Imagine if we could go beyond exercising control of our individual critical faculties. Suppose, in addition to reading things differently, we could re-write them. Imagine if we could make the most powerful images in our world more to our liking, more relevant to our lives. Would this be such a radical change in our mediascapes and consciousnesses? Until the rise of fixed and legally protected media products like television shows and feature films, humans had the power to adapt and re-use elements of their cultures. American communities quickly adopted Harriett Beecher Stowe's novel "Uncle Tom's Cabin" to the local stage and undermined its abolitionist messages. Uncle Tom was soon a stock comic character in minstrel shows. Stowe gave birth to Uncle Tom but America kidnapped him, changing him into something she would neither recognize nor celebrate. Those are the risks of releasing messages upon the world. An author cannot control how a character, idea, or plot will be read, re-fashioned, or criticized. But copyright law's restrictions on the production of derivative works and the integrity of the original work alter that dynamic somewhat.
More than copyright, technological barriers to access to material limits what audiences can do. But the Phantom Edit shows that this barrier is crumbling quickly. Consider perhaps the most extreme case of pirate editing: the Goblin edit. The Goblin is an amateur Russian digital video editor named Dmitri Puchkov. Not satisfied with merely watching illegal copies of Hollywood films, he has differentiated some products within the rather crowded Russian video market. The Goblin re-dubs the films into colloquial Russian, trumping the rather unsatisfying subtitle translations.
The Goblin's greatest hits are the re-dubs of the first two of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. He turned Frodo Baggins into Frodo Sumkin and the rest of the "good" characters into caricatures of incompetent Russian officials. The evil Orcs became Russian gangsters. Gandalf the Wizard constantly quotes Karl Marx. Puchkov originally made the new versions for his friends, but they made copies and spread them widely. Pirate video merchants all over Russia are distributing Goblin edits, which are in high demand, for about $10. The Goblin is currently working on a Russian "Star Wars" edit. Certainly, by throwing out the old soundtrack and revising the characters completely, the Goblin is producing a fairly new work, one that does not directly compete with the original in the marketplace. No one who wants to watch the original "good" Frodo Baggins would want the Goblin version in its stead. But the real value of the Goblin edit is that it uses a familiar English text and Hollywood production (and New Zealand settings) to comment on Russian politics and society. This is multilayered cultural criticism and revision on a par with the minstrelization of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," Woody Allen's Occidentalization in "What's Up Tiger Lily?" and Leonard Bernstein's urbanization of "Romeo and Juliet" into "West Side Story." It should make some feel queasy and others giggle. It should make everyone pause and think.
What are the implications to the status of Hollywood labor if, as writer Peter Rojas explained, all films are to be considered permanent "works in progress"? Should creativity be reserved for professionals and experts? Or will teenagers in their basements and libraries be able to soup up or strip down the signs, symbols, and texts that make up such an important part of their lives? Will Hollywood, bolstered by the political power of the United States government, be able to dictate the form and format of distribution around the globe? What are the implications for local cultural forms if powerful media companies use law and technology to ossify their advantages? In lawsuits, congressional hearings, and international negotiations, Hollywood studios claim they need maximum and near permanent control over their products to justify the massive investments they make in production, marketing, and distribution. But clearly, the issue is not just a commercial one - it's cultural as well. Yet the commercial film industry and the governments that do its bidding are willing to go to extreme measures to preserve their global cultural and commercial standing.
About the writer
Siva Vaidhyanathan, the author of "Copyrights and Copywrongs: The Rise of Intellectual Property and How it Threatens Creativity" (New York University Press, 2001), is an assistant professor of culture and communication at New York University.
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