Most football players, once they’ve reached a certain age and reputation, decide that despite offers to keep playing, they should end their careers and settle into their spots in NFL history. Then there’s Brett Favre. Past his prime, and even after a self-proclaimed retirement—no, make that two—he insisted on continuing his career after catching the scent of a hefty paycheck.
Hollywood has a nasty tendency of embracing spent characters too, because even as movie series go into their third and fourth installments, they continue to profit from their predecessors’ success. Sequels have come to be the bane of the film industry, and despite a few critically acclaimed exceptions (The Godfather: Part II), a majority lack talent, creativity, and attention to detail (The Godfather: Part III).
The sequel is an inherently flawed, almost surefire recipe for a sub-par movie. Because it’s always lurking in the shadows of its predecessor, a sequel does not have to live up to the mind-blowing content of the original. Rather, like a child fed with a silver spoon, the filmmaker behind a sequel knows that he or she can produce a half-assed effort that, given the large following of the original installment, will still turn a profit.
This weekend, Scream 4 will open. Scream 3, released in 2000, holds a Rotten Tomatoes rating below 40 percent, but the third feature in the series earned nearly four times its estimated budget, all but ensuring the return of Ghostface. While its resurrection took more than 10 years, a series carrying that kind of sustainable profitability is destined to continue as long as a viable audience is still alive and active enough to make its way to the movie theatre.
Just a few weeks after, the Fast and Furious series will release its (dear god) fifth feature, Fast Five. Horror movie sequels may suck, but car racing movies starring Vin Diesel, the least talented member of Hollywood’s Douche Troupe, have no right to exist—let alone four of them. O.J.’s snail-paced car pursuit was at least three or four times as entertaining as the original Fast and Furious, and four sequels later, this installment has about as high of a chance of turning out watchable as a David Carradine sex tape.
Now, there are exceptions to the rule. Aliens, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and any pre-mandated follow-ups like those in the Lord of the Rings series escape the sequel law of diminishing returns. These films, the products of visionary directors (James Cameron gets credit where credit is due), aren’t in the same category as movies like Fast Five. What I’m talking about is an entirely different breed of sequels—the profiteering, cliché, made-in-six-months-so-people-are-still-interested variety. Just look at the Saw series—director James Wan got approval for the sequel within the original’s opening weekend in 2004, and since then has churned out six sequels. Producing films at this rate sacrifices quality, but maximizes profits. If it pays for the exec’s Ferrari, he doesn’t care about how crappy the movie is.
Risk-averse Hollywood, which now relies on strong franchises and best-selling book adaptations, has become increasingly obsessed with milking the last possible penny out of a series before finally letting it die. Sequels are in their heyday, but this craze will (I hope) end as audiences realize how dreadful and uninspired they are. But then again, this requires an unwarranted faith in the American moviegoing public, which continues to fork over hundreds of millions of dollars to see Transformers and Pirates of the Caribbean sequels. Shame on you, America. And screw you, Vin Diesel.
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