I shouldn’t have to recap the story of “E.T.”, which involves young Elliott (Henry Thomas), who is befriended by an adorable alien being when he is left behind by companions during a visit to Earth. Elliott adopts the waddling creature and lures him home with a trail of Reeses Pieces (the idiots at M&M who turned down this particular promotional offer are still kicking themselves, I’m sure). Little sister Gertie (Drew Barrymore) is initially terrified but becomes elated at the notion of a new pet that she can teach to speak and dress in drag. Elder brother Michael (Robert MacNaughton) is aghast, and must remember his younger years when something as impossible and fantastical as E.T. fueled his imagination.

In essence, that is what “E.T.” is all about: the clean-cut innocence and uncorrupted virtues of childhood. There is a reason the original title was “A Boy’s Life”; this is as much an earthbound coming-of-age tale as it is the story of an alien visitor. Spielberg works to emphasize the film’s grade schooler perspective and ground Elliott’s world in a comfortable suburban reality. Take notice that, until the scientists appear toward the end, not one adult face aside from Elliott’s mom (Dee Wallace) has been shown. That would jeopardize what is predominantly portrayed as a child’s outlook of the world. Some of the most charming scenes in the film involve Elliott attempting to familiarize E.T. with his new surroundings; as he introduces his strange new guest to action figures and goldfish, E.T. observes with quiet fascination. The wonderfully expressive and lifelike puppet is one of the true stars of Spielberg’s opus. The companionship between E.T. and Elliott represents the film’s heart-rending emotional center, and it’s amazing to think one of them is an animatronic creation.

Upon its 1982 release, “E.T.” become nothing less than a cultural phenomenon. “E.T. phone home” emerged as the tagline for a new generation. The reason the film struck such a chord was its ordinary themes of friendship and family fitted within such an extraordinary story. Spielberg and screenwriter Melissa Mathison orchestrate a full blown tug-of-war with our heart strings, but both are uncommon masters of the tearjerker (the one sequence that goes overboard is E.T.’s “death” scene, which is laboriously drawn out and milked for every drop of sentimental value). My favorite scene in the film is Elliott and E.T.’s triumphant escape from federal officials on bicycle (flanked by Elliott’s posse of rebel adolescents, including a young C. Thomas Howell). When they soar into the sky, sustained by the glorious theme from John Williams (perhaps the most magical score in the composer’s long and illustrious career), the effect is dizzying and unforgettable. The final scene when E.T. and Elliott are exchanging heartfelt good-byes, and the latter stays “Stay...” and the former responds “Come...” - well, it never fails to give the ol’ tear ducts a good workout. This is a true classic.

And what of the new additions for the 20th anniversary release? Well, E.T. has been given a digital makeover in a few scenes, and one cute new sequence finds he and Elliott comparing their height at a bathroom mirror. Spielberg has felt the need to replace shotguns with walkie-talkies during the bike chase, and loop the dialogue “You’re not going as a hippie!” over the original line of “You’re not going as a terrorist!”. Some purists whined about Spielberg’s censorship tactics, which is little more than useless grumbling; nothing has changed here. “E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial” remains one of my favorite movies, and although some were reluctant to revisit it in 2002, it is something I will cherish forever.