A listener of the Film Junk podcast recently asked to what degree special features matter in the hosts’ decisions to purchase DVDs. They effectively answered “not much,” which I just don’t believe considering their rants about Canada’s dual-language packaging spoiling their collections.

Special features almost always make or break a sale for me. If I like a movie enough to buy the disc, it’s because I want to not only relive the experience but hopefully find deeper engagement and meaning. Of course DVD extras can be a mixed bag. Some are a complete waste of time, pointless filler, or simply a joke—the screechy alien language track for Galaxy Quest and the amateur hand puppet version of The Incredibles are funny ideas but not worth sitting through. Watching Memento chronologically-corrected is enlightening but buried in a frustrating maze of cryptic menus. Tim Burton routinely lets me down with his unenthusiastic commentaries, while I’ve watched films I didn’t necessarily care for just to hear Roger Ebert’s fascinating insights. Like buying a music single for the B-side, I couldn’t care less for Bruce McDonald’s Roadkill but the bonus short Elimination Dance makes the disc worth owning.

I admit I’ve bought collector’s editions just to feel like I got my money’s worth. But will I really ever make time to watch the half dozen edits of Blade Runner or Brazil? What about the extra discs accompanying Sympathy for Lady Vengeance and Brotherhood of the Wolf that aren’t even in English? Thankfully the Lost Season 5 Dharma Initiation Kit is too big to fit on my DVD shelf or I’d be in serious danger of dropping cash on more needless and pricey embellishments.

Like many collectors I’ve double dipped on some titles, falling for the studios’ dastardly trick of saving bonus goodies for re-releases. Sometimes I’ve held out for extras that never came. Why doesn’t a meaty film like The Fountain have a commentary track, especially when director Darren Aronofsky has one recorded already? I did finally break down and buy the bare bones Pee-Wee’s Playhouse box sets, giving up hope that Paul Ruebens will make good on his promise of deluxe editions.

The battle over what to buy becomes even broader when taking into account versions from different countries. The Canadian and UK editions of Guy Maddin’s My Winnipeg both have equally covetable featurettes. That decision came down to the covers, as I didn’t care for region 2’s horrific frozen horse heads. I found myself willfully buying Maddin’s Saddest Music in the World twice however, one for the commentary and one for better image quality.

Now studios are really twisting my arm and starting to relegate the good stuff for blu-ray only. It’s probably about time I jumped on the technology bandwagon anyway, but I do so grudgingly. The release that pushes me over the edge is Richard Kelly’s box office bomb The Box, an oddity that didn’t completely win me over but makes me curious enough to hear what the heck Kelly was thinking when he made it. Hopefully his commentary isn’t a disaster like the Donnie Darko director’s cut turned out to be.

Sometimes buying a hard-to-find favorite on DVD is bonus enough. I find pleasure in watching bootlegs of Max Headroom and Sifl and Olly despite their glitchy lo-res quality. I’ve even dusted off my VHS player just to revisit Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny. I doubt that’s getting a Criterion release anytime soon.

What about you? Do you gorge on ultra editions, or do you side with David Lynch who believes even chapter breaks are an excessive distraction to a film?

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