What exactly is the essential DNA of Star Wars, its unique selling point, its defining je ne sais quoi? Is it its uncanny ability to turn space wizards, walking carpets and beep-booping rubbish bins into the backbone of a multibillion-dollar mythology? Naturally, it’s the creation of a preposterously hopeful galaxy in which a lowly moisture farmer can become a Jedi knight, or a hardbitten bounty hunter can find himself playing surrogate daddy to a tiny green enigma who communicates entirely through coos, ear twitches, and an ability to devour live amphibians. And it’s most definitely the conviction that you can slap a fresh coat of CGI on a 40-year-old spaceship, throw in a few cryptic prophecies about destiny, and still convince millions that this time – this time! – it’s all leading somewhere achingly, untouchably profound.
But what it’s never really been, ever since George Lucas began mulling the idea of a big budget space opera influenced by 1930s adventure serials and 1950s Japanese samurai flicks, is a star vehicle. Which is why this week’s news that Ryan Gosling is to join a new Star Wars film being directed by Deadpool & Wolverine’s Shawn Levy feels downright weird. It’s as if the Mona Lisa suddenly showed up as a background painting on the set of a TV sitcom.
