The film offers no great new revelations, no shocking anecdotes, no amazing stories of recognition or celebrity. Spira doesn’t give us much context, save for some brief flashes of faked behind-the-scenes footage: an X-wing pilot eating a
So he gets these people talking, one after the other, in a blur of reflections and anecdotes about workaday things. Paul Blake, who was the guy in the Greedo mask, relates how they had to use a dummy for the money shot of him actually getting blown away by Han Solo — which is his character’s claim to fame. Garrick Hagon, who played Luke Skywalker’s friend Biggs, recalls how he first felt upon learning that his big scene had been excised from the film — and how special it now seems that he’s become somewhat famous as a guy who was cut from Star Wars.
There’s an actor who played the Stormtrooper who accidentally (and famously!) hit his head in the background of one shot. Somewhat incongruously, there’s also David Prowse, who actually played Darth Vader; I’m not entirely sure why he’s here, since he had a pretty major part, even if it was behind a mask and his voice was replaced by James Earl Jones'. But it’s all cut together in such a way that we eventually forget who was who and who played what, and their words blend together into a kind of miasmic totality — an Oversoul for Star Wars day-players.
But again, why should we even care? Maybe it’s the idea of unremarkable lives lived in the shadow of something remarkable, mythic. Or maybe there’s a kind of authenticity in the recollections of ordinary people who have nothing to lose or gain. When movie stars talk about other movie stars — especially in this world of hyper-managed press and carefully stewarded public profiles — it means pretty much nothing. But when an extra says that Mark Hamill was a nice guy, you’re inclined to believe.
The most interesting part of Elstree 1976 comes when these actors express ambivalence about their odd celebrity. They are not deluded: They understand that their fame comes thanks to mostly anonymous work. In several cases, it took some convincing by others to even get these people to appear at various conventions and fan events. “I'm a serious actor,” Blake exclaims. “I've played Macbeth. And on my tombstone, it will say, ‘Here Lies Greedo’!” He says it, however, with very little bitterness. Mostly, he seems bemused, and it’s clear that he’s made his peace with the idea.
Maybe that’s why Elstree 1976 will ultimately make audiences care: We recognize something of ourselves in these people. In their ability to accept who they have become, and who they are not, they reflect an essential truth about life. Blake, as Macbeth, would have uttered Shakespeare’s bleak, tragic line, “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/And then is heard no more.” As Greedo, he lived it — and found some unlikely joy in it.