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One by one, the students around me open up about an adolescent trauma they have in common. One is telling me about her first steps out of the closet.
"There was no way this thing could have lived up to our expectations. After the first time, I even lied to cover up my disappointment. I told my friends, 'It was great.' Everyone else was saying the same thing. But I was asking myself, 'Is there something wrong with me?' Finally we started asking each other, 'Were you let down too?' And it turned out that everyone felt the same way."
These undergraduates are remembering their first experience of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Some had camped out for days beforehand. All had left the theater with the uneasy feeling that something had gone horribly wrong. Instead of being initiated into the mystical power of the Force, they had endured demythologizing lectures on "Midichlorians" (a kind of spiritual mitochondria). Instead of a fumbling but earnest Luke Skywalker, they had met an irritatingly childish Anakin Skywalker. Instead of the comic relief of Han Solo and Chewbacca, they had met the dreadful wackiness of an amphibious donkey named Jar Jar Binks. Instead of being swept away to a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, they felt like they had just been taken in a minivan to a children's pizza joint.
Cut to Santa Clarita, California, where a Blockbuster customer, watching Episode I at home, had a thought worthy of Stanley Fish: Is there a film in this film? He pulled out his PowerMac, started up Final Cut Pro, loaded in the video, and got to work. When he finished, the film (retitled Star Wars Episode I.I: The Phantom Edit) was 20 minutes shorter and ten years more mature. Jar Jar's follies were cut ruthlessly. Anakin's outbursts were trimmed, making him a quieter, more thoughtful youngster. Midichlorians were marginal. There was less patronizing and confusing talk about trade federations and senatorial politics. Scenes were tighter. The distracting Jules Verne-like undersea travel sequence was gone. And the film was much better.
New opening text, receding into infinity as before, tells the story:
Anticipating the arrival of the newest Star Wars film, some fans, like myself, were extremely disappointed with the final product.
Being someone of the "George Lucas Generation," I have re-edited a standard VHS version of "The Phantom Menace" into what I believe is a much stronger film by relieving the viewer of as much story redundancy, pointless Anakin actions and dialog, and Jar Jar Binks as possible.
I created this version to bring new hope to a large group of Star Wars fans that felt unsatisfied by the seemingly misguided theatrical release of "The Phantom Menace."
To Mr. Lucas and those that I may offend with this re-edit, I am sorry :(
—THE PHANTOM EDITOR
thephantomedit@hotmail.com
Soon rumors were circulating through Star Wars circles of an underground "corrector's edition" that was truer to the Star Wars tradition than the commercial version.
Movies have long been cropped for video and edited for television. Ted Turner gained infamy in the Eighties for colorizing mgm classics. Even "fan edits" are nothing new. People have been excerpting films since the sixteen-millimeter era. Fritz Lang's Metropolis is available in color, with a rock-opera soundtrack. But The Phantom Edit is more than just a fan edit. On behalf of the "George Lucas Generation," the Phantom Editor is asserting the community's authority over its own canon. He is claiming that he is better than George Lucas at telling the story.
A long time ago in a country far, far away, similar currents surged through another turbulent young community. There another anonymous disciple appropriated the work of others on behalf of needy readers, fueling a critical fire that rages today more than ever. Visualize the opening words of Luke scrolling into a starry sky:
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