Slate: Lucas vs. Spielberg. "Rivalry may not be quite the right word for the relationship that exists between Lucas and Spielberg. What they have is far more subtle: something more like the impacted, covert, passive-aggressive version of rivalry practiced by siblings—wherein any hint of hostility is buried in a bear hug and conflict covered with a smile. Theirs is a battle fought out in box-office millions and backhanded compliments, blockbusters, and casual slights. "He's taught me a lot about creative compromise," Spielberg once said of Lucas, with a straight face. And when Spielberg repeatedly begged to direct one of the new Star Wars episodes, Lucas reported the story with the glee of a child keeping his favorite toy just out of reach.

He would later call Lucas "the best moviemaker of his generation," adding, "I was admiring and jealous of his style and proximity to audiences." But he also teased Lucas about his technique—Lucas' static camera positions, in particular, used to amuse Spielberg, whose sinuously gliding camerawork was fast becoming legendary. "George makes his visuals come to life through montage," he said. "That makes him unique in our generation, since most of us do it instead with composition and camera placement."

At the time, it was Spielberg's career that seemed checkered. Both Jaws and Close Encounters had gone wildly over budget, as did his elephantine World War II farce, 1941—Spielberg's first flop—so that by the time he got around to Raiders, if anyone resembled a man trying to outrun a giant runaway boulder, it was he. Lucas, as executive producer, had a hard time convincing studio heads that Spielberg was the right director for Raiders.

Lucas had helped curb Spielberg's tendency toward financial excess, but Spielberg would rightly take credit for Raiders' artistry. When Nazis shoot up a casket of liquor, Karen Allen stops briefly to grab a mouthful before getting on with the fight. Lucas would never have shot that, or if he did he would have cut it, but for Spielberg, such touches are, you feel, almost the reason for shooting the film; for while speed excites Lucas—precisely because it seals him off from what blurs past, like Luke Skywalker in his X-wing cockpit—it seems almost to relax Spielberg, loosening him up for dabs of characterization and his goosiest, off-the-cuff humor.

As Martin Scorsese put it: "Lucas became so powerful that he didn't have to direct. But directing is what Steven has to do." If directors' careers are essentially conversations with an audience, then Spielberg's has been ongoing, attentive, endlessly responsive, and curious—after the bold shock of Jaws, the beatifically soothing Close Encounters, after the bloat of 1941, the clean economy of Raiders. Lucas is rather more like the man at the dinner party who says one bold, brilliant thing and then shuts up—in his case for 22 years.

Their personalities began to diverge. "[Y]ou never get the feeling with Steven that it's my way or the highway," says Scott Ross, former president of Industrial Light & Magic. "It's 'what do you think, what do you think, what do you think...' and he'll go, 'Wow that's a great idea.' Unbelievable exuberance and incredibly collaborative." Lucas had become resentful, even hermitlike. "You have to remember that George is a guy who came out of school and wound up being a superstar and amassing a fortune very, very quickly," says Ross. "He is incredibly shy. He's not a very people person. He had this real distrust of lawyers, a real distrust of accountants and management executives, and one of the reasons he wound up staying in the Bay Area was to get away from all of that." Ross continues, "And also to an extent that's the reason he started Pixar"—the studio that made Toy Story—"so he could make movies with a limited amount of people—literally put himself in a dark room, and direct and edit the whole thing by himself."

A decade later, Spielberg would coax Lucas back out of his cave, for it was Jurassic Park that lit the fire beneath Lucas' tail and spurred him to direct again. When Spielberg showed Lucas Industrial Light & Magic's test reel of a computer-generated T. rex, Lucas' eyes filled with tears—he hadn't quite realized how advanced his own company's effects had become.

"He won't let me do one," Spielberg told interviewers. "I understand why—Star Wars is George's baby. It's his cottage industry and it's his fingerprints. He knows I've got Jurassic Park and Raiders of the Lost Ark. But George has Star Wars, and I don't think he feels inclined to share any of it with me."

The contest between the two men now looks very close to being a rout. Even if you put aside the Oscars that Spielberg has won for his more "adult" work, like Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan, and compare the two men solely in terms of their contributions to blockbuster cinema—in terms of pure popcorn—it is clear that Lucas' much-vaunted connection to the audience, which Spielberg once so feared, looks a little rocky. Lucas' career rests precariously on a single film, directed back in 1977. Everything else of his has failed, except Raiders, which Spielberg directed. And so Lucas has been drawn back to Star Wars with an air of glum fatalism, while Spielberg puts on ever more ambidextrous displays of reach and range. Lucas may well win the box-office battle this summer, but Spielberg looks like he's won the war." Too bad the SW fans won't get anything more out of the series than Lucas will allow them, within his ability. Fortunately, there always will be fan fictions/movies.