Grade: A-

Verdict: Pretty much the same as it ever was. And just as good.

Details: Starring Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore and E.T. Directed by Steven Spielberg. Rated PG for mild violence. At metro theaters. 2 hours.

Rate it: Write your own review

Review: In 1982, Ronald Reagan was President. Leonardo DiCaprio was 8 years old. And E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial was on the cover of the "Rolling Stone."

In the glare of the movie's 20th-anniversary re-release, it's hard to convey the amazement and delight that first greeted Steven Spielberg's heart-tugging tale of an odd little alien lost, stranded in a galaxy far, far away from his home. At the time, Spielberg was known as a thrill-o-matic director, a techno-whiz who specialized in adrenalin-rush flicks like "Jaws" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark." The nearest thing he'd done to one from the heart was "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," with a rapturously space-crazy Richard Dreyfuss on the trail of an alien visitation. Spielberg was a kinetic wunderkind, roman. with the sort of movie-mad jones that can't be taught.

Then came the summer of '82. With "Poltergeist," which he produced, Spielberg showed us that he could still make us jump. But with "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial," he showed us that he could make us feel.

To celebrate the movie's 20th anniversary, Universal has re-released "E.T." It's 90 percent the same film we saw two decades ago — the one the director still says is his favorite. Yet again, the stumpy little spaceman is stranded on Earth when his spaceship is forced to take off without him. Yet again, he's befriended and dubbed ''E.T." by Elliott (the terrific Henry Thomas), a lonely boy who, after his parents' separation, is still trying to cope with the figurative loss of his own home. Yet again, he scares the bejesus out of Elliott's little sister, Gertie (Drew Barrymore, with star charisma to spare).

It's still the same old story. And that's a good thing. The picture's working title was "A Boy's Life," and certainly, on one level, that's precisely what it is — a tender yet rousing parable of childhood's inevitable surrender to adulthood.

To underscore his theme, Spielberg has the mother (Dee Wallace) read "Peter Pan" aloud to Gertie. The first time Keys (Peter Coyote) — the one adult who wishes on stars too — sees Elliott, the boy is reflected in his space helmet, a lovely visual reminder of the dormant child in all of us.

That slumbering child-self is as central to the movie as the symbiotic friendship between Elliott and E.T. Spielberg understands the sacred sanctuary that is a child's room. He understands Elliott's sense of proprietary rights to E.T. (The boy responds to Gertie's interest as if she were trying to borrow his new bicycle.) He understands the half-teasing, half-loving attitude of Elliott's older brother (Robert MacNaughton, with delightfully crooked teeth).

Most telling of all is the wondrous image Spielberg later adopted as the logo for his Amblin Entertainment production company: a flying bicycle silhouetted against a full moon, reminiscent of a scene from the work of that most childlike of cinema pioneers, Georges Mèliéès.

What's the big deal about this anniversary editon? As usual, the print has been given a new-technology makeover. The sound has been spruced up, and many of E.T's movements, notably his face, have been digitally enhanced.

Plotwise, there's an added scene or two — most notably E.T. splish-splashing in a bath. Pretty inoffensive, like something you'd expect to see on the director's-cut DVD.

More of a politically correct pain in the butt are two needless alterations. In the new version, the federal agents trying to capture E.T. brandish walkie-talkies instead of guns. The moment is so brief that you have to wonder whether anyone ever noticed there were guns there in the first place. (Spielberg says he did.) It's doubtful that the sight of a few gun-waving feds would be traumatic to most of today's kids, who handle "The Lord of the Rings" or "Harry Potter" with barely a shudder.

The second change offers a curious sociological observation. In the original, we hear Wallace telling MacNaughton on Halloween, "You're not going out like that. You look like a terrorist!" Now "terrorist" has been replaced by "hippie." Not only is the cross-cultural parallel awkward, but here's how MacNaughton is dressed: in combat fatigues with a sleeveless black T-shirt, smudged attack blackface paint and a knife through his head. Boy, nothing says Age of Aquarius like a knife through the head.

Why go see "E.T" in the theater after seeing it a dozen times at home? Because it is in the theater, and you can give your child (or grandchild) a true taste of the film's movie-size enchantment. Because, in this teched-up age where special effects edge out things like plot and character, you can remind yourself, as you watch Carlo Ramboldi's almost quaint little robotic puppet, that the most special effect is on the heart, not the eye. And finally, because . . . it's there.

One last, important thing: The picture's most famous line is "E.T. phone home," as the little alien begs to communicate with his planet. But the line that gives you a lump in the throat is when he points his lighted forefinger at Elliott's forehead and says, "I'll be right here."

What you may not remember (I didn't) is that Elliott says that latter phrase first. In fact, he says it on two different occasions, when E.T. is especially afraid. Isn't that reassurance the essence of childhood? Being told that we don't have to be afraid? That E.T. or Uncle Steven or somebody is looking out for us?

— Eleanor Ringel Gillespie, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution