The Studio Source.com

I am in the midst of the two busiest weeks of my year. My neck is turning to stone, I have knots in my shoulders big enough to name, and my brain is mush.

Why all this hilarity? Sometimes procrastination is my drug of choice. Don’t look at me like that—how often do you follow your own advice?

So what do I do when my head is attached by duct tape and a prayer? Turn my imagination loose and give myself a good break.

Sometimes my imagination strays into outer space.

I was one of the lucky kids who got to sit in a theatre and watch while a tiny rebel spaceship streaked across a black sky, followed by a massive, lumbering cruiser. It descended from the top of the screen, and as we watched open-mouthed, some unconscious rule of proportion told me to expect to see the end of the ship.

Apparently it’s a universal rule of proportion. Just as I was gaping in disbelief, there were voices expressing shock as that beast of a ship just kept coming. It was incredible. I was in geeky movie Nirvana.

Within the first few minutes of Star Wars, we knew who we were cheering for, and exactly what the rebels were up against. The rest of the movie didn’t let us down.

Fast forward to 2005. We’re at the pivotal moment in Revenge of the Sith. We’re about to see what finally drives Anakin Skywalker over the edge to the Dark Side. There’s an awful lightsaber fight with Obi-Wan. Anakin is horribly maimed. I remember thinking how upsetting that scene might be for the kids in the crowd. Then it happened. Mangled and enraged, Anakin meets Obi-Wan’s eyes and finally breaks.

“I HATE YOU!”

There were a number of thoughts in my mind at that moment, but the one I remember most clearly was this: “Anakin, go to your room.”

The kid’s supposed to be the chosen one. He’s supposed to be lured away from his beautiful and very pregnant wife, his friends and mentors, drawn into a pit of unspeakable evil, and the best the writers can come up with is the three words that characterize every generic temper tantrum since the dawn of civilization?

Since we’re playing well, here’s my point: this is what happens when you break your brand. Your audience doesn’t believe you. Sometimes they feel let down. And sometimes they get mad.

Star Wars is an epic tale. Sure, the special effects of the original three movies look pretty hokey now, and some of the dialogue was, well…

But the story is classic, the mythical hero’s journey. And Darth Vader was a villain who left an impression, particularly if you met him when you were a kid. In fact, the American Film Institute ranks him as one of their top villains.

You don’t mess with that brand. It’s like monkeying around with the formula for Coca-Cola.

Truth be told, I hated all three of the second batch of Star Wars films. I didn’t connect with Anakin in any of his incarnations. I wanted to desperately hope that he wouldn’t be lured to the Dark Side by Montgomery Bur- er, Chancellor Palpatine, because that would have been one hell of a story. But to hope the end of a story you already know will be different, you have to connect with the characters. My favourite actor in Revenge of the Sith was Yoda. A computer generated Muppet. So I sat through Revenge of the Sith with fading hope that the final moments would redeem the travesty that came before it.

What did I get? A petulant post-adolescent tantrum at the edge of a lava lake.

Sith Lords do not have hissy fits. Not even Sith Lords who aren’t quite Sith Lords yet. Heroes who fall have to be convincing heroes first. Heroes don’t sleepwalk their way to the Dark Side. We already knew Darth Vader and what he represented. We needed to believe how he got there.

When your audience believes in your brand, you have to be consistent. Your brand will evolve with your business, but take a side trip to jump around in the dandelions and your fans might get a bit testy.

Don’t even ask me about Jar-Jar Binks.

Opinions? Did you love the original three? Love the three that came after? Ignore the whole lot?