Kanye West, STAR WARS and the Future of Movies
How THE LIFE OF PABLO and the original STAR WARS trilogy are redefining the idea of finished creative work — and what it means for the future of cinema.
A bit of cultural kismet blipped into existence last week. Despite Kanye West’s promise that The Life of Pablo would “never never never be on Apple” and “it will never be for sale…” and “you can only get it on Tidal,” his eighth studio album became available on Apple Music, Google Play Music, Spotify, and kanyewest.com. Simultaneously, Star Wars: The Force Awakens arrived on digital platforms. The crucial connection between these releases lies not in their timing but in how both redefine what constitutes a finished creative work — shaped by their creators’ perfectionism and offering insight into cinema’s trajectory.
The album’s rollout proved chaotic. Beginning New Year’s Eve with a Nike diss track, Kanye spent six weeks announcing completion under different titles (SWISH, then WAVES, finally The Life of Pablo), hosting a fashion show debut, updating tracklists repeatedly, delaying release while blaming collaborators, announcing availability on SNL, and ultimately making it a TIDAL exclusive. Yet the pivotal moment came after release when he announced plans to revise “Wolves.” Rather than treating the album as finished, Kanye updated it continuously. Universal Music subsequently issued a statement describing this as “an innovative, continuous process,” positioning it as “a living, evolving art project.”
This evolutionary approach echoes George Lucas’s notorious reworking of the original Star Wars trilogy through special editions. Lucas famously kept any existing film prints of the untouched trilogy under lock and reportedly confiscated surfacing reels. Even the National Film Registry was denied the original 1977 version for preservation. Regarding the 35 million VHS copies of original versions, Lucas relied on media degradation, anticipating that “a hundred years from now the special editions will be ‘the only version of the movie that anyone will remember.’”
The difference lies in distribution format. With streaming dominance and digital retail, future filmmakers can simply replace central files without maintaining physical media constraints. This democratizes Lucas’s approach while creating thorny questions about artistic ownership and audience preference. Unlike devoted fans preserving “Despecialized Edition” versions, audiences may lack recourse against unwanted revisions. The notion of treating creative work as updateable software — complete with changelogs — feels inevitable yet troubling. This future was foreshadowed by one filmmaker’s past tinkering and is now being solidified by an artist embracing technological possibility.