery, isn’t it?
*I have to lay out the varied work of this newsletter and my writing at NR and the Post because a lot of people who don’t like my arguments will make the bad-faith demand, “Why are you so obsessed with this?” or “Why are you always writing about this topic?” In a typical week I’ll write five 1,500- to 2,000-word newsletters, at least five Corner posts, and a Post column. I write about a lot of things; your unfamiliarity with the breadth and depth of what I write about is your problem, not mine.
ADDENDUM: When you write about fiction and storytelling and character creation, you often get a response on the order of, “Well, if it’s so easy, why don’t you try it?” Except, you know . . . I have.