A History of the Director’s Cut – Part I

Once upon a time, such a thing known as a director’s cut was an object seldom seen, a rarity that was a cause for celebration and invited the curiosity of cinephiles the world over. But how did the notion of “director’s cuts” begin? In this first of two parts, we’ll be examining the earliest examples of such a concept.

Once upon a time, such a thing known as a director€™s cut was an object seldom seen, a rarity that was a cause for celebration and invited the curiosity of cinephiles the world over. With the DVD culture of today, much of the meaning has been robbed of this once-special term; with the infamous €œdouble dipping€€”re-issuing€”of home videos in the modern market place, it often takes €œspecial features€ to sway buyers to re-purchase a film, and so the hasty editing of a €œdirectors cut€, €œuncut€, €œextended edition€, or €œspecial edition€ is often used as a means of tickling viewers€™ buying bones. In the introduction to the 2003 DVD of Alien the directors cut, director Ridley Scott explains that the 1979 theatrical edition of his film is his preferred version and that the new cut was created at the request of Fox, who wanted a new edition of the film to market for the twenty-fifth anniversary. But how did the notion of €œdirector€™s cuts€ begin? In this first of two parts, we€™ll be examining the earliest examples of such a concept. Examples of multiple cuts of films can be found in abundance in early cinema history. Often, scenes would be added and deleted based on the initial reactions at the film€™s premiere, so a film might be different three or four weeks after its initial debut. Censorship was not as organized as it was today, and so often different prints would have different cuts with regards to content depending on the local laws, and when older films were re-released during World War II they were often edited further under the strict censorship of America€™s Hayes Code, which resulted in films like Frankenstein (1931) and King Kong (1933) remaining censored for many decades. Without home video, the only time audiences could see a film was in theaters€”oftentimes when films were theatrical re-issued a number of years after their initial release, additional re-tooling would be done, sometimes in an effort to shorten running time, and the older prints with additional scenes would become lost, leading to all subsequent duplicates based off one particular version. Metropolis(1927) is a perfect example of a multi-cut type of film, one that had scenes shuffled and re-edited for different re-releases and in different countries. Some of these scenes, old and damaged as they were, have been found from rare and foreign prints and now re-integrated back into the video version in an attempt to re-construct a complete version of the original release, while others have been lost forever. Phantom of the Opera, when it was first released in 1925, was received poorly, and so much of it was reshot to add comedic and romantic elements, which were received even more poorly when it was premiered, and so it was re-shaped once again (much of the original footage is now lost). Another terrific example of the multi-version releasing of cinema€™s obscure early period is D.W. Griffith€™s monumentalBirth of a Nation (1915). The legendary director€™s notorious pro-Klu Klux Klan film was highly controversial upon release, and when re-issued a number of years later had much of its content altered so as to be somewhat politically correct (a feeble attempt for a film that depicts the KKK as heroes of the American Civil war). Nonetheless, the film would cement its place in film history as a pioneering example in form and technique, but until recent home video only the truncated version of the film was available. However, movies in the early years of Hollywood were often controlled more strictly by producers, studios, and through distributive collaboration; there were not as many struggles of power with regards to the film€™s construction, because the director saw himself as a hired professional to oversee the filming of the studio€™s picture, and for the most part did not consider themselves €œowners€ of the film in the same sense as today. They were under multi-film contracts to the studio itself, and often were assigned films; Wizard of Oz (1939) was directed by three different people, with Victor Fleming replacing Richard Thorpe, and King Vidor finishing the picture when MGM assigned Fleming to direct Gone with the Wind (1939). Hence there are no real €œdirectors versions€ of the films of cinema€™s early period for the same reason that there are no €œwriter€™s versions€ of the films of today. While directors were still were powerful, influential and left an indelible person imprint on their films, the term €œdirectors cut€ implies a singular creative vision of the director€”the €œauteur€ theory, which did not truly come about until much later. This modern view of cinema states that films ultimately are the reflection of the director, and that he or she should be the singular creative force behind a film, something which wasn€™t so in these early days of Hollywood. One of most notorious examples of this new period comes from 1958, with Orson Welles€™ noir masterpiece Touch of Evil. One of the earlier examples of an €œauteur€ with his Citizen Kane (1941), Welles€™ films were a product of the director more than most of his contemporaries€”but unlike others of this era, such as John Ford, he was not fortunate enough to have €œcarte blanche€ by the studio. Beleaguered by a failing career, it is perhaps Welles€™ last hurrah, but one that he could not keep as his own vision€”his cut of the film was taken away by Universal studios and re-edited, and for years this was the only version of the film one could see. A €œdirectors cut€ of this film, however, still would not exist until the end of the century when such a concept was created. We€™ll return to this in part two. Italian maestro Sergio Leone also faced shorter American run-times when he was forced to take scenes out of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966) andOnce Upon a Time in the West(1968) for their USA debuts. It would be quite some time before a larger mass of film alterations would appear€”when filmmakers began to challenge content in the late 1960€™s and the MPAA rating system was created. The R-rating was one of three original classifications when the system was invented in 1968€”G, for all ages, PG for mature audiences (originally called M), and R for adult audiences only, plus an €œX€ for movies distributed without a rating. It was a short while before films arrived with content so risqué that they defied even the R-rating€” such as 1970€™s Midnight Cowboy. Director John Schlesinger refused to exercise any content, and so the film was released with an X. It won the Oscar for best picture and is the only film with such a rating to do so. By the 1970€™s content began to push even further the limits of acceptable content, and as audiences and censors accustomed to the new reality of the gritty and personal films of the €œNew Hollywood€, such content became normalised, and though horror films with extreme violence or sexual content still drew X ratings (such as Last House on the Left (1972), Dawn of the Dead(1979) or Cannibal Holocaust (1980) ) they were nonetheless allowed release and circulation. More often however, films opted for the R-rating, which meant some content censoring€”for example, 1976€™s Taxi Driver de-coloured its bloody finale so as to be less shocking. It was in this seminal period of the 1950€™s to the 1970€™s that the notion of the director as the €œauteur€ or author of a film would be forged€”thus leading to the practice of insisting that they have final and absolute control over the picture and giving rise to situations in which €œdirector€™s cuts€ could be later made. As you can see, although trims and earlier release versions of films existed that differed from the version in common circulation, such a thing as an €œextended version€ or a €œdirectors cut€ of a film did not properly exist, and certainly not as an actual advertised release. However, in 1977 a science-fiction film would be released that would eventually be re-issued in a much-ballyhooed €œspecial edition€ with new scenes and new special effects, and would pave the way for the trend of the future. If you said that film was Star Wars€”you€™d be wrong. I€™m talking about Steven Spielberg€™s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The film was the young hotshot€™s follow-up to Jaws(1975), the highest-grossing film of all time by 1977, and the studio had invested a big budget into the warm and spiritual blockbuster. But, of course, that other space picture made by one of his closest friends came out a few months earlier and stole the thunder for the rest of the year. Close Encountersmade a good haul at the box office and was surprisingly successful considering how dwarfed it was by Star Wars. By 1980, however, the market place was not as competitive as it had been that summer, and Spielberg approached the studio about re-filming and adding scenes as he originally had wanted to shoot, before time and budget constraints forced him into compromise. Columbia saw a terrific opportunity to re-release the film and re-claim the success it should have had three years before. Re-releasing successful films a year or two after their original run was common, and so to create additional draw Columbia agreed only if Spielberg would include shots showing the inside of the mothership, as the mysterious craft had generated much audience speculation as to its details, and new special effects were also added. In 1980 Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Special Edition was released. It was as successful as Columbia hoped, (and a third version of the film was made based off this when it was re-edited for home video) and with this came the first major instance of a film marketed for its content alterations from the original release versions. During the same time as this was occurring the personal films of the New Hollywood were reaching their peak€”and Michael Cimino was directing his follow up to 1978€™s sensation, The Deer Hunter. The resulting disaster would give us our first €œdirectors cut,€ the personal version from an auteur who lost control of his film. As the 1980€™s turned over, the home video revolution would occur€”and with it would come a new era of editorial control. Part Two will be online tomorrow.
 
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