Sequels, or, How Can I Follow That?

We all know that Hollywood is sequel-happy. One reason often given is that movies are so amazingly expensive to produce, so studios aren’t willing to take a risk on something that isn’t almost guaranteed. Not that sequels never disappoint at the box office, but they rarely bomb completely. I have an idea about the psychology behind the success of the phenomenon of the sequel. But first, I’ll say other things.

It’s very disappointing, especially (for me) with science fiction films. So much Asimov, Heinlein, Williamson, Simak, Leinster, Silverberg, Moore, Kuttner, Sturgeon, and so many more, is out there, unfilmed, while we get Terminator 20: He’s Baaaack and This Time, He Does the Macarena!

Sometimes we do get something brand new. Like the stunningly bad Jupiter Ascending. Though, I have to be honest: I really like that movie. It puts most of its feet wrong, and since it’s hard to even tell what species the film is, who knows how many feet it really has. But no film featuring Mila Kunis as a space goddess who somehow rules bees for no reason can be said to completely lack charm.

Before I get to my little theory, which explains both why we like sequels and why we are doomed to be disappointed by them, I’ll say that I think there are two kinds of sequels. Type 1 sequels are sequels that were meant to be. Either a film was based on a series of novels like Lord of the Rings or James Bond, or the film’s story was deliberately spread over multiple films like Kill Bill, or a series was always intended (or at least hoped for) like Star Wars. Such sequels can still be bad, but they don’t really fit my theory.

Type 2 sequels are the ones to watch out for. These are sequels to stories that were completely told already. The story is over; let’s have more! Like children around a campfire, we hear that the boy is found dead at the grave because he put his own dagger through his shirt, and we yell “More!”, leaving the camp counselor befuddled.

A perfect example is Die Hard. (Ever notice that the expression is pronounced with the emphasis on hard, but everyone says the movie title with the emphasis on die?) Here was a great movie. The greatness lies in the fact that John McClane had no business being where he was. He stumbled into the adventure of his life. In Die Hard 2: Is That A Gun In Your Pocket Or Are You Thinking About Die Hard 1, he…stumbles into the adventure of his life….again. It just doesn’t work.

One reason it doesn’t work is because writing a sequel inverts the natural order of things. A storyteller comes up with an idea first, then robes it in the flesh of characters and world-building. For the sequel, the characters and world are already in place, and the story is fitted to them. An idea has to be come up with to fit a situation, when it should be the other way around.

So why do we love them so much? Even after we’ve been burned? And why are we always so disappointed?

We have to admit, we’re really unfair in judging sequels. It’s not like we don’t know what we’re walking into. There are only two complaints about sequels: “the original was better, this was unnecessary,” or “that was nothing like the original.” And that just about covers the spread. Or, as my Dad said on our way out of Star Trek 5: Shatner IS a Director, Dammit!, “they’ve squeezed just about all the blood out of this turnip.”

Okay, so here is my long awaited theory. We want a sequel because we want to see the original again. But we also want something new. We’re like Homer Simpson: “Put all my groceries into one bag – but don’t make the bag heavy!” (When the bag boy said, “That’s not possible, sir,” Homer responded, “What are you, the Possible Police?”)

We want the original again because we had a good time and we remember how great it felt when Indy just shot the guy with the sword. We don’t want to risk our evening out on an untested quantity. “Pitch Black? I don’t already know that one! I’m scared!”

So, we should see the original again. But, we don’t want to! Or, we don’t think we want to. We think we want something new, that’s old, that’s new! Something fresh that has been sitting there for years. Something unexpected that won’t startle us. Something different that is familiar.

We want to leave our beautiful wife and flee to Europe, and take up with a dancing girl, and have her shed the seventh veil, and it’s our wife, but better somehow.

So, what is the inevitable result? If the film breaks no new ground (what we ostensibly want), we conclude it’s not as good as the first one. (Of course it isn’t! I’m on my fourth midlife crisis and it really lacks the zing of the first one. ) We decide that there was no reason to make it. (Again…of course there wasn’t.) But, if it breaks new ground, a part of us senses that this could have been a really good story about a Satanic cult on motorcycles – but what the heck is Dracula doing there! (Christopher Lee, Count Dooku for all you fellow prequel lovers out there, or Saruman for you Tallfellows) essentially said as much about The Satanic Rites of Dracula, Hammer films 1973. He also recorded his own heavy metal music in his 90s. There was a man who knew how to move on! As I was saying, if it breaks new ground, then it isn’t really the same – and we feel cheated.

Sequels just can’t please us. We should grow up and spend our money on original works.

I hope you enjoyed this post. If so, let me know and I’ll rewrite it slightly and offer it up as something new. Hey….I need something to do to distract me from how the Apocalypse we’re oozing through has delayed Wonder Woman 1984 once too often and I’m getting twitchy.