Peter Mayhew Made Chewbacca an Icon Without Ever Saying a Word

A big lug, a dog without pants, a Halloween costume, a sneakily hard impersonation, an alter-ego for a hysterically laughing suburban mom, a walking carpet, a lumbering special effect–you can describe Chewbacca as all of those things. You could even dismiss Chewbacca as all of those things, little more than a furry alien whose likeness can be slapped on everything from mugs and pajama pants to backpacks and St. Patrick’s Day t-shirts (a thing that actually, inexplicably exists). At his core he’s the archetypal funny looking alien that delivers laughs. But, in the wake of Peter Mayhew’s passing, we have to talk about why Chewbacca persists in popular culture while so many other funny Star Wars aliens don’t. It’s because Peter Mayhew, his entire body obscured by head-to-toe yak hair, was a truly gifted, brilliant performer, one who turned a walking carpet into a fully-developed hero with a soul without using his voice or face.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Star Wars: Episode V–The Empire Strikes Back, specifically during the carbon-freezing chamber scene. On a personal note, this is my favorite scene in my favorite Star Wars movie, which is also my favorite movie, which means this is my favorite scene in all of movie history–and it’s Chewbacca’s best moment, where he goes from being a wacky co-pilot to a pained protagonist.

Put this moment in context for Chewbacca: he definitely had a lot of scene-stealing moments in 1977’s Star Wars, the movie that gave us “let the Wookiee win” and that absolutely delightful “abso-f’ing-lutely not” head shake when Han demanded Chewie come back to hole they blasted out the side of the trash compactor. Mayhew’s performance throughout that film is a true marvel, the way he infused easily the most outlandish lead character in the whole nutty film with an effortless cool. Seriously, is there anything cooler in Star Wars than Chewie’s lean back, putting his big hands behind his head during that game of holochess?

Empire Strikes Back is a movie that, in a move that was controversial at the time, pushed every single character past their limit. Leia’s vulnerability, Luke’s existential despair, Han’s mortality–C-3PO literally gets blown to pieces! It’s a fun movie, but it’s not a fun movie, and Chewbacca does not come out unscathed either. His guttural cry when they close the shield doors on Echo Base, Han still trapped out in the deathly cold, was unlike anything Chewie did in A New Hope.

And then there’s the carbon-freezing chamber scene.

This is by far the most emotionally complex scene in all of Empire, one involving so many major franchise characters and even more extras. But beyond that, this is the scene that rips out the film’s scoundrel heart and casts it down into the pit of an ice cold hell. There is so much in this scene. In rapid fire succession, you get substantive moments deepening Han and Lando’s broken trust, Lando’s mounting unease, Boba Fett’s motives, Vader’s cruelty, Threepio’s anxiety, and then–as if that’s not enough–Han and Leia’s everything. Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, and Billy Dee Williams have the luxury of using their faces and voices to run this gauntlet of emotion. The masked characters, Threepio, Boba Fett, and Vader, don’t have arcs to play in this scene.

And then there’s Chewbacca. The character in the room that knows Han the best, that loves Han the most, is the one whose gargled howls will be added in post-production, the one whose face you fully cannot see. In order for the stakes to be sold, in order for the pain to be real, in order for this–arguably the most important scene in the whole movie–to work, Peter Mayhew has to sell it. And he does.

This scene is why Chewbacca is omnipresent. It’s this scene that elevates Chewie from an action figure to an icon, a fully realized character capable of swinging from rage to sorrow. The journey Chewie goes on is the most dynamic of any character in this scene. Audiences expect his rage-filled freakout, shoving stormtroopers over the edge in a mad attempt to save his partner. That’s the Wookiee that rips arms out of sockets when they lose, and Chewie’s about to lose big. But then Han reasons with him, shouting him down; there’s a brief moment where they’re both open mouth screaming at each other in the face, the intimacy forged by a million other desperate moments during their decade of teamwork flashing on screen in that millisecond.

“Save your strength, there’ll be another time.” Han reasons, and Chewbacca listens. “The princess, you have to take care of her,” Han says, not only protecting Leia but protecting Chewbacca himself. He knows Chewie needs to focus on something other than him in that moment, that he needs an objective that isn’t a kamikaze mission against a Sith Lord. The way Leia sidles up to Chewbacca in that moment, the way Chewie looks down at the woman that once called him a “walking carpet,” there’s a connection there on the screen–a connection forged through blistering loss. And then Han’s tossed into the carbon-freezing chamber, as Chewbacca howls the most despondent howl.

This scene fleshed out Chewbacca’s character, dignifying him by letting him run through the stages of grief. He was more than a mascot. He was a hero capable of compassion, reason, heartbreak–and Peter Mayhew conveyed all of this through the swing of his arms and the tilt of his head, saying nothing with words while saying everything with movement.

Where to watch Star Wars: Episode V–The Empire Strikes Back