Empire Magazine take a look at the making of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back as it celebrates its 40th anniversary.
Dagobah, the stinking, foetid swamp planet, long forgotten at the corner of the galaxy, was to be found on Elstree’s Soundstage 3. Here production designer Norman Reynolds had flooded the concrete floor and planted Old Man’s Beard, a hardy perennial that flourishes without sunlight. Fogged with dry ice, it became a dense, morbid place, just as George Lucas had imagined. In this purpose-built bog, the young Luke Skywalker was to get his Jedi training from master Yoda – the two-foot, melon-headed imp with a droll inverted speech pattern delivered by Muppeteer Frank Oz. Mark Hamill was finding these pivotal Yoda scenes taxing, all too aware of the technicians wiggling the little fella into action and, with his director Irvin Kershner below decks, he felt stranded and lost. It was a mood that had prevailed through the whole shoot, and as he slumped down for his last taste of Dagobah, and, as his rubber co-star urged him “to feel the Force”, the weariness threatened to engulf him. Then, across the swamp there came a high-pitched screech from another galaxy altogether.
“Feelings?” squawked Miss Piggy, emerging onto the stage beside Yoda. “You wanna know about feelings? Get behind this couch and I’ll show you feelings, ya little runt.” Dressed in an elaborate lavender ensemble, the divine, felt pig took a brief look around and threatened to call her agent: “I’ve been booked in dumps before, but nothing like this.” Hamill burst into much-needed laughter.
It was a moment of rare and refreshing comedy in a shoot that was becoming mired in enough turmoil to make the problematic Star Wars production look like a picnic at the Ranch. But it was to avail. In the grand tradition of traumatised creative endeavours, The Empire Strikes Back would not only equal its predecessor, it would surpass it, to become the Star Wars movie by which all others are judged.
“I was very nervous when I started the second film,” Lucas admitted when the inevitable hunger for a sequel to the stellar Star Wars came into view. He knew, as the story fermented in his head, this would be a darker film, a chance to delve into the characters’ relationships and throw light on the mystical power of the Force. If he got this one right, there was no knowing where it could stop. This was the chance to expand beyond the original, and boy, was he going to throw things open. If he got this wrong, he’d likely face a mob of furious devotees wielding plastic lightsabers, braying for his beard. He also had no wish to direct again, the ill-health and mega-stress caused by Star Wars meaning he was eager for someone else to helm, although he remained a floating Ben Kenobi, hovering over the production.
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