The dream was simple: liberate filmmaking. Empower creators with powerful new tools – cameras in every pocket, intuitive editing software, the boundless reach of the internet – and break free from the constraints of studio control. George Lucas, even in 1996, understood the core truth: “Those who control the means of production control the creative vision.” But his vision, ironically, was building a digital empire to fuel an ever-expanding Star Wars universe.
Paul Fischer’s book, *The Last Kings of Hollywood*, dissects how the revolutionary filmmakers of the 1970s – Coppola, Lucas, Spielberg – inadvertently built the very system they sought to dismantle. They pulled up the ladder behind them, paving the way for a landscape dominated by franchise fare. Lucas believed studios would *become* like him, part software company, part creative force. He was right about the technology, but underestimated the enduring power of boardroom logic.
The story begins with Francis Ford Coppola, a USC film school graduate frustrated by studio assignments like the saccharine musical *Finian’s Rainbow*. He yearned for artistic control, leading him to establish American Zoetrope, an artist-driven subsidiary of Warner Bros. It was a bold attempt to create without compromise.
Zoetrope’s first project was Lucas’s *THX 1138*, an expansion of his student film. A bleak, Orwellian vision, it was rejected by the studio and then by audiences after a grueling editing battle. The idealized vision of Zoetrope crumbled, but the pursuit of uncompromised filmmaking continued to haunt both Coppola and Lucas, albeit in vastly different ways.
The contrast between the two men is striking. Coppola, the passionate, boisterous Italian-American, driven by artistic fervor. Lucas, the reserved, technically-minded tinkerer from Modesto, more at home in the quiet of an editing suite. Despite their differences, a lifelong friendship endured, even as their paths diverged.
Steven Spielberg, with his own complex background and anxieties, found a natural kinship with Lucas. Their shared love of comic books and film serials ignited the creation of the Indiana Jones franchise. This partnership became central to Fischer’s argument about the decline of creative risk-taking in Hollywood.
The rise of figures like Barry Diller and his “Diller’s Killers” at Paramount signaled a shift. Studios began prioritizing “high concept,” easily franchised material – precisely what Lucas and Spielberg were delivering. The 1970s were defined by risk-takers like Robert Evans; the 1980s belonged to the ruthless efficiency of figures like Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer.
As Lucas and Spielberg ascended, Coppola faced financial ruin, forced to produce more modest work to pay off debts. Both Coppola and Lucas sought artistic freedom, but Lucas’s vision aligned perfectly with Hollywood’s transformation into a global entertainment machine. It was a convergence of ambition and circumstance.
*The Last Kings of Hollywood* excels at capturing the personalities of its subjects, despite the vast scope of the story. However, Fischer occasionally dwells on well-worn anecdotes and the directors’ personal lives, details that don’t always illuminate the central dynamic.
The book raises a crucial question: does technological independence guarantee artistic merit? The recent success of *Iron Lung*, a self-financed video game adaptation created by YouTube star Markiplier, offers a compelling example. It embodies Lucas’s dream of bypassing the studio system, yet reviews have been mixed, with some critics finding it surprisingly dull.
The alignment of auteur vision and blockbuster appeal, as Fischer demonstrates, reveals more about cultural conditions than individual genius. The technological revolution arrived in filmmaking, but its impact on *movie watching* remains unclear. Technical wizardry cannot force art upon an audience.
Ultimately, the missing ingredient in any assessment of Hollywood’s success or failure is taste. And currently, society suffers from a critical deficit. No amount of innovation can compensate for a lack of discerning cultural judgment.
