Despite the fact that it’s not much more than a fairy tale with robots and rayguns, Star Wars has had a profound and lasting impact on my life. I remember, with crystal clarity, sitting in a movie theater as a 6-year-old, watching with mouth agape as a spaceship elegantly flew into view. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, at least until the gargantuan Star Destroyer arrived, filling the screen. That was the moment that made me a lifelong fan of science fiction, space travel and the possibility of worlds beyond our own. It’s not an overstatement to say that Star Wars played a major role in making me who I am today. It also eventually led me to commit a crime.
I love all three of the films in the original trilogy (yes, even Jedi), but Star Wars is particularly special to me. It’s the one that kick-started my imagination and made me realize that princesses could do more than just look for Prince Charming. It taught me about friendship, and loyalty, and standing up for what you think is right, even when the odds are against you. Not that I really understood all of that at the time – I was just a kid, after all – but I can trace many of the values I currently hold dear back to that darkened movie theater. Even though it’s just a movie, and a flawed one at that, Star Wars is an intrinsic part of who I am; I can no more separate myself from my feelings for it than I can unravel my strands of DNA.
When I heard that George Lucas was creating a Special Edition of Star Wars that would be closer to his original vision for the film, I thought it made sense. Star Wars was an incredibly ambitious movie when it came to visual effects, and sometimes its reach overshot the grasp of ’70s-era technology. Using modern techniques to clean up some of the movie’s rougher edges seemed like a great idea to me. I envisioned Lucas’s reworking of Star Wars to be similar to an art restorer carefully cleaning the grime of centuries off the Mona Lisa. Unfortunately, Lucas didn’t just clean the grime off the Mona Lisa: He gave her a nose ring and a pink Mohawk while he was at it.
In addition to graphically inserting extra scenery and characters, the Special Edition of Star Wars included a ridiculous scene with a slimmed down Jabba the Hutt and had Greedo shooting first in the cantina – to make Han less of a rogue, I guess. As offensive as I found both of those “improvements,” what really became the focus of my rage was the ring Lucas added to the explosion of the Death Star. I don’t quite understand why it bothers me so – perhaps because it’s vertical instead of horizontal – but the mere sight of it angered me to the point that I vowed never, ever to allow the Special Edition of Star Wars into my home.
As time wore on and the viability of VHS passed, I patiently waited for Lucas to release the original trilogy on DVD, certain that his marketing savvy – I’ll be gracious and not call it flat-out greed – would prompt him to release the untouched versions alongside the Special Edition. It seemed to me to be a win-win; every Star Wars fan would get the version he or she preferred, and Lucas would get an even bigger pile of cash to add to his money bin. Besides, the films had already appeared in other video formats, such as Laserdisc, so bringing them to DVD seemed the next logical step.
Sadly, I underestimated Lucas’s disdain for his own legacy. Millions may have grown up committing every moment of Star Wars to loving memory, but Lucas himself was never really happy with the movie. Limited time and resources kept him from fully realizing his artistic vision, a frustration that the Special Edition revamps were created to correct. Back in the ’70s, when he was still a relative nobody, he had to live with the dissatisfaction of a movie he couldn’t help but see as hopelessly flawed; but after 20 years of success, he figured he didn’t have to settle any longer, and decided that the original, untouched versions of Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi would not be coming to DVD. If you wanted to watch the Star Wars trilogy on DVD, it was the Special Edition or nothing.
I was furious.
You may think I’m overreacting, and you’re probably right. If I’m being completely honest, I must recognize that my burning hatred of the Special Edition achieves temperatures that only the most hotheaded fanboys can generate. Does it really matter how the Death Star blows up, so long as it does blow up?
I wasn’t really reacting to the digital alterations, of course, but rather to a sudden and overwhelming sense of loss that I had never experienced before. The house in which I grew up not only still stands, but my mother still lives there. My childhood haunts, from my elementary school, to the park, to the mall, have all remained remarkably unchanged since my age was a single digit. My mental snapshots of that perfect, happy, innocent time in my life are still largely intact, right down to the gold shag carpeting that still adorned my bedroom floor.
Star Wars, which served as the backbone for so many of my childhood adventures and interests, was therefore the first of my childhood landmarks to be taken from me. Even worse, it was being taken from me by the very man who had given it to me in the first place. George Lucas, who I considered a personal hero, who I admired so deeply, was breaking my heart for no other reason than to serve his own vanity. I understood his desire to stay true to his original intentions for the movie, but the way he turned his back on the theatrical release – and those of us who loved it – felt to me like the cruelest of betrayals.
Finding the original movies on VHS rapidly became incredibly difficult, as box sets disappeared from shelves and prices on eBay shot skyward. The set of videos I had cavalierly left behind when I split up with my ex became harder and harder to replace. After finally deciding that I had no other choice but to cough up the jacked-up fee being asked by heartless hucksters, I began to browse eBay looking for a box set of tapes that hopefully hadn’t seen too much use. Instead, I found the temptation to join the Dark Side.
In between the auctions for videotapes, I found listing after listing for bootleg DVDs of the original trilogy. These weren’t hasty transfers shoved unceremoniously into slipcases, either; they were copies of the Laserdisc editions of the movies that had been released in the 1990s, complete with full-color covers and separate discs of bonus material. There, for a mere $50, was the real Star Wars on DVD, and all I had to do to make it mine was click a link and break the law.
I want to make it clear that I don’t condone piracy that doesn’t involve copious amounts of rum and saying “savvy” a lot. I pay for the music I download, I don’t copy games and I would never, ever rebroadcast a Phillies game without the express written consent of Major League Baseball. Buying a bootleg DVD goes squarely against my personal code of ethics, but the more I considered the situation, the more I was sure I was off the moral hook. I would happily have handed over my money for a legal copy of Star Wars on DVD, but not only did one not exist, it was never going to. Perhaps I was merely trying to justify my actions. Perhaps I was simply being petty and selfish. Or perhaps, as is often the case, I had blown the importance of my quest so wildly out of proportion that I was willing to do anything to complete it. (See also: what some people will do to get a Wii.)
Whatever the case, click I did, and soon the movies were mine. The picture and sound are quite good, and the bonus discs, for which I paid $5 extra, have some time capsule-esque documentaries. (Make all the jokes you like about Indiana Jones and the Terror of the Broken Hip, but thirty years ago, Harrison Ford was the man.) They’re not absolutely perfect, but they’re remarkably well done, just the same. Most importantly, Han shoots first, Jabba doesn’t show up until Jedi, and the Death Star still explodes with a tiny little “pfft.”
Lucas did eventually release the original trilogy on DVD, bundling it together with his much beloved Special Editions in 2006. Amusingly enough, this rerelease wasn’t copied from the original masters, but rather taken from the Laserdiscs, just like mine were. His packaging is nicer, to be sure, and the overall presentation is undoubtedly more polished and slick. I’m still happy with my ill-gotten gains, however. My bootleg trilogy might not be legal, it might not be perfect, it might have an ugly smudge under Luke’s land speeder to hide the wheels, but it does what George Lucas won’t: It shows respect for the undying love of a 6-year-old sitting in a dark movie theater.
