He's the creative mind behind Chewbacca, Yoda, and Madmartigan. He is recognized the world over as a pioneer in film effects and design. His Skywalker Ranch and THX sound system have revolutionized the way films are produced and screened the world over. Among his film credits are "American Graffiti," "Star Wars," and the Indiana Jones trilogy.

He's George Lucas, and on Wednesday, October 29, he was in Washington D.C. to accept an award from the Smithsonian Institute. Hundreds of loyal Lucas fans attended the ceremony for a glimpse at the genius behind many of their favorite movies. For some, he was just a great filmmaker to honor. For others, he began lifelong committments to science fiction through the appeal of his "Star Wars" trilogy.

Two Pop-Culture-Corn-espondents offer their unique, first-person views on the experience of sharing a room and an hour-long presentation with George Lucas. How does meeting the man change views on his work? Has the experience of heading a multi-million dollar entertainment empire changed Lucas? Is he really kinda short and chubby? Why doesn't he shave? These and many more questions are answered by Steve Millies and Mary Ives in their reports from the Lucas awards ceremony. Read on, true believer!

Steve's Report

I remember seeing "Star Wars" for the first time in the summer of 1977 and I remember the first thrilling trip to the toy store after the movie to buy my first action figure, C3P0. I remember seeing "Empire" for the first time in 1980, and I even remember waiting for three long years to learn the fate of Han Solo and whether or not Vader really was Luke's father before "Jedi" finally came out in 1983. I've been there from the beginning, and I 've followed every step of the way. All of that, however, is only part of the reason why I'll always remember the first time I saw George Lucas in person at the Lisner Auditorium on October 29, 1997 where he was presented with the James Smithson Bicentennial Medal by the Smithsonian Institution. Most of the reason I'll remember has more to do with the disillusionment I suffered when I realized that Lucas is -- dare I speak it?? -- a drip.

The writing has been on the wall for a while now, but I've been ignoring the signs. Try telling a child that Santa Claus doesn't exist sometime; even though they'll know it's true, there's bound to be some period of denial. For me, I could overlook "Willow" as just a poor attempt to step back into his role as American mythmaker. I could even dismiss Howard the Duck as the product of some tragic drug experimentation that we probably won't hear about until Rick McCallum writes his memoirs forty years from now ("The George I Knew, The George I Loved" -- take note, Rick). But as the twentieth anniversary of "Star Wars" approached, as it became clear that Lucas could not resist tinkering with the technical imperfections of a masterpiece, as Lucas began talking about filmmaking and directing the first prequel, I could no longer avoid the truth: George Lucas is not a great writer, producer or director. He's just -- as we have come to call them in the nineties -- a technogeek. He's a very lucky one (like Bill Gates if he had studied a little literature) but a technogeek nevertheless.

There we were, hundreds of Star Wars fans. We had come from all over the city of Washington, D.C. and in some cases from all over the nation to pay tribute to the man who created a phenomenon and reinvented an industry. Some of us were dressed like tastefully groomed grownups, some of us were wearing "Star Wars" t-shirts and carrying toy lightsabers, but we all felt like the screaming brats we were when we first laid eyes on the scrolling words "Episode IV: A New Hope". The excitement was something you could reach out and touch, and so was George Lucas as he sat in the front row of the auditorium. But anybody who came to the ceremony hoping for more than the opportunity to gaze on Lucas from afar would be bitterly disappointed: there would be no photographs and no autographs, all "at the request of the artist".

Even without any effort to offer us something resembling personal contact with Lucas, the program promised a little excitement: we would be the first to see "Star Wars: The Magic of Myth", the film which accompanies the Star Wars exhibit at the Smithsonian, and Lucas would answer selected questions taken from the audience while we stood in line for two hours outside before the event began. If your reaction is to think that sounds a little meager for a $35 investment, you're not far off the mark. But if you had been there you would have expected the best rather than the worst, just like I did.

The film was nice. Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford each had a few things to say, along with Dennis Muren, Ben Burtt, and John Williams (note to the guy in the audience who laughed like a hyena every time Lucas called John Williams "Johnny": What the hell was that all about???). All things being equal, the film offered a very interesting look at the making of Star Wars from a technical and creative perspective. But whether or not it lived up to its promise to describe "The Magic of Myth" is another question entirely. Did the film try to establish the film as a myth? Lucas did say he wanted to address the loss of the Western as American myth and a brief parallel was drawn with Arthurian legend, but much less attention was paid to "Star Wars" as literature than to "Star Wars" as technical marvel. At the end of the film, it took John Williams to bring the topic back to myth. Lucas's attention had wandered away from myths after the first five minutes of the film.

These disappointments notwithstanding, Lucas got an amazing standing ovation when he ascended the stage to receive his award -- it seemed to go on and on. I wish I could say that I remembered any of what Lucas said during his acceptance, but he read his remarks from a prepared script and that took a lot away from the experience. That's not altogether surprising: Lucas's shyness has already received enough testimony on the public record that we can understand his desire to sheepishly read from a text. But what I found a little surprising was the format which followed.

The question forms we had filled out before the program offered spaces for questions for Lucas, Burtt, and Muren. It was just a bit surprising when Lucas sat down to answer questions alone with a moderator, then left the stage as Burtt and Muren came to take their places. Frankly, it all seemed a bit odd. Since we were all there to honor Lucas, why were these other two guys up there? But if they were going to be up there, why not put them up there with Lucas? It all looked just a bit like Mr. Lucas was too important to hold the stage with anyone else.

I'm worried about the prequels. George Lucas has always been shy and I think he's always been more fond of creating new technical innovations than of making a great motion picture. "Star Wars" is clearly special for him personally, and so he caught lightning in a bottle (we can say something similar about American Grafitti). But now as he's grown older, as the technical gizmos have become more advanced and more tempting, and as he has become more insulated by celebrity, can he do it again? To hear him talk about how directing is such an unbearable ordeal (check out the interview in Wired last year) I have to wonder if his heart is really in it, and if he's really just doing this to show off everything ILM has learned in the last twenty years.

Will these prequels be more shine than substance? Will all three of these films even be made, or will Lucas lose his steam once he's proven that he's reinvented film again? I have a very bad feeling about this.

Mary's Report

It's not often one has the chance to meet a figure out of myth. Face it: when's the last time Zeus, King Arthur, or Santa Claus (the real one, not one of the many "helpers" who swarm the malls for months before Christmas), strolled into a college auditorium near you?

Last week, one man who created a trilogy of movies that have insinuated themselves into the collective consciousness of a generation and who in the process has achieved near-mythical status in our popular culture himself, walked into the Lisner Auditorium at George Washington University to receive an award for achievement in filmmaking from the Smithsonian Institution. The award, while richly deserved and a nice idea, was not what the afternoon was about for me, however. It was about being in the same room with the creator of Star Wars and seeing with my own eyes the man who shared with us his visions of a galaxy far, far away, and so I readily plunked down thirty-five of my hard-earned dollars for a ticket.

Arriving nearly two hours before the presentation, there was already a line outside the auditorium that wrapped around the side of the building. The crowd was almost entirely composed of 20 to 35-year-olds, many of whom donned their official Star Wars merchandise for the occasion. Scenes such as this were common at the recent re-release of the remastered "Star Wars" trilogy, but for an event that was billed as a simple award ceremony it was a bit surprising. The line stretched and grew in the hour and a half that followed, and although it was impossible to see the whole thing from my vantage point near the front it was clear that it provided considerable blockage of the sidewalk for at least a city block.

Many pedestrians, a bit frustrated by the usurpation of their walkway, stopped to inquire about the cause. All of them, old and young, responded to the news that Lucas would be speaking with a moment of surprise and disbelief followed by a smile. Not one person asked who Lucas was or why he would be receiving an award from the prestigious Smithsonian Institution. His myth, it appears, is a well-dispersed one.

Inside the auditorium, the open seating inspired a sort of orderly melee. Everybody flocked to the first available rows, but there was no visible pushing or shoving, only a polite insistence on the best seats possible. (It turns out that the arrangement wasn't quite as open as ticket-holders were led to believe -- those who are higher up on the Smithsonian list than a bunch of nameless class-skipping college students had five or so rows reserved at the front of the auditorium for their viewing pleasure).

Only after everyone was seated and the lights began to dim did a small group of people slide through a side door and take their places in the front row of the auditorium. Mara Maynor, director of The Smithsonian Associates, introduced a film called "Star Wars: The Magic of Myth" which will be shown in conjunction with the Star Wars exhibit at the Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. The 27-minute documentary about the mythical roots of Lucas' work was well done and often amusing, although ironically the sound system was clearly under-equipped to handle some of the digitally enhanced sound effects in the clips from the trilogy. Interviews with actors Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford were contrasted with those of composer John Williams and numerous effects and technical members of the team who gave form to the bits and pieces of myth that Lucas had gathered together. There was also, of course, an interview with Lucas himself who talked about the many sources of inspiration for his set of films. As he spoke about the many sci-fi and Japanese movies that lent him the inspiration for his own galaxy, snips of the film of which he spoke were shown. In the moment that garnered the most laughter and applause from the audience, a scrolling text introducing an old black-and-white science-fiction movie crept from bottom to top of the screen. Lucas, it seems, was unashamed about lifting those elements he particularly liked.

The award ceremony followed, in which Lucas himself ascended the stage to a sustained round of applause. The secretary of the Smithsonian hung a medal around Lucas' neck (calling to mind more than a little the awards ceremony at the end of "Star Wars"). Lucas then took a seat and answered questions on everything from his college days (he almost accidentally stumbled into filmmaking and liked it quite a lot) to his favorite characters (it'd be like choosing a favorite from among your children -- he didn't want to comment).

And yes, someone did ask what she should tell her six-year-old daughter when she wanted to know why there was only one woman in "Star Wars." In case you've ever asked that question yourself, Lucas contends that Princess Leia is the most important character in the movie.

After this, Lucas exited stage right, not to be seen again. Ben Burtt, Sound Designer, and Dennis Muren, Senior Visual Effects Supervisor, took the stage and answered some questions about the technical aspects of the movies. Burtt was especially amusing, telling anecdotes that illustrated just what a tight budget the first movie was on, and how little equipment they had to work with. While they may have been there just to give Lucas time to escape from his overly-enthusiastic fans, they were one of the most interesting parts of the afternoon.

And then, it was over. Although the program started about ten minutes late it ended on time, and we were left to wander out of the auditorium and return to our lives. While I know some people felt a bit cheated by the abruptness with which the program closed, I felt that I got what I came for. I got to see the man who told me a story a long time ago, and I got to hear him talk about the conception of the tale. I guess the only thing now is to wait for the next installment of the Star Wars saga. I'm not holding my breath, however--Lucas let slip that it will be 1998 before we get so much as a glimpse of the movie trailer.