The Lost Art of the DVD Bonus Feature

Remember when buying a movie meant getting the movie plus a mini–film school tucked away in those glossy plastic clamshells? When “Special Edition” wasn’t just a marketing sticker slapped on the same disc with a slightly angrier cover? When commentary tracks were gospel, bloopers were cinema, and the making-of featurette was basically the Avengers assembling—but with more cargo shorts?

Yeah. Me too. And I miss it with the irrational passion of a person who still owns three different versions of The Matrix because each one promised “never-before-seen” content that was, in fact, very-before-seen.

Because somewhere between streaming’s rise and physical media’s fall, we lost something: the weird, wonderful, wildly unnecessary world of DVD bonus features—a place where creativity, chaos, and genuine filmmaking insight lived in perfect, sometimes low-resolution harmony.

The Commentary Track: A Lost Religious Experience

Commentary tracks were the original podcasts, except you didn’t have to pretend the hosts were your friends—they already were.Directors whispering secrets. Actors recalling which scenes were filmed on two hours of sleep. Editors casually admitting they Frankensteined half the movie in post. Pure cinematic intimacy.

Try asking Netflix for a commentary track today. What you’ll get is the same blank silence Netflix uses to ask Are you still watching? but with judgment.

And don’t even get me started on the cast commentaries. That was chaotic brunch energy in audio form. No one stayed on topic; someone always forgot the plot; and at least one actor watched themselves on screen like, “Oh right, I was in this.”

Beautiful. Messy. Gone.

Deleted Scenes: The Movie’s Emotional Garage Sale

Deleted scenes used to feel like uncovering hidden treasure—until you realized they were deleted for a reason.Still, the joy of discovering an awkward subplot, an alternate ending, or a truly baffling costume choice? Priceless.

Now? Studios keep deleted scenes locked away like nuclear codes. If they do release one, it’s usually three seconds of someone opening a door, uploaded to YouTube with a title like: “THE MOMENT THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING (NO IT DOESN’T).”

Justice for actual deleted scenes. We were robbed.

The Making-Of Featurette: A Love Letter in 480p

Those behind-the-scenes docs were scrappy, earnest masterpieces. They always featured:

• A director waving their arms like they were conducting a dragon.

• At least one actor saying, “This is the most challenging role of my career,” about a talking squirrel.

• A grip explaining a piece of equipment you still don’t understand.

• A composer in a dim studio hitting drums with sticks that were definitely on fire.

Today’s “making-of” promos are 57 seconds long and contain approximately zero information. I want interviews filmed in a hotel hallway. I want b-roll of set construction. I want extras eating free pizza while dressed as medieval villagers. Bring back the magic.

Easter Eggs: Cinema’s Hidden Side Quests

DVD Easter eggs were the best. You’d navigate the menu like you were hacking into NASA, pressing left-left-up-right-left just to unlock a 12-second clip of the lead actor saying, “Hey, you found the Easter egg.”

Peak entertainment.

Peak reward.

Peak dopamine hit.

Streaming platforms could easily recreate this. They choose not to. Cowards.

Sure, DVDs were clunky. The menus sometimes looked like rejected PS2 loading screens. And yes, navigating special features required the patience of a saint and the remote control precision of a neurosurgeon. But those extras gave us something streaming doesn’t: a sense of discovery, personality, and the feeling that filmmaking was a tangible craft full of real people doing weird, creative, passionate work.

When everything is frictionless, everything feels disposable. DVDs weren’t disposable. They were curated. They were personal. They were movies plus a soul. So here’s my plea to the entertainment industry: Bring back the chaos. Bring back the commentary. Bring back the delightfully unnecessary. Bring back bonus features, not as an add-on, but as an art form.

And while you’re at it; bring back those DVD menus with the tiny animated loops that made you feel like you were about to enter a nightclub from the future. We deserve that level of drama again.