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E.T. is Steven Spielberg at his most emotionally affecting/manipulative (delete according to personal preference). Despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that it was for some time the highest-grossing film ever, it has accumulated its fair share of detractors since its original 1982 release. This was reflected in the disappointing takings of its 20th anniversary cinematic re-release, contrasting with the huge success of the Star Wars special editions five years earlier. It certainly has not attracted the devotion of Lucas' franchise, but it was never intended to be a comparable film: E.T. is a small-scale story about a boy becoming best friends with an alien (as if you didn't know). It proves more than any other film the strengths and weaknesses of Spielberg the filmmaker - what some will find mawkish and overly sentimental, others find touching and heartbreaking. There can be little arguing, however, that it's a slick and polished exercise in cinematic craftmanship.
Spielberg came up with the basic plot while brainstorming for Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and some have even suggested that E.T. is a sequel of sorts to his 70s sci-fi success. Both films share the obvious "friendly aliens" conceit but other than that they are quite different in tone - Close Encounters is surprisingly dark in places, whereas E.T. is entirely more playful. That is not to say that the 1982 film does not get serious on occasion, however, and many people will testify to finding the moment when E.T. falls ill quite disturbing, particularly if they were young when they first watched the film. The fact that the focus of the film is on children is what gives the film its emotional edge over its predecessor, although it could have been a damaging weakness. Children are notoriously difficult to coax good performances out of, but Spielberg manages it superbly. His task was no doubt made easier by some perfect casting choices. All the young leads, including the natural Henry Thomas and the utterly disarming 6-year-old Drew Barrymore, deliver wonderful performances, managing to avoid the creepy Dakota Fanning über-kid realm.
Also in evidence is Spielberg's growth as a filmmaker. Whereas Close Encounters is rather rambling at times, E.T., which was Spielberg's next film after the outstanding Raiders of the Lost Ark, never loses momentum, maintaining concentration on the intimate core of its story throughout, while a lean 110-minute running time keeps the pacing tight. Also at the peak of his powers, as he had been for at least a good 7 years by this point (dating back to Jaws), is musical genius John Williams, who delivers a beautiful, haunting score. His unbroken 15-minute musical finale is probably the most important reason why the climax of the film provides such a thrill and also strikes such emotional chords. In a career of highlights, it's impossible to name his best work - but this must be near the top. Spielberg cites E.T. as his most personal work, despite not receiving writing credit (it's pretty clear that it's his brainchild), and that shines through. More cynical viewers may not discover E.T.'s charms, but they are missing out.
The extras
On disc 1 there is no commentary but Spielberg does offer a brief introduction to this 20th Anniversary Edition of the film. The premiere of the re-release featured the musical score performed live, conducted by John Williams himself, and there is the option to choose that as an alternate audio track (amazingly, it's almost impossible to hear any differences, other than the occasional sound of audience applause and laughing).
Disc 2's main feature is a 50-minute documentary, "The Evolution and Creation of E.T.", directed by Spielberg's usual behind-the-scenes go-to guy, Laurent Bouzereau. Unlike some well-remembered films, E.T.'s production comes across as remarkably smooth and trouble-free, making for possibly a less interesting story but still an extremely interesting doc. John Williams is the deserving focus of a 10-minute featurette about the creation of the music. The rest of the extras are basically fluff, but still mostly worth watching: there's a retrospective 20-minute interview with the director and principal cast in which they reminisce together, a featurette about the aforementioned 20th Anniversary premiere, the trailer and some photo galleries. There's also a resoundingly pointless "Tour the Solar System" feature in which you can select a planet and then listen to some bloke talking about it doing an E.T. impression, which is just irritating. The good stuff that is here is very good, but there could have been more of it, and it would have been nice to include Harrison Ford's famous deleted scene (just glimpsed in the documentary).
There was also a 3-disc limited edition, now out of print, which included the film's original version. Purists may object to the special edition's minor changes, and admittedly some of the new CG tweaks are distracting.
The summary
E.T. epitomises what some critics and academics despise about post-70s Hollywood: it appeals, as was intended, to the heart rather than to the head. But E.T. is a remarkable example of the very best that childlike exuberance can bring.
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