The doors of Stage 4 on the Paramount lot slammed shut. It was mid December 1975.
Inside a warehouse space, the crew had constructed a modest testing area for the final phase of casting.
Shooting screen tests on actual 35mm film stock was an expensive thing during this era.
Most frugal executives preferred cheap stock for auditions to save the budget. Duke Hauser, however, wanted the best, he knew even in the future this could be published in a Paramount Youtube Channel or something similar.
Pierce Brosnan arrived an hour early for his scheduled block.
He stepped on the marked floor feeling nervous, but prepared. The young Irish actor had spent the past week reading through the novel, memorizing his assigned farm boy scenes and even writing a 'Day in the life' of Luke Skywalker in Tatooine.
He practiced the dialogue until it felt as natural as ordering a cup of coffee.
Duke sat in a director's chair behind the Panavision camera monitor, admiting Pierce performance.
There was no irony in his performance.
In the current cynical era of New Hollywood cinema, young actors usually tried to emulate the grittiness of method actors.
With some going as far as to wink at the camera or treat science fiction jargon as a childish joke.
Duke hated it. He remembered feeling like Hollywood lost its honesty in regards to emotion when it decided to embrace ironicism and 'Marvel Humour'.
He always disliked those blockbusters that struggled to commit to vulnerable emotions, and interrupted dramatic stakes with ironic detachment or one-liners to avoid being seen as 'cringe'
Brosnan did none of that. He delivered the lines with conviction, playing the part of the farm boy.
"He is the one," Duke whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on the glass monitor. "The kid has the right look in his eyes. He looks like he belongs on a farm in the middle of nowhere."
Kurtz nodded in agreement, scratching a note on his pad. "He is a raw talent, but that is what we need for this narrative. We can shape him during the rehearsal process over the next few months."
Kurtz looked back at the monitor. "The audience will believe he is just a naive farm boy who gets swept up in something dangerous. If we cast someone slick, the hero's journey falls flat before the first act even finishes."
Duke and the production team specifically were after an actor who could project youthful earnestness, vulnerability, and innocence.
They needed someone relatable and 'boyish' who could act as the audience's point-of-view into a sci-fi universe.
The eyes of the audience. The most important role.
The boyish performance must draw the audience into entering the world.
Luke Skywalker serves as the "fish out of water" protagonist.
His character fulfills the requirements of the classic hero's journey.
Leaving his ordinary life as a moisture farmer on Tatooine behind, as he steps into a galactic conflict, eventually triggering the destruction of the Death Star.
With the male lead tentatively found, the production team shifted their focus to the crucial chemistry reads.
A Major production needed sparks to keep the audience invested. Duke brought in his top three final contenders for Princess Leia.
Duke already deleted any hint of anything beyond sibling relation from the Leia and Luke story.
The first actress to read opposite Brosnan was Jessica Lange. She possessed acting chops and a strong presence.
However, the scene felt tense but formal. There was a disconnect between the two performers on the soundstage floor.
She felt like a movie star, projecting her lines to the back of a theater. Brosnan, meanwhile, was a real person having a conversation.
The mismatched acting styles clashed on camera.
Next up was Kathleen Turner. The dynamic was awkward from the first line of dialogue. The chemistry simply did not click.
Finally, Geena Davis stepped onto the marks alongside Brosnan.
From the moment they began reading, the scene came alive.
She felt like a princess who had been forced by tragic circumstances to grow up far too fast.
Duke watched them closely, a feeling of relief washing over him.
He grabbed a pen and made a note on his notes. "Geene Davis is the one,"
Most importantly, she could match Brosnan's sincerity without overshadowing him on the screen.
After the studio lights powered down and the actors were dismissed, Duke pulled his producer aside.
"Lock in Brosnan and Davis," Duke instructed firmly. "They are the ones. Start working on their holding contracts before another studio scoops them up. I want them exclusive to this production starting the first week of January, and get their image rights too... theyre necessary."
Kurtz nodded, already flipping to a fresh page on his clipboard.
"Davis will need a dialect coach," the producer pointed out. "She is... too American, and we want Leia to sound like she hails from somewhere otherworldly, not from Masachussets."
Duke agreed with the assessment. "Get her the best coach in town."
Duke paused, thinking about his leading man. "And get Brosnan a dialect coach too. He is very Irish, but Luke Skywalker needs to sound like a rural American."
Kurtz made the necessary notes.
"We are building this universe from the ground up," the producer remarked. "Everything has to be perfect, or the audience will reject the illusion even before the spaceships appear on the screen."
By mid-December, the gears of pre-production were spinning rapidly.
But Duke was still agonizing over the role of Han Solo.
He called Harrison Ford into his Paramount office for a quick meeting.
The spacious office was cluttered with Star Wars concept art and large, hand-drawn storyboards resting on weird places.
Ford arrived looking skeptical.
The actor had been struggling to find meaningful work for the past few years, after Love Story made him a well known actor, he was typecast as a romantic male lead, after a while he mostly went for small roles in indie producitons.
He had been trying to keep working with the original people from the Love Story crew, but everyone had kind of gone their separate ways.
Ford had made the effort and even taken a paycut to appear on a small role in American Graffiti directed by Lucas, but Blythe Danner had been working mostly on stages.
The craziest one was Duke, who had gone to be the big boss in Paramount taking Kurtz with him, and still keeping him as his lead producer for his films.
He slouched down into the guest chair, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. He looked around the room at the spaceship paintings with not a single ounce of interest.
"Youre still trying to convince me to do this, Duke?" Ford asked, his voice thick with reluctance. "I told you last month. I dont want to be running around in a space movie wearing a cowboy vest."
"What happened to that historical Gladiator script you were talking about back in the day? Or something with real stakes? A sci-fi picture right after a horror movie, the Industry doesnt appreciate those kind of movies."
Ford shook his head, thinking about the landscape of 1970s cinema.
"What if the Academy dislikes you for making this? Youre building a serious reputation with Jaws, and this feels like a step backwards..."
Duke did not push back, did not defend his creative choices.
He just reached into his drawer and slid a copy of the script across the wood.
"Just read the script, Harrison. Read it. If you still hate the character, I promise I will stop bothering you. I will cast someone else and let it go."
Duke held the actor's gaze. "But you are the only one who can play this role the way it is written. I need you to anchor this for me."
Ford stared down at the paper for a moment.
He trusted Duke, even if he did not trust the genre, after all Duke, the man who hired him to star in his debut movie when he was nothing but a carpenter, must know something he didnt.
With a sigh, he picked up the script, tucked it under his arm, and left without saying yes.
3 long days later, Ford walked back into Duke's office.
He walked right past the secretary and tossed the read script onto Duke's desk.
"I read it," Ford said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I still think a lot of the technical dialogue can be improved. You cannot type this stuff and expect a human mouth to say it naturally."
He let out a breath. "But the character itself... Han Solo is interesting. He is a selfish cynic who does the right thing when the chips are down. He is a classic scoundrel with a heart of gold."
Duke smiled, "So, you will do the picture?"
Ford offered a casual shrug, "I need steady work right now to pay bills. And you are persistent when you want something. So... i'm in. Tell your people to call my agent."
Duke stood up and extended his hand across the desk. "Welcome aboard, Han,"
With the trio locked down, the production moved into the late December casting phase.
Duke had a private meeting room on the lot to negotiate with the legendary British actor Alec Guinness.
Guinness sat gracefully at the conference table, looking over a few loose script pages.
The classically trained theater veteran was intrigued by the spiritual elements of the story, but he remained skeptical of the laser battles and alien creatures.
"I really have not done much science fiction in my career, Duke," Guinness stated politely. "Are you quite sure this is the right fit for my... capabilities?"
Duke knew exactly how to pitch to a seasoned old man. "Your character is the beating heart of the entire story, Alec. He is the wise mentor, the mystical father figure."
Duke tapped the script pages. "Without his sacrifice, the young hero never learns how to become a true hero. It might be a smaller part on paper, but its an important emotional anchor. The audience will remember him long after the credits roll."
Guinness considered the pitch in silence.
"I will require a flat fee of 150.000 dollars," Guinness stated, locking eyes with him. "Furthermore, I want 2.5% of the backend box office gross written into my contract."
In the studio system of the mid 70s, backend gross points were considered the ultimate prize.
They were strictly reserved for guaranteed box office draws like Steve McQueen or Paul Newman. Asking for gross participation on a supporting sci-fi role was... bold.
"That is an absurd demand for a man with your current level of box office draw, Alec," Duke said, cutting through the typical Hollywood pleasantries. "I am not giving you a percentage of the gross for a supporting mentor role."
Duke leaned back, crossing his arms. "I will offer you a flat fee of 200.000$ dollars. That is a generous bump over your initial quote. Take it or leave it right now. There will be no further backend negotiations."
Guinness was visibly taken aback by the bluntness of the young studio head.
Most executives treated him very nice, terrified of offending a knighted actor with a carreer as illustrious as him.
He blinked several times in surprise, processing the firm rejection of his terms.
Then, a chuckle escaped the older man's lips. "You certainly drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hauser,"
Duke smiled softly, "I have to be. I have a lot of ambitious people working on this picture who need to be paid fairly. We have a deal then?"
Guinness reached across the table, extending his hand with grace.
"Agreed," the legendary actor confirmed. The pivotal role of the Jedi Knight was officially cast.
Later that same afternoon, Duke sat in his office with Gary Kurtz to review the final casting list.
The walls were covered in headshots pinned to corkboards. Duke methodically checked off the names, ensuring every piece was locked in place.
He read down the typed sheet aloud to the producer.
"Luke Skywalker is Pierce Brosnan.
Princess Leia is Geena Davis.
Han Solo is Harrison Ford.
Obi-Wan Kenobi is Alec Guinness."
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Short chapter