GameSpite.net – Verbal Spew

OK, I’ll stop posting Star Wars photos after this. I don’t want to bore you all to death. Although this has provoked an interesting conversation on the forums, so it was probably worth it! Probably.

Another random interesting detail of the Falcon is that the designers covered it with random decals that look to have been taken directly from model kits. I really like this cluster of decals near the cockpit, particularly the one that says “PULL HANDLE TO JETTISON CANOPY.” Always a great idea on a spacecraft traveling at superluminal speeds.

Darth Vader’s chest plate/mechanism appears to have Hebrew script printed on it. I’d like to think this is some sort of oblique (if not entirely apropos) reference to the legend of the golem, but it probably just says “In case of emergency break glass” or something similarly mundane.

The Stormtrooper rifle on display was encrusted with filth, like a real weapon that’s seen a lot of rough action and hasn’t been properly cleaned and cared for. I don’t know if the dirt is a deliberate creative choice or simply an artifact of use and age, but at least now we know why those guys can’t hit the broad side of a barn: Shoddy weapons maintenance. “Only Imperial Stormtroopers are so precise,” my butt, Ben.

The other really great thing about the Millennium Falcon‘s shooting model (yes, I’m still on about that) is all the detail the creators put into it — wear and tear that, again, would never be visible on-screen but went a long way toward creating a convincing film. Even in remastered high-definition form, the Falcon doesn’t look like a miniature. No doubt the fact that it was a four-foot model factors in there, but you can’t say the same about the television Enterprise, which was even larger. But the Enterprise was pristine and smooth; the Falcon is a jumbled mess of tacked-on parts, exposed inner surfaces, and fender-bender damage. Like back here:

How does a spaceship end up with crumpled edges like that? I can only assume Han bumped into a light pole while he was backing out of a tight parking space.

More details no one would ever see in the movie: These aft vent covers or whatever look like the vents on a old metal screen that’s about three years overdue for replacement after being abused by rambunctious kids on a playground. In reality, these vents are about four inches across. It’s not just that the model-makers poured a lot of information and detail into the ship, it’s that the process must have been meticulous and excruciating due to the scale of the work.

There are even huge, open weapon bolt punctures on the port side of the main body. I have no idea what this part of the ship is supposed to be, but presumably this means there’s a hold or room of the Falcon that’s perpetually open to vacuum that no one ever mentions. This falls somewhere along the lines of writing up a character bio full of details that never appear in a story. The reader or viewer may not know those details, but the fact that you put that kind of thought into it means a lot to its underlying substance.

And this model is why Star Wars was really good, despite… well, everything. Before it became about merchandising and expanded universe novels, it was just about creating a thoughtful sci-fi reimagining of classic fantasy tropes.

I’ve always had two favorite spaceship designs. Both hail from the sci-fi flicks I watched most as a kid, but I’m sure that’s a coincidence.

First, I love the U.S.S. Enterprise (particularly the film era version) for its luminosity and swan-like grace. Secondly, I love the Millennium Falcon for its being the exact opposite. Both ships are designed around the classic “flying saucer” form, but they take it in wildly different directions. The Enterprise bonds the saucer to the classic needle-nose rocket shape and augments the pairing with impossibly delicate sweeping “wings” that suspend its engines above and apart from the ship’s body. The Falcon, on the other hand, basically sticks a couple of prongs to the saucer form along with an awkward, asymmetrical nub of a cockpit, then plays up the gracelessness even further by being the first-ever movie spaceship to be slathered with big patches of dark red Bondo that the owner didn’t bother to paint over. It’s basically a broken-down space pickup running on the equivalent of an F1 engine.

Anyway, since these ships have held such fascination for me for the past 30 years or so, I always find myself scrutinizing their on-screen appearances to try and get a sense of scale and relation between the interior sets and the shooting models. The Falcon‘s cockpit has always been particularly interesting, since it’s roughly the size of a semi cab, glassed in, and should ostensibly show off the ship’s crew. When I’ve seen Star Wars in theaters (and more recently on Blu-ray), I’ve paid very close attention to its exterior cockpit shots to see how the inner details look from outside. Like, can I see Han and Chewie? How about the fuzzy dice? What’s in the cockpit?

Well, now I know.

The answer is… a trio of old-school LEDs mounted to the pilot’s console. One green, one orange, and a smaller dark red one. When powered up, I would predict these create something similar to white light, obscuring the details of the cockpit interior for the camera. It’s almost a disappointing bit of fakery, except that I’m so in love with the chipped and pitted paint they added to the shooting prop exterior that I can’t really complain about learning the inglorious truth of what’s inside.