Every
time a new sequel or a franchise reboot is announced, there’s a flurry of mixed
reactions. Some people are genuinely excited to see their favorite movie
continue. Others roll their eyes and complain that Hollywood has run out of
ideas. Many are afraid that the original material will be so altered and
perverted that in the end, it will be unrecognizable. I see this one a lot with
book adaptations. I think most people just shrug their shoulders and say, “I
dunno. I guess it could work” or simply don’t care.
Two
years ago, I wrote how the box office was being saturated with sequels,
remakes, and adaptations. (I should have included those awful parody movies
like Scary Movie 5 and Vampires Suck.) I said that production
companies were playing it safe by rehashing movies that performed well last
year or basing movies off of superheroes, toys, or anything with a
predetermined audience who would see the movie no matter what. I said this came
at the expense of films with original plots and that audiences were just as
much to blame as studios for this trend.
This
surge of sequels is unlikely to disappear any time soon. Of the top ten highest
grossing movies of 2013, only two (Frozen
at #4 and Gravity at #7) were not a
sequel. (http://boxofficemojo.com/yearly/chart/?yr=2013&p=.htm)
I
still stand by the article, but…allow me to back tread a bit. As much as I’d
like to see more movies based on original material, some sequels and remakes
are not the death of creativity in Hollywood. In fact, some of them are quite good.
Let
me explain.
Really
there are two types of sequels.
The
first is a carbon copy of the original movie. All the actors resume their old
roles, the director and writer are usually the same, and the story follows the
formula of the original. A few changes are made (usually the setting) and the
stakes are sometimes raised. In Home
Alone, Kevin McAllister fends off two witless burglars with homemade traps,
discovers that an old person he was afraid of is just lonely and misunderstood,
and realizes that his family isn’t as terrible as he’d thought. In Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, he does
it all again with more elaborate traps and in a different setting. A similar thing happens in the Hangover movies and tons of
direct-to-DVD Disney sequels where the offspring of the original characters
often go on the same adventure their parents did. If it worked the first time,
why not a second?
The
second type of sequel is a little more creative. Rather than repeat the story
of the original movie, the sequel continues it. The characters have learned
from their past experiences and go on to do different things. They meet new
characters, face different obstacles, and often have to tie up loose threads
from the last movie. Many will adhere to a formula (Indiana Jones for example), but each installment has it’s own
identity.
In
fact, I’ve found that within this category, there are tons of movies based on a
book series. This makes perfect sense, of course. An ideal book series shows
the protagonist’s character arc through a series of adventures and, especially
in genre fiction, how the world changes around the protagonist. The Harry Potter series and The Hunger Games are great examples.
Both
Harry Potter and Katniss Everdeen undergo huge transformations as they take on
responsibilities, struggle to maintain key relationships, right major wrongs in
their world, and ultimately suffer for it. The Wizarding World and Panem go
from fairly stable societies that have overcome a dark past to outright civil
war. Values are questioned, power is shifted, and in the end, evil is defeated,
though it may rise again.
Compare
this with the Bond movies. There’s a long list of clichés in each Bond movie
(the beautiful femme fatales, the cool cars, gambling, the vodka martinis, the
gadgets, the over-the-top villains, and outrageous traps) and each movie
follows a very defined structure. A lot of franchises follow formulas, but the
problem with the Bond movies (at least until recently) is that there is little
continuity between films. Bond is a more of an embodiment of what men want to
be than a dynamic character. He has character traits, but over the movies, he
doesn’t learn anything. Furthermore, the same stock super villains come up with
ridiculous plans to either take over or destroy the world, Bond gets some cool
toys, goes to an exotic location, is nearly killed by guards, infiltrates the
villain’s lair, is kidnapped, escapes, and blows up the lair with a girl in his
arm. It’s fun to watch, but we’ve seen it all before.
Imagine
if in Empire Strikes Back, we find that
Luke Skywalker retired after destroying the Death Star, became a farmer and had
a son. His son is completely in the dark about his father’s true profession
until he and his wife are killed and a replacement Obi-wan has to teach the son
about the Force. They join two smugglers who aren’t Han Solo and Chewbacca and
blow up a second Death Star that the Emperor has built. Wouldn’t that have been
awful? Okay, not as awful as the prequels, but still pretty disappointing.
What
made Empire such a good movie – and
to some, an improvement on the original Star
Wars – was that it pushed the characters out of their comfort zone and out
of ours. It gave its audience everything they loved in the first movie, but it
also took risks.
His
training to become a Jedi and the climactic discovery of his father’s identity,
changes Luke from the cheerful young hero of the first movie into a wiser and
more enlightened – if somewhat traumatized but also well-rounded – person. Han
Solo and Leia go through probably one of the funniest but also most believable
romances put on screen and these two people who couldn’t stand each other at
the beginning of the movie realize their love for one another just before Han
is frozen and presumed dead. Darth
Vader, one of the most iconic villains of all time, even shows a moment of
tenderness for his son.
Where
the original Star Wars had an
exciting ending, Empire’s couldn’t be
more different. Most of the characters are at their lowest point when the movie
ends. The Empire has won this round, but the movie ends on an optimistic note.
Whereas in many sequels, we know what is going to happen, Empire refused to follow our expectations. The Dark Knight ends in a similar way. It has it’s own three-act
structure and similar themes of justice and good vs. evil, but the stakes have
been raised. The obstacles are still there when the movie ends and we want to
know how all of this is going to be resolved in the third film. A truly good
sequel forces the characters to mature, progresses the story instead of
repeating it, and makes everything from the first movie just a little grander.
Reboots
and remakes aren’t entirely without merit, either. When adapting material that
is already culturally well-known, a director has to reinvent the story a little
bit or film it in an original way and it’s always interesting to see what
approach a director will take. Of course, not all of it works. Some stray too
far from the source material (Guess Who?,
starring Ashton Kutcher, turns Guess
Who’s Coming to Dinner? into a bad comedy) while others cling too closely
to it (Gus Van Sant’s shot-for-shot color remake of Psycho just makes you wish you were watching the original). But for
every remake of Godzilla or The Day the Earth Stood Still, there’s a
film that retells the original story and can exist as a self-contained film
rather than an add-on. Sometimes it can be an improvement on the original or
even eclipse it. Has anybody seen the original Scarface (1932) or Ocean’s
Eleven (1960)?
I’d
argue that for some characters to continue their relevance in popular culture,
they have to be re-imagined.
The
Adam West Batman series in the 1960’s was very much a product of its time. It’s
enjoyable for its campiness, but has little substance otherwise. People probably
would have continued to view Batman as a silly character if it hadn’t been for
Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns.
Tim Burton would continue this
more serious version of the Caped Crusader in his films. Both Miller and Burton
added the conflict, mystery, and darker morality that is now synonymous with
Batman. Batman became a character instead of a cartoon. Ironically, the next reboot
by Joel Schumacher would revert to the campy, colorful, pun-ridden tone of the
Adam West and then reversed when Christopher Nolan began his Batman reboot.
Personally,
I’d say each of these movies is worth enduring if Nolan’s trilogy is the end
result. I know many consider Burton’s Batman
to be the best Batman movie, but I really love the complexity and philosophy of
the reboot. With references to terrorism, the morality of fighting crime
outside the justice system vs. within it, and becoming the villain in order to
stop the villain, Nolan’s Dark Knight fits post-9/11 America the way Burton’s
Batman can’t. Not that that is a fault of Burton’s, of course. They are two
very different interpretations and I simply prefer the latter.
But
Nolan could certainly make an action movie about crime, morality, and
vigilantism using original characters. So why didn’t he? Well, obviously using
Batman will draw more of an audience, but more importantly, I think Batman is
such a cultural icon, using him will have more dramatic weight. Batman has to
represent all the things that Batman has always represented in all his various
incarnations, but he subsequently has to reflect our time. In The Dark Knight, he has to do some
rather unflattering things to stop his adversaries, things that may or may not
be justified. Because we already know Batman as a character, he is easier to
empathize with when he does these things. With a completely new character, we
may just see him as a corrupted cop when he wiretaps an entire city or breaks a
man’s legs to get information. By using a pre-established character, Nolan can
test what we think we know about him.
Superman
has likewise been adapted over the years, though the reception of his latest
movies is mixed. In Zach Snyder and Christopher Nolan’s Man of Steel, Superman is in darker territory. Again, the stakes
are higher, the tone is more serious, and he has to change throughout the
movie, even doing things that push him out of his comfort zone as a character.
Now these are all the criteria I listed for reboots and sequels that expand
upon or even improve upon the original, so why hasn’t it worked here?
It
really comes down to character. While Superman is just as well-known as Batman,
Superman is a much more static character. Batman has always occupied the gray
area between right and wrong and is much more flexible in what he will and will
not do to battle evil. Superman has always been incorruptible and well…perfect.
A little too perfect. His moral code is basically that of a Boy Scout. Yes, he
has the tragic back story like Batman, but while Batman is a flawed human being
trying his best, Superman is more of a demigod who can do no wrong. It’s easy
to root for him, but hard for an audience to identify with him. What sort of
conflict would hold the length of a movie when the hero has no faults, never
second-guesses his motives, holds no grudges, and is the living embodiment of
Truth, Justice, and the American Way?
The
protagonist of a great movie needs to struggle, doubt, imagine giving up, and
in some cases even do some wrong before he overcomes his rival, but Superman’s
identity is so firmly cemented in the public consciousness as an incorruptible
hero, any attempts to give Superman more pathos or to push the boundaries of
right and wrong, is usually met with backlash. Of course, this is exactly what
Superman needs to be a compelling character, but when he kills his enemy in Man of Steel or arguable causes as much
damage to a city as the villain, it doesn’t feel like forcing the character to
mature like Luke Skywalker or show a dramatic arc like Harry Potter or Katniss
Everdeen, it simply feels out of character.
So
yes, while it is safer for studios to produce remakes and sequels, they will
continue to be as much of a gamble as original content. Some will become new
classics that inspire and entertain millions, some will bomb horribly, and many
will be modest successes that are quickly forgotten. Even though these movies
tread familiar ground, there will always be creativity of some sort even if it’s
poorly executed or never fully realized. Besides, while sequels and remakes
will continue to bombard the box office, I’m willing to endure five Transformers sequels and Twilight knock-offs for one Hunger Games.
Join
me in the third and final installment where I talk about originality as a
concept.
