you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

All right, let's clear a few things up right here, right now. Have a seat. Canape? Truffle? Boston Carver sandwich? Okay, fine, fine.

We might be here a while, though. Just so you know.

Well then. So. The changes George Lucas has made to the original Star Wars trilogy? With all that new CG and removal of the Yub-Yub song and Greedo shooting first and whatnot? Yes, it's annoying and smacks of revisionism and makes some of us miss the original versions which were endearing with their intricate hand-crafted models and visible mattes. (Though there are some who are more than happy to see the Yub-Yub song go, and you know who you are, and that's quite all right.)

And yes, I don't find the newer series as fun as the old ones, partly due to all the needless technological flash surrounding them and partly due to the fact that Hayden Christensen can't act his way out of a paper bag. But I'll also be the first to admit this viewpoint is obscured through the rosy-tinted veil of nostalgia, as I remember being awed as a kid by the first films on the big screen and any bad bits of acting by Mark Hamill or anyone else were glossed over in favor of the exciting action fights! and the fact that, at the tender age of 6, I really wasn't looking at the acting with a critical eye. (I honestly didn't see Luke as a whiny farmboy brat until 1993, when I saw all three films in a row with an audience of receptive yet mocking fans -- I also joined the Impromptu Wedge Antilles Fan Club because the two guys behind me kept cheering every time he showed up. But when Luke whined "Aw, but I wanted to go to Taschi Station to pick up some power converters!" the entire place just howled.)

And Steven Spielberg's revisionist E.T. with guns changed to walkie-talkies and the line "You look like a terrorist" changed to "You look like a hippie" because of post-9/11 tension? Yeah, that's really annoying as well, compounded further by the fact that it's nigh-impossible to get an decent quality version of the movie you liked without having to sit through what feels like a truly condescending change of content. This, too, has a bias of nostalgia, as I remember sitting in the theater being actively frightened of the authority figures pursuing E.T. with guns -- I may not have thought they'd shoot him, but the images produced were menacing enough to give real relief when he does in fact get away. (I don't remember the "terrorist" line, though.)

Okay, so on the whole I don't like the changes, either. This is where we agree. At least, I don't like the changes when they're presented as How Things Should Have Been, thus removing the availability of the films without the changes. I like having a choice and being able to make it myself.

But this is where we part ways, my little reactionary friend. For, you see, while I can view said changes with distaste, I will never, and I repeat, never, for one second, make the increasingly popular claim you seem to like making, that "George Lucas raped my childhood."

Steven Spielberg, as well, did not "rape my childhood." Nor did anybody involved with "X-Treme Ghostbusters" nor anybody involved with any other current cartoon remake I don't like nor any pornographic furry who draws naked pictures of Gadget from Rescue Rangers (and a hearty hello to those who are now just joining us via Google.) Nobody's childhood is being raped here. Honestly. Not even in the classical sense; I mean, George Lucas didn't come down in the form of a swan and abduct my childhood from where it was picking flowers by the stream. (And if you do mean the word 'rape' in its modern violent and brutal context, I have to wonder exactly how lightly you view the term, as well as the act to which it refers.)

All George Lucas did with his Star Wars Special Edition is to show me that sometimes, where filmmakers think they're wrong, I think they're right -- however, he has the power and money to go back and fix his "mistakes". I don't have the power nor the money nor the right, even, to unfix them for him.

So he changed films of which I have pleasant memories.

Big deal.

I still have them.

I still love the older versions of Episodes 4-6, I loved them as a kid, and I have many happy memories of playing with Star Wars action figures and choosing characters to play on the playground (Han Solo or nothing, baby) and pretending my clunky old bike was a real live speeder bike and thinking that the car's high beams in a snowstorm at night made it look like we were going through hyperspace.

These memories are indelible. Nobody can go back and change them. I can't, you can't, George Lucas can't. They're mine and I'm proud to have them. I know I can never go back and re-live them, and the now-canon Special Edition makes that sadly clear. But do I believe that because a film -- a piece of celluloid, for crying out loud -- has been changed, that my childhood, my youthful sense of wonder, and most importantly, my happy memories, have been completely and irrevocably destroyed for all time?

(That's a rhetorical question there.)

We live in uncertain times, and my generation is now learning first-hand exactly how powerful childhood memories can be to ease our worries and bring us back to a simpler era twenty-plus years ago when we had far fewer major troubles. (This in itself has been tinted too rosy by the nostalgia; can you remember any worry or problem you had as a kid that wasn't escalated in your mind to a Major End Of The World Event? Bug bites! Bad neighbor dog! Bullies! "BUT MOM, I'M STAR-AR-AR-AR-ARV-ING!!") We cling to our happier memories, we uphold them and even worship them with clinically reverent webpages, and, as evidenced by the hordes of angry comments flying around movie websites, viciously defend them whenever we feel they're being threatened. This, of course, is normal, but really, a hyperbolic kneejerk reaction is not. At least it shouldn't be.

So what can you do? You can keep your memories. Keep them close to you where they will do you the most good. Think back when you can to some good time and let it brighten your spirits or help you put things into perspective.

But for the love of Pete, don't curse the name of George Lucas or Steven Spielberg or whomever else and condemn them for ruining and "raping" your memories. They haven't. They honestly haven't. They care not about doing anything to your memories, positive or negative, because they're too busy catering to theirs. Using a term like "rape" only cheapens your complaints and makes you out to be a selfish whiner who really has no good argumentative acumen. You're really only repeating the phrase because you heard someone else use it and think "Oh gosh, that's sooooooooooo right," didn't you? Well, perhaps it's not. Think about it.

I make this appeal for several reasons; one because I'm sick and tired of reading the phrase in online discussions of popular media. I also make this appeal because of the news that Christopher Lee is upset about Saruman being cut from the Return of the King theatrical release. Peter Jackson desperately wishes to shorten down the final cut of the final film so that the less hardy of us won't need catheters or nothing while watching and while he plans on finishing the whole Saruman/Wormtongue/Dude, Where's My Palantir? plot with the DVD release, as it stands right now moviegoers will have to make some assumptions about events taking place between The Two Towers and Return when they watch the film in the theater.

Me, I'm sad that Christopher Lee's sad; he's the biggest Tolkien fan there is and the only one in the entire production who ever met JRR Tolkien himself. I also know he is not entirely without ego and this is undoubtedly a very upsetting turn of events for him, losing his beloved Saruman scenes in the last picture. But do you think he'll accuse Peter Jackson of raping anything?

Nobody's saying you have to like changes. Nobody's saying you have to be happy with this change. I myself won't be happy about the LOTR changes, since it will contain a scene that I've been waiting to see on the big screen. So don't be happy about it. Complain if you wish -- but complain about the fact that it might be bad for the narrative structure, or that it slights Christopher Lee, or that it may raise questions in the minds of those who have seen the films but not read the books yet, or that, like me, you were kinda hoping to see it happen up there in the theater.

But, I swear to God, if you complain that, by omitting this scene and/or making other changes to the Lord of the Rings story in his adaptation, Peter Jackson violently threw down your childhood and had his way with it, I'll ... I'll ... well, I'll do something that isn't a hyperbolic kneejerk reaction to your hyperbolic kneejerk reaction. (By that, I mean I won't beat you up, or come pay you a visit, or motion that you be dragged out into the street and shot. I've learned these reactions never serve any constructive purpose.) I may just think you're another one of those selfish whiners and go on to the next post or thread or message or whatever.

But that's, like, just my opinion, man.

Take care, and don't eat anything you shouldn't.

R. Noyes
Somerville, Massachusetts
02143