One of the interesting side effects of Star Wars: The Last Jedi is watching fans approach to the material they love. I can respect people critiquing the material. What the creator did right and what they got wrong is a fine discussion. Art, being subjective, means your own personal interpretation and experience is the right one for you. But there are fans out there who thinks they – Disney, Rian Johnson, etc. – betrayed the fanbase. The implication being that Disney didn’t live up to the promises it made when it announced a continuation of the Star Wars story.
But here’s the thing. Disney absolutely delivered on its promise. The Last Jedi is undeniably a Star Wars movie. From lightsabers to the Millennium Falcon to Luke to Leia, The Last Jedi had all the identifying markers to signify a Star Wars movie. Disney delivered on its promise to the fans, but it didn’t deliver on a large number of fans expectations. The supposed ‘betrayal’ is that the movie differed from expectation. But betrayal means something different than not meeting expectations. Implied in the word betrayal is ownership. For the fanbase to be betrayed, it had to have some sort of stake, some ownership of Star Wars.
I hate to break the news to people, but the fans don’t own Star Wars. At one time, George Lucas did. For a lot of money, he sold it to Disney. Now, it’s the Mouse’s property to do with as they wish. Be it tell stories no one likes, creating characters solely as cash grabs, or hiding it all away never to be seen again. Star Wars, the mythos, the canon, all of the copyrighted material belong to Disney to take in whatever direction they want. When they create stories, they owe nothing to the fans. When an author creates a story, when a musician creates a song, when a painter puts oil on canvas, they all owe their fans zip, zero, nada, nothing1.
When fans say that the creator betrayed them, I see a sense of entitlement that saddens me. Ultimately, it is the very human need for control that creates this sense of entitlement. So much of life is chaotic, and art is an escape for many, many people, including me. Being a fan of Star Wars or A Song of Ice and Fire or the Kingkiller Chronicles is great, but the fan’s control over those stories ends with the purchase of the artist’s products. If someone creates fan fiction, their control ends at what they created. But even that is limited by copyright laws because the fan doesn’t own the source material. The creator, or in the case of The Last Jedi Disney, is in control, and they will tell the stories they want to tell2. As a fan, I have to accept that their choices and the story that comes from it may upset me. It’s possible that I will disagree with each and every choice which means I hate, loathe, and despise the movie. My reaction has nothing to do with what they owe me. If they sell me a ticket to a Star Wars movie, all they owe me is a Star Wars movie. Quality and enjoyment aren’t guaranteed nor can they be.
This entitlement, however, speaks to the power of art. It seems like the more a fan identifies with a thing, i.e. Star Wars, the bigger the opportunity for entitlement. The story becomes part of the person. We love it, and out of that feeling of love, we feel the need to protect it. This further connects us to the story. It deepens our sense of ownership. As we spend more money on the mythos, we feel we are investing, which is another form of ownership, in the mythos. So, it’s easy to see how fans may develop that sense of ownership. But a sense of ownership isn’t the same thing as actual ownership.
As the fan invests more of their identity into a mythos, any new installment represents a return on that investment. That return comes with a certain expectation. For stocks and bonds, that expectation is an increase on the initial money. For Star Wars, the expectation is a movie that conforms to the tone and sensibility set by the other movies3. But Wall Street shows us that investments don’t always meet expectations. But instead of simply a loss of money, Star Wars fans felt a loss of self. Something they cherished didn’t meet and actively rebuked their expectations. It felt like a rebuke of their very selves. I get it. Every time someone criticizes something I like, it feels like a criticism of me. When art that I like shifts direction, I’m disappointed. But neither has anything to do with me.
Creators need to follow their own vision, not what the fans feel they are owed4.
1. This has nothing to do with what the creators owe themselves, which is simply their very, very best effort. Nor does it have anything to do with what is contractually owed.
2. Or, at least, Disney will pay someone to create stories they think most people will enjoy.
3. Not to mention the tone and tenor of all the secondary products and media.
4. As a reminder, this does not mean the art cannot be criticized. Criticism is entirely different than telling an artist what to do. Criticism is not entitlement, it’s a conversation with the art you consume.