Star Wars, George Lucas, and How Copyright Term Limits Can Affect The Death of The Author

May is an important month for Star Wars fans. Episode IV, A New Hope premiered on May 25, 1977, ushering in the age of the summer blockbuster. This past Sunday was May 4th, affectionately known by fans as Star Wars Day basically so they can all walk around saying "May the Fourth be with you" with impunity. This year, May has taken on extra significance; just last week, Disney released a picture of the cast for the new Star Wars film, Episode VII to be directed by J.J. Abrams and starring a bunch of exciting young actors like Oscar Isaac, John Boyega, and Lupita Nyong'o. It will also feature the original trilogy cast members, including notorious grump, Harrison Ford.

It's all very exciting and even though I've never been a big Star Wars fan, I've been thinking a lot lately about poor old George Lucas. His reputation never recovered from the terrible prequel trilogy and the much hated "Special Editions" of the original films. I have to believe it was the fierce and unrelenting backlash that finally convinced him to sell Lucasfilm to Disney. While he is publicly staying involved with the new films as an elder statesman, it's pretty clear he's washed his hands of the whole thing. And why not? The fan community all but called for his head on a pike after Lucas made those changes to the original films, often with terrible CGI, and some of which altered the thematic tenor of the story (i.e. making Greedo shoot first).

Of course, Lucas had the right to do anything he wanted to those films, including turning Boba Fett into a New Zealander for some reason. The copyrights, and all rights of revision, were his. As far as the law is concerned, that's all that matters. The fans, on the other hand, saw Star Wars as theirs, and many of them used ugly phrases like "George Lucas raped my childhood" to illustrate their feelings on the matter. But I think beneath all that unhinged terror, there's a legitimate argument to be made that after a work is published to the world, the work is no longer the sole property of the artist. And while that concept is not codified in our laws, maybe it should be.

I recently wrote a blog post stating that indefinite copyrights may not be such a bad thing. My argument echoed that of George R.R. Martin, who believes that the creator and his or her heirs are the best people to maintain the integrity of the work over time. I think he has a point... a point that is unfortunately undercut by creators like Lucas who monkey around with their works after they've been released. So how do you codify it? Well, shortening copyright terms would be one way to go. [Yes, that old chestnut. You didn't think I was done harping on it, did you?]

Right now, individual copyrights last for life of the author plus 70 years, resulting in upwards of 170 years of protection. What message does that much protection send? That the copyright owner has complete control over his work for several generations, regardless of the effects of the work on the culture at large. By shortening copyright terms to something like a flat 75 years, Congress would send a very public message to artists and creators that after a certain period of time, the art no longer belongs solely to them; it belongs to the people. And lest you call me a socialist, remember that progress for the betterment of society was one of the original purposes behind copyright protection. While Lucas had the legal right to change his films, he made those changes without much regard for the cultural impact those movies had. The way our copyright law is written today, he shouldn't have to. But the law can't exist in a vaccuum, separated neatly from the realities of life. Star Wars had an immense impact on countless people; you can't just ignore that. Remember that Lucas is hardly the first franchise creator whose ownership interest was outstripped by the fanbase. J.R.R. Tolkien rewrote huge portions of The Hobbit long after it had been published so it would better fit in with the darker tone of Lord of the Rings. His publisher had to step in and prevent him from rewriting it entirely, afraid that The Hobbit's fanbase would be turned off by changes to the upbeat tale.

I'm a strong believer in the death of the author, and I think that altering the length of copyright ownership is a logical extension of that. But if I'm being honest, I'm not as sure as I once was on the merits of shortening copyrights. For every George R.R. Martin who convinces me that creators should have indefinite control of their work, there's a George Lucas who clearly demonstrates that taking the work away from the author may actually protect the art. Luckily, I have this space where I can exercise those uncertainties. What do you guys think?

Protecting The Brand: Why Letting You Hate King Joffrey Is A Baller Move By HBO

I don't watch Game of Thrones and I never read the books, but even I know King Joffrey is a nasty little shit. That's because everyone, up to and including HBO, keeps telling me. A few weeks ago, HBO did something quite interesting; in anticipation of the upcoming fourth season of the show, the network sponsored a twitter “roast” of Joffrey Baratheon, King of Westeros. The premise is this: fans of the show would tweet horrible things about the horrible king using the hashtag #RoastJoffrey.  The best tweets would be compiled by HBO at www.RoastJoffrey.com. Here are some I picked out at random:

 If you’re a fan of brand protection (and who isn’t these days?) then you should reserve a space of honor for HBO. See, people hate Joffrey... and hating Joffrey has become something of a national pastime  (here’s a Facebook page with the elegant and appropriate title Fuck You, Joffrey Baratheon). The hatred has become so intense that you have to feel bad for actor Jack Gleeson. By all accounts, he’s a nice kid, but the character he plays is such a schmuck that Gleeson can't even watch his own performance. He's even vowed to quit acting when his tenure at GoT ends in order to devote himself to charity work.

Anyway, the Twitter roast proves that HBO knows how to have fun. Furthermore, it shows that HBO understands the fans are going to build a community around the show anyway, so it might as well be a part of that. By joining in the fun of hating Joffrey, HBO is aligning itself with the fans ("we're fans of these characters, just like you!") and in the process, it is building brand loyalty among the audience. Why is that so important? Because if you like HBO you're less likely to steal from them. It's a simple, but effective, truth. If you think HBO cares about your fandom (and word is that they really do care, this isn't just a hollow put on), you're less likely to illegally download the show and more willing to buy the DVDs and all that delicious GoT merchandise.

In reality, there’s no evidence that illegal downloading actually harms large corporate copyright holders (and at least one study shows that illegal downloads actually increase legal sales by 2%), but why take the risk, especially when positioning yourself with the fans is so easy? To me this is a no-brainer. When the fans like you, they’re less likely to steal from you. HBO gets that, and as a result they’re going to let you hate on King Joffrey with the fury of 1,000 suns. I think it’s a good trade-off.

Sherlock Holmes Enters The Public Domain And George R.R. Martin Does A Happy Dance: Why Longer Copyrights Might Be Better For Artists

Eight months ago, I wrote this article describing why it would be a good thing if Sherlock Holmes entered the public domain. The premise of the article was that long-living copyrights are harmful to artists; they stifle innovation and creativity and incentivize large copyright owners to pursue legal action against even the most minimal use of their copyright. By shortening the copyright lifespan, the monetary value of  properties like Sherlock, would drop, making them less appealing and thus motivating artists to create new works instead. Simultaneously, copyright lawsuits against infringers would drop, keeping smaller independent artists out of court.

Well, last week I got my wish. According to a federal judge in Illinois, Sherlock Holmes and all elements of his character created prior to 1922 are now in the public domain, which means that anyone in the U.S. (but not the U.K.) can write their own personal Sherlock fanfic and profit from it without paying the Conan Doyle estate it's traditionally hefty fee. So, happy Greg, right? Well maybe not. A strange thing happened on the way to victory... I sort of changed my mind.

George R.R. Martin's hatred of fan fiction had something to do with it. In a recent interview, Martin said this in response to a question about his refusal to license Game of Thrones for use in fan fiction:

 [O]ne thing that history has shown us is eventually these literary rights pass to grandchildren or collateral descendents, or people who didn't actually know the writer and don't care about his wishes. It's just a cash cow to them. And then we get abominations to my mind like Scarlet, the Gone with the Wind sequel. 

I've always admired Tolkien and his immense influence on fantasy.  Although I've never met the man, I admire Christopher Tolkien, his son, who has been the guardian of Tolkien's estate who has never allowed that. I'm sure there are publishers waiting in the wings with giant bags of money just waiting for someone to say, "Yes, go ahead, let's write Sauron Strikes Back." I hope I never see Sauron Strikes Back written by some third-rate writer who leaps at the opportunity.

His reasoning makes sense to anyone who has created something worth stealing: he wants to protect the integrity of his creation. Which is pretty easy while he's alive. He can approve or deny any licensing request that he thinks might dishonor the work. But what about after he dies? How do you ensure that the people who become guardians of GoT can protect it the way he wants? Part of the answer, I think, is to make copyrights indefinite, preventing them from entering the public domain. This would effectively turn them into business assets (much like trademarks). For some artists, this could be beneficial.

For the record, I still believe it's important to prevent unnecessary infringement lawsuits and spur innovation - remember, the Constitution supports the protection of copyright for the public good, not just for personal financial gain. For those reasons, I would still support shortening copyright durations. But Martin's words made it clear to me that these aren't the only issues that matter. Isn't artistic integrity something the law should be protecting as well? After all, artists don't just create for the money or recognition. They are driven to create because they have something to say. If an artist can protect the integrity of the work over time, that gives the work greater meaning. Conversely, if copyrights are shortened, the meaning behind the work suffers. For Martin, shorter copyrights would mean those "third-rate writers" would be granted unfettered access to GoT that much sooner. You can see how unappealing that would be for him.

Martin's not alone either. In the late 90's, Disney was on the verge of losing the rights to some of Mickey Mouse's earliest films. In order to prevent them from entering the public domain, Disney lobbied Congress to extend copyright durations. Their efforts paid off in 1998 when Congress passed the Copyright Term Extension Act (referred to derogatorily as the Mickey Mouse Protection Act), which extended the lifespan of all copyrights in the process: individual copyrights were lengthened from life of the author plus 50 to life plus 70, while works of corporate authorship were extended from 75 to 120 years. Time, however, catches us all, and Disney's copyrights will start expiring as early as 2017, so you can bet good money that they'll put the full-court press on Congress to extend copyright terms again. As long as Disney stands to lose its most valuable commercial asset, copyright terms will continue to grow. And the longer Disney has the power to lobby, the more likely copyrights will eventually gain perpetual life. In the not too distant future, Disney may have the right to Mickey Mouse in perpetuity.

But is this inherently a bad thing? I'm not so sure. There are numerous examples of long-term guardianships protecting the integrity of their properties. There's Christopher Tolkien refusing the license any of his father's work for film or television (the elder Tolkien sold the film rights to The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings back in 1969). There's the Conan Doyle estate ensuring that all filmic versions of Sherlock meet the owners' high standards. There's also the Broccoli family maintaining a tight control over the James Bond film franchise for the last 50 years. Say what you will about the quality of any individual work, but no one could argue that these owners have anything less than the integrity of the source material at heart.

In any legislation there are trade-offs, with different issues being important to different stakeholders. For some, protection against big corporations is the most salient issue; shorter copyrights make sense for those people. But for someone like Martin, who has created a sprawling world that is financially viable and popular enough to have imitators, it makes sense for the law to protect the quality of the work. That could mean Martin and his heirs own GoT forever.

So maybe, just maybe, I was wrong about the value of longer copyrights. But no matter what, this isn't an issue that can be settled in a single blog post by lil ol' me.