In 1977, a space opera movie tinged with samurai culture, cowboy attitudes and alien rivalries seemed like a mishmash doomed to fail, or at least to trickle into the annals of cinema as a cult classic.

But on its release in theaters far, far and wide, “Star Wars” became an unexpected global phenomenon.

Here are the stories of some of the members of the film’s cast and crew who brought alien planets to life, perfected the beep-boop of android languages and imbued the characters with their gravitas and timeless appeal.

James Earl Jones (1931-2024): Before he found his powerful voice, he stuttered. Even if you did not recognize Jones’ face as he shifted into different roles throughout the decades, you would surely have recognized his thunderous voice. His belonged to the embittered but resilient writer in “Field of Dreams”; the tragic commander Othello on Broadway; and, to the delight and spine-tingling terror of “Star Wars” fans, the masked arch-villain Darth Vader.

At his request, he was not initially credited in the first two “Star Wars” films, but his rumbling monotone made nearly every one of Darth Vader’s lines sound like a threat.

Jones, born in Mississippi, was abandoned by his parents as a young child, and moved in with his mother’s family, a time which he described as a troubled period. By age 8, he suffered from such a severe stutter that he refused to speak. He felt lonely and isolated, but used those emotions in the characters he portrayed later in his life.

“No matter how old the character I play,” Jones told Newsweek in 1968, “even if I’m playing Lear, those deep childhood memories, those furies, will come out. I understand this.”

Carrie Fisher (1956-2016): Her Princess Leia ushered in a reign as the queen of sci-fi. It could have been easy, and perhaps predictable for the era, for Fisher to play Princess Leia as a damsel in distress. An early appearance by her in the first film, as a grainy recording asking Obi-Wan Kenobi for help, might have foreshadowed Leia’s frailties.

Instead, Fisher played the part with grit and verve, and as Dave Itzkoff wrote in her Times obituary, she “could very much deal with her own distress.”

She fired blaster pistols alongside the film’s lead male roles; she became a Resistance general in her own right; and in the first film, as she stands captive in front of a menacing Darth Vader, she offers this line instead of fear: “Only you could be so bold.”

Fisher’s tough and sardonic portrayal set the tone for the franchise for many viewers, and announced that the action-packed space odyssey would not only be for boys.

She was born in Beverly Hills, Calif., to pop singer Eddie Fisher and actress Debbie Reynolds. Carrie Fisher would later rely on her experience growing up among Hollywood royalty to write several books about the quirks of the industry.

Peter Mayhew (1944-2019): The franchise’s friendly giant, his features hidden by fur. Mayhew, who stood 7-foot-3, was in his 30s and working as a hospital orderly when his size caught the attention of a producer, who later recommended Mayhew to George Lucas, the franchise’s creator. Mayhew was cast in the first “Star Wars” movie as Chewbacca, the furry and lovable Wookiee sidekick to Han Solo.

Among a panoply of characters who sparked an intense fandom and defined a genre for decades, Mayhew’s Chewbacca stood the test of time as one of the series’ most memorable characters. And unlike many of his alien and android contemporaries, Chewbacca did so without speaking a word (that viewers could understand, anyway).

(Mayhew did not provide the character’s voice, which was created through recorded animal sounds.)

Born in London, Mayhew had a form of gigantism and was already extraordinarily tall by his teens. Mayhew was popular with fans at conventions, where he could be seen with a cane that resembled a lightsaber. He was once stopped at the airport by Transportation Security Administration workers, who, after a brief look, let him move on.

Colin Cantwell (1932-2022): Fighter jets and the perilous Death Star were crafted from his imagination. In one of the most celebrated battle sequences of the “Star Wars” franchise, rebel savior Luke Skywalker uses the Force to direct torpedoes through a trench in the Death Star, exploiting a tiny vulnerability and destroying the ship.

The scene incites fierce scrutiny to this day. How could there be such an architectural oversight in a state-of-the-art war machine the size of a small planet? Perhaps the Death Star’s designer, Cantwell (who lived in Boulder), laid awake at night with regret.

“I sold armament to both sides,” Cantwell said in response to the question during a Q-and-A on Reddit in 2016, “so not embarrassed.”

In addition to the Death Star, Cantwell was the designer and conceptual artist behind other “Star Wars” spacecraft, including the X-wing, the TIE fighter and the cockpit for the Millennium Falcon.

Cantwell’s father was a graphic artist, and his mother was a riveter during World War II.

Michael Culver (1938-2024): A memorable death at the hands of a villain. Captain Needa had meant well. He and those in his command on an Imperial Star Destroyer ship were pursuing the Millennium Falcon when it inexplicably disappeared. Taking sole responsibility, he said that he alone would apologize to Darth Vader.

In the next scene, the captain, played by Michael Culver, lets out his last breath, crumpling to the ground in pain and with a look of shock.

“Apology accepted, Captain Needa,” Darth Vader says as he steps over the body, having just asphyxiated the captain telepathically.

For such a brief moment in a sprawling film, Culver created a lasting impact with the character’s untimely demise. A short clip of the scene on YouTube has more than 2 million views.

The quick scene belied a career that spanned decades onstage and on the screen, with roles in the television show “The Return of Sherlock Holmes” and two James Bond films that starred Sean Connery: “From Russia With Love” and “Thunderball.” Culver also performed in Shakespeare plays and later focused on politics instead of acting.

John Mollo (1931-2017): His costumes grounded villains and heroes in a universe all their own. When Mollo came on board as costume designer on the original “Star Wars,” it was his first foray into science fiction. A largely self-taught historian, he had written for historical publications and illustrated books about military garb when Lucas reached out with an offer.

“Luckily, my total ignorance of science fiction wasn’t a problem,” Mollo wrote in a foreword to Brandon Alinger’s book “Star Wars Costumes: The Original Trilogy” (2014).

Lucas, he added, “didn’t want his film (then called ‘The Star Wars’) to look ‘spacey’ — none of the wide shoulders and flying capes of the ‘Flash Gordon’ school.”

Mollo drew from his sartorial acumen to create iconic martial-arts wardrobes for Luke Skywalker, sagely robes for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the rugged, dusty garments for Han Solo.

His work earned an Oscar for costume design at the 50th Academy Awards ceremony. He accepted the award alongside actors dressed as Darth Vader and storm troopers.

Alec Guinness (1914-2000): A Jedi mentor rich with lore, and a catalyst for a hero’s journey. Few characters were as pivotal to the narrative arc of “Star Wars” as Alec Guinness’ Obi-Wan Kenobi. The even-tempered mentor to Luke Skywalker trained the chosen hero, and before that, Luke’s father, Darth Vader, in the ways of the Force.

Obi Wan’s anger, when allowed, was righteous; his advice could be aloof and cryptic.

Early on in the first film, Luke mentions that he would have liked to have known his own father, unaware it was Darth Vader, the man feared throughout the galaxy. Obi-Wan barely bats an eye as he tells Luke about the man before he turned to the dark side, revealing his life only before he transitioned to Vader.

“He was the best star pilot in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan says. “And a cunning warrior.”

And he adds, more to himself than to his company, “He was a good friend.”

Guinness, born in London, finished preparatory school in 1932, then worked as an apprentice at a London copywriting agency, and almost immediately decided to take acting lessons. His experience with them did not foretell an illustrious career.

“After a few lessons she sent me packing,” he said, referring to his teacher, renowned actress Martita Hunt. But by 1941, he had played 34 parts in 23 plays.