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Adding deleted scenes is one thing; altering existing footage, though, is quite another. What Lucas did with the Greedo scene in Star Wars is inexcusable, but as more and more directors become giddy with the thought of playing God once again with their own creations, that example may prove to be the mere tip of a sullied iceberg. The base of that iceberg, though, would probably have to be Ridley Scott's 1982 Blade Runner. This sci-fi staple has been presented in various forms -- its original take, the more explicit European version, the much-ballyhooed 1992 "Director's Cut," plus a different "Director's Cut" possibly due on DVD later this year -- but despite all the hype surrounding Scott's "improvements" with the '92 model, there are still a few folks (I'm one; Entertainment Weekly's Owen Gleiberman is another) who believe the original version is still the best. I actually prefer the voice-over narration by Harrison Ford that was removed for the subsequent "Director's Cut," since it lent the piece more of the film noir flavor that Scott was obviously going for. (Of course, the irony here is that the voice-over was specifically added as a result of test audience screenings, although this was clearly an exception to the rule.)
Finally, what happened with the 30th Anniversary Night of the Living Dead on DVD goes beyond all known measures of depravity. One of the great modern horror films, George Romero's 1968 zombie epic was perfect just the way it was, thank you. But in 1998, some of the players involved with the original production (Romero was not among them) shot 15 minutes of new footage and clumsily inserted them into the existing film, thereby adding new characters (played by the worst actors this side of Reefer Madness) and altering both the film's classic beginning and equally classic ending. Not surprisingly, this cut is universally despised by film fans, but the fact that someone thought this was a good idea in the first place catapults the word "cluelessness" into an entirely new realm.
By comparison, Spielberg's modifications on E.T. are rather slight, but the fact that they were made in the first place is troubling to those who believe in preserving the integrity of cinema. For starters, Spielberg has decided to update the effects in numerous scenes, touching up matte background shots and using computer technology to, for instance, widen E.T.'s grin. But why? The film's Oscar-winning effects were perfectly OK for 1982 (they're still quite good), and using 2002 technology doesn't improve the quality of the picture in any way. In fact, part of the appeal of older fantasy flicks rests in the way their outdated effects bring a warm rush of nostalgia, as well as our admiration for the sweat that the artists put into their original conceptions. Following this new line of thinking implemented by Spielberg and Lucas, what's next? Updating the still-impressive effects in the 1933 King Kong so that the stop-motion animation is less jerky? Replacing the obviously fake vampire bats in Universal's Dracula flicks from the 30s and 40s with CGI-generated ones? Or how about going the whole nine yards by completely overhauling Ed Wood's 1959 mess-terpiece Plan 9 From Outer Space so that the spaceships look as convincing as those in Close Encounters of the Third Kind or Independence Day?
Of course, Spielberg didn't stop with the effects. Suddenly deciding that guns are bad and apparently should never, ever be shown again on the big screen, the man who gave us Raiders of the Lost Ark and Saving Private Ryan has digitally altered the few moments in the film where the government agents are seen holding revolvers. Look at this new version and presto! the guns have magically turned into walkie-talkies -- a harmless and even well-meaning change on the surface, but, coupled with the post-9/11 craze of removing shots of the World Trade Center from movies on the verge of being released, a chilling sign that even those out in supposedly liberal-to-the-core Hollywood aren't above engaging in Orwellian practices that ultimately serve no purpose but to subconsciously subvert our own expressions of free will.
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