GemCaley

E.T. Gets His Guns Back

Anyone for whom the 1982 film “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial” is a treasured childhood memory will have shared my rage when, back in 2002, Steven Spielberg and his producer Kathleen Kennedy digitally disarmed the cops pursuing the cute alien and his human pal, replacing their firearms with walkie-talkies. At the time, Ms Kennedy had worked hard to placate fans, explaining that Spielberg had always regretted the presence of weapons in the film and had thought it nonsensical that police would have tooled up to go chasing children (um, children and an alien, and this is America, but hey, who am I to stereotype?). This edit, one of many made for the theatrical re-release of the movie to mark its 20^th anniversary, has been lambasted and quite shamelessly parodied since, particularly by the satirical geniuses behind South Park (the “Free Hat” episode). And there’s a good reason for the reaction: swapping out guns for walkie-talkies was a damn silly thing to do, and quite frankly smacked of an aging man getting embarrassingly jiggy with new technology in an attempt to reconnect wiv da kidz.

Well, it would seem that over the next nine years Mr Spielberg had a change of heart, and by 2011 had admitted that he regretted this “pointless” alteration of what is arguably his greatest film ever. (Seems Spielberg has a lot of regrets – I hope the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is one of them.) I’m sure that fans and geeks everywhere will be ecstatic to hear that, in the 30^th anniversary Blu-ray edition of ET, which will be released in Autumn 2012, the walkie-talkies are out and the guns are back in. Hell, I’m happy enough, and I don’t even have a Blu-ray player.

I can understand that directors, like many artists, are rarely wholly satisfied with their finished product and are often itching to tinker with it – take Picasso, for example, who would keep paintings back, sometimes for years, in order to continue adding to them – or Leonardo da Vinci, who reputedly said that art is never finished, only abandoned. But when your work has had such a positive effect on so many people, shouldn’t you just be content? With that level of impact, is it even really “yours” to tinker with anymore? Or do you make like Mr Lucas and insist that “my movie, with my name on it, that says I did it, needs to be the way I want it”? There are those who say that art is inherently selfish, but when you sell your art to others, it kinda becomes theirs.

Giving Prisoners The Vote?

The UK is apparently fighting a losing battle to prevent inmates from gaining the right to vote in general elections. The European Court of Human Rights, which ruled back in 2005 that the UK’s longstanding blanket ban on prisoner voting was “unlawful”, recently reiterated its ruling and gave Britain six months to set the relevant wheels of compliance in motion. Failure to do so could result in hefty legal costs for the government, but complying with the ECHR’s decision is certain to get MPs a-grumblin’ – particularly in view of last year’s motion opposing the ruling, which passed with support to the practically unanimous tune of 234 votes to 22 and no doubt caused ministers a headache when attempting to explain this response to Strasbourg. David Cameron made things no easier, being quoted as saying that the very idea of prisoners being allowed to vote made him feel “physically ill”. The PM’s delicate stomach notwithstanding, this is an interesting debate and by no means a clear-cut issue.

Now, I’m sure this is a naive and simplistic view, but I thought that prisons were where societies put people who had revealed themselves to be incapable of behaving according to a general set of rules upheld by the majority, and who were therefore required to be temporarily removed from that society until deemed fit to re-enter, with such terms being determined in accordance with the nature and severity of their crime. Not being a legal expert, I nevertheless hope that this is an adequate enough summation for the purposes of this article.

It is a notion held by many individuals that, if a member of society breaches the rights of others with their actions, they should in turn have their own rights impinged upon in some way. This would seem to be the main function of correctional facilities – and, in the view of many people, the overriding purpose of such. So, would it not logically follow that those who have removed themselves from society and forfeited certain rights – such as the rights to walk around unhindered and live in a house – also lose their right to add their opinion to the way in which that society is run? Seems straightforward enough.

But there’s a reason I used the term “correctional facilities” just then. For the overwhelming majority, prisons are also institutions in which inmates may be (and often are) rehabilitated, in order that they can at some point rejoin society and become productive members thereof. For those serving shorter sentences, those showing genuine remorse and a willingness to reform, those due for imminent release… shouldn’t they have the right to be included in the business of shaping the society they’re going to be rejoining?

Justice Secretary Ken Clarke, somewhat unsurprisingly, had an interesting view on the matter, and prior to last year’s vote on the motion to oppose the European ruling had urged MPs and ministers to not contest the decision. However, the main thrust of his argument seemed to be that, if the UK did not comply, it would face costly compensation claims brought by prisoners – did MPs really want to risk having to explain to their constituents why exactly so much taxpayer money was being paid out to criminals? Better to just comply with the ECHR’s decision, Mr Clarke suggested – voting is a right that prisoners “probably wouldn’t bother to exercise if we gave it to them.” Given that voter turnout for the 2010 General Election was only 65%, he may have a point. (Labour activist Emma Burnell, blogging on TotalPolitics.com, argues for voting to be compulsory, like jury duty. She may have a point, too.) As an update to Mr Clarke’s opinion, the ECHR has said that, if the UK removes its blanket ban and agrees upon a set of criteria by which some prisoners will be allowed to vote, then it will dismiss the 2,500 or so human rights cases currently being brought by UK inmates, thus protecting the UK from the otherwise likely risk of paying compensation to such complainants. Quite an incentive to comply, I think.

However, it seems that the ban on prisoners voting is one of those issues that has garnered cross-party agreement – Ed Balls has said that the ECHR’s ruling was “the wrong thing” and that Labour will support any action by the Coalition to oppose the decision (after all, it was Labour that was in power when the landmark judgment was initially passed). I would almost hope that politicians’ reticence is merely an indignant, knee-jerk reaction to Europe attempting to force a change in UK law – the alternative is that no senior political figures in our country consider those incarcerated in our prison system worthy of basic rights. The vast majority of prisoners will be returning to society sooner or later – some of them following a term of wrongful imprisonment, such as the recently released Sam Hallam, who spent over seven years in jail after a miscarriage of justice saw him wrongfully convicted of murder. Wrongful convictions are far more common in the UK than we would like to believe and, due to their often routine nature, rarely make the news. The right to vote, as with other rights debated in a court when a person has broken the law, should be decided on an individual basis – tarring all criminals with the same no-vote brush is akin to suggesting that a petty thief is as bad as a serial killer. In short, it is simply not fair.

Our legal system has long been in need of an overhaul; perhaps the perceived inference of the European court is necessary for change in the UK. How to apply the ruling in practical terms, however, is going to be complicated, and balancing the requirements of the ECHR with the wishes of our MPs is sure to be a delicate and longwinded task.

A Question of Sport Sponsorship

On Saturday 19 May, at 11.30am (or thereabouts), the Olympic Flame was borne down the central street of Falmouth, a small but busy student town in Cornwall. The golden torch was held aloft by Gavin Cattle, captain of Cornwall’s only professional rugby team, the Cornish Pirates. The street was lined both sides with excited spectators; police officers had their work cut out just trying to keep people out of the path of approaching vehicles. The air of anticipation was palpable, yet restrained, as we Brits are wont to be.

With half a dozen others I watched the proceedings from the first-floor window of a flat on the main street, which afforded front-row seats, as it were. (Well, front row and up a bit. You could say we were in the Gods, in fact. I’m sure the original Olympians would have approved.) I had been feeling cynical about the Olympics (cynical? As a Londoner, I’ve been positively dreading it), but sitting here, looking out at the smiling faces in the sunshine, I had to grudgingly admit to feeling a little bit excited – feeling as though I were about to witness history.

The Olympic torch was scheduled to pass by our window at 11am, but (as is common with such events) it turned up a little later than expected. It probably could have reached us a good few minutes earlier, however, had Mr Cattle not been preceded by the Games’ ridiculous sponsorship entourage, comprising The Coca Cola Bus (replete with weary employees waving half-heartedly and shouting “Woo!”), the Samsung wagon, the BMW contingent, the Lloyds TSB truck, and several other vehicles marked simply “London 2012”, each bearing their own little glut of grinning, waving who-are-theys. The torch-bearer, bless ‘im, bringing up the rear, was almost an anticlimax by comparison.

My earlier cynicism was back. I could’ve sworn the Olympics was supposed to celebrate athletic excellence, not capitalist might…? We had gathered at this window to watch one of 8,000 honoured members of the British public take part in the Torch Relay, which was meant to be a way of saying that it is Britain, not just London, that is hosting the 2012 Olympics. To be blunt, what the blue hell does Coke have to do with that?!

I realise the Games is a massive event and that the money to pay for it has to come from somewhere, but these huge displays of corporate wallop are tacky and embarrassing. One of my friends pointed out that the small British flags being handed out during the procession had Samsung branding on the reverse, and opined that America, for example, would never dare deface its own flag in the name of corporate sponsorship. (The Cornish flags among the crowds were unadorned, by the way.) I’m not particularly patriotic, but I must admit, my friend had a point. However, as the Olympic Games is itself a brand (we all know the five rings logo), I doubt that we’ll ever see a return to Olympics free from intrusive corporate content. Perhaps I should just be glad that the money still exists to fund the Games. I just wish that the sponsors could be a bit more… restrained.

A Measure of Confusion

The increasing panic to get the UK – or at the very least London – looking spruced and respectable in time for the Olympics has shown itself in the somewhat unexpected form of Lord Howe of Aberavon (former Foreign Secretary under our own rust-topped Iron Lady of the 80s, Maggie Thatcher), as he demanded that the UK stop “dithering” and make the full switch from the imperial to the metric system of measurement before our Continental guests come over and laugh at us.

In a rant worthy of Enoch Powell (well, almost), Lord Howe claimed that the UK’s reluctance to pick one system over the other and stick to it “increases cost, confuses shoppers, leads to serious misunderstandings, causes accidents, confuses our children’s education and, quite bluntly, puts us all to shame.”

Aside from the laughable irony of a Lord calling for Britain to cast off the shackles of the Empire, I think that perhaps Howe is overreacting. I grew up with both systems and, whilst I couldn’t immediately tell you how many gallons to the litre (or even how many pints to the gallon, if I’m honest), I know well enough the measurements I need to use regularly and I can look up the ones I don’t (mille grazie, Google). Metric has been gradually replacing Imperial without children coming home from school in floods of tears, and presumably it will continue to do so until we’re all working exclusively in units of ten. If things have been happening organically and with minimal trauma, why try to push through a change now?

As a member of Howe’s “rudderless and bewildered majority”, floundering helplessly in a sea of grams and ounces, I would also call into question the wisdom of attempting to rush such a huge change through in time for the Olympics – if this were to happen, I imagine that foreign visitors really would see a lot of confused and befuddled Brits. Personally, the uncertainty over whether London’s transport network will be able to cope with the massive influx of humans is more than enough to be worrying about at this late stage (particularly if you’re a regular commuter into the capital). Add to that the allegation that someone recently challenged the security of the Olympic site by smuggling a fake bomb in, and I doubt that complaints over the serving of pints vs half-litres will even make the Oddly Enough column. It’s too big an undertaking to attempt in too little time. It’d be like deciding to repaint the kitchen an hour before the dinner-party.

Home Office minister Lord Henley, who was involved in the recent debate over the use of these two systems, was quoted as saying that he wasn’t convinced that the British public saw any real need to change the status quo. I would go further and suggest that the British public doesn’t even care.

The image of an esteemed Life Peer and experienced politician worrying that smug visitors from the mainland will be wandering around London this summer, discussing the failings of our measurement system in hushed tones behind cupped hands, is bizarre and ridiculous. Moreover, Howe’s assertion that our dual system will confuse visitors is nothing short of offensive.

Perhaps Lord Howe’s zeal is fuelled solely by a selfless desire to help strangers; more likely, though, his national pride is the driving force (another spot of irony, there).

Or maybe he just objects on aesthetic grounds to those rulers that have inches up one edge and centimetres down the other.