A good sequel is much like a good steak – extremely rare.
Whilst we wait patiently for The Ten Commandments 2 to be green-lit – MGM have hired a team of Rabbis to finalise the licensing deal with G-d, and Isla Fisher is rumoured to be playing the burning bush – there will be a host of awful sequels put into production, all with a June 2014 release. They will be bad; they will be unnecessary; they will feature Robert Downey Jr.
The sequel machine is as inevitable as Sophia Grace and Rosie ending up in rehab. It continues to churn out over-hyped crap and insult our intelligence, yet we keep this machine operational. It literally would have cost less to have supplied every person on earth with a copy of Transformers on DVD than it cost to make Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, yet somehow it got made and Michael Bay was able to buy another small Polynesian island. This movie sucked, big time; yet we all know it sucked big time because we all went to see it. So, in effect, we all suck…big time.
The sad fact is that we all consciously agree to come back for more of the same. Peter Jackson has managed to take a book with 130 pages and turn it into a trilogy. A TRILOGY! That’s THREE SEPARATE FILMS! But nevertheless, we will go and see all three of them and bitch about how he should have just made one. It’s like the childish taunt of “why are you hitting yourself”, yet we are all actually hitting ourselves.
Why do we partake in this madness? Why don’t we demand fresh, original, challenging content from Tinsel Town, rather than last season’s left-overs? The truth is, I don’t know. I sit through most sequels cringing and criticising, yet I’m the one who paid $18.50 for a ticket like a sucker. Maybe we’re just creatures of habit? Maybe we’re self-harming masochists? Or maybe we’re just seeking to remind ourselves of special moments shared whilst watching the first instalment of a franchise – taking your child to see Shrek as their first movie; cuddling up to an old flame in A Nightmare on Elm Street; sharing your first kiss whilst watching Blade. The familiarity of the characters and the (often lack of) plotline somehow offer us comfort in this otherwise uncertain world, as we prefer to engage with the devil we know than the devil we don’t.
Or maybe the first one just had a lot of boobs! I don’t know; I’m not your mother.
We either love sequels, or love to hate them, but whatever the case, we give in to them. So it’s for that reason that I have compiled a list of the top 15 sequels that should NEVER be made. If Hollywood insists on reinventing the wheel, at least leave these guaranteed cinematic atrocities off the production line.
G-d help us all…
All grown up, Scout Finch goes off to college and joins a sorority. Disillusioned by the bitchiness of her sorority sisters, she signs up to a local roller-derby team and discovers her passion for life drawing. She falls in love with the college quarterback and competes for his affection with hilarious results.
Fair to say, it’s nothing like the original.
Raymond uses his powers of autism for good, solving crimes with Tom Cruise by day and returning home for Jeopardy in the evening. It’s like Sherlock Holmes meets Miami Vice…yeah, definitely.
Three and a half hours of Colin Firth reading the entire Babysitters Club series…with a stutter. Already nominated for 10 Oscars.
The world freezes over. Again.
Jake Gyllenhaal walks across America. Again.
Dennis Quad almost cracks a smile. Again.
F*** this shit, I’m moving to Mars.
Still better than Speed 2.
Sean Penn’s performance was too verbose in the first, so Jean Dujardin will be cast in his place. The dinosaurs will play more pivotal roles.
Exactly the same as the first film, but this time played in reverse…which would actually be in proper chronological order. Touché, Christopher. Touché.
Dustin Hoffman to reprise his role as a Tutsi.
All the original cast have agreed to return, except for Keira Knightley’s cheek bones.
Now confined to a nursing home, Rocky is challenged to a title fight by Mordi Goldstein, a retired accountant and former heavyweight champion of Palm Springs Retirement Village. Rocky seeks the assistance of his old friend Vincent Di’Ablo; they haven’t known each other long, Vincent’s just really old. The fight takes place after arts n’ crafts but before dinner – neither fighter wants to miss “Goulash Wednesdays.”
Wanna know the easiest way to blow another $120,000,000?
Don’t even ask!
Confined to a small jury room at the back of a New York Courthouse, 12 women deliberate over the guilt of an accused murderer. They are told that the yoghurt with which they have been provided is low-fat. It isn’t.
Ridley me this…a movie with an actual storyline?
Skywalk away, JJ.
Just Skywalk away and no one gets Hutt!