Showing posts with label sequel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sequel. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Same Old Same Old



Steven Spielberg is probably the most gifted filmmaker of my lifetime.

But I'll be the first to say that sequels are just not his thing.

He's a terrific story teller, but his inclination is to tell the story in a single sitting, usually not in installments — even when the response to one of his movies appears to be a cry for more — and move on to the next project.

"Jaws," for example, was great. The sequels, not so much. But Spielberg really didn't have a hand in them.

Inexplicably, he was the director of both the original "Jurassic Park" and "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," which premiered on this day in 1997. The original was a first–rate example of Spielberg's filmmaking at its best; the second was an uncharacteristic example of giving in to the temptation to make some easy money essentially repeating yourself.

Well, it might have been better if Spielberg had repeated himself. Instead he tried to concoct an entirely new story with basically the same ingredients. Spielberg knows how to push all the right buttons to get the desired response from the audience, but these movies centered on the dinosaurs that had been created by Richard Attenborough's character in the first movie. It was almost as if Spielberg directed a documentary.

(That would have pleased my journalism professors. Their advice to us was always that, whenever we wrote about something, we should be like flies on the wall. "The reader shouldn't even know you're there," one of my professors said.)

Attenborough had a cameo role in the sequel. So did the child actors who played his grandchildren in the earlier movie.

And Jeff Goldblum was back — but none of the others returned. Instead you had Arliss Howard, Julianne Moore and a whole new cast of good guys and bad guys, all brought together to explore an island where the dinosaurs had been bred before being brought to Jurassic Park where they would be the main attraction. When the park was abandoned, the isolated supply island was forgotten.

Except by the audience. If I remember correctly, there was nothing to forget because this island was never mentioned in the original.

That was just one of the many hurdles Spielberg had to clear in order to make this movie. And I guess he succeeded in most of his objectives, but when the movie was finished and showing in the theaters, it lacked the one thing it needed the most, the one thing that just about every Spielberg movie has — a sense of awe, of wonderment.

Call it the Wow Factor. It is when Spielberg merges all the best elements of filmmaking that are at his disposal at the time.

I remember that moment in the original "Jurassic Park." It was when all the guests saw a wide assortment of dinosaurs in an open field. There was no comparable moment in the sequel.

I'm not saying Spielberg didn't try. But the dinosaurs in his sequel were always aggressive. The audience knew why, of course, and understood. But it got in the way of what one expects from Spielberg. He is the gold standard, always on the cutting edge.

His imagination takes us places we never dreamed we would go. He does the dreaming and turns it into movie reality. To borrow the words of 19th–century British poet Arthur O'Shaughnessy, Spielberg is "the music maker and the dreamer of dreams."

Sequels just aren't his thing.

Making movie magic is his thing.

Spielberg has never struck me as a director of violent movies. I know he directed "Jaws" — but the shark never became a malevolent monster. It did what animals do — it hunted for food. In "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," the dinosaurs were malicious. They killed indiscriminately. Hunger had little to do with it.

Oh, there was a sense of wonder — initially — from some of the cast members — and most of the folks in Spielberg's audiences.

It could hardly be avoided. Spielberg's dinosaurs appeared to be the real thing. It was hard for audiences, whether watching the original or the sequel, not to be astonished by what they saw.

But where Spielberg came up short was by not reimagining the material and coming up with a unique story that did the visuals and the human characters justice.

That's when Spielberg has always been at his best — when, in addition to the movie making bells and whistles, he also gave audiences a story that surprised them, that wasn't what they expected.

Film critic Roger Ebert agreed with me, by the way.

"Perhaps the time to do the thinking on this project was before the first film, when all the possibilities lay before Spielberg," Ebert wrote 20 years ago. "He should have tossed aside the original Michael Crichton novel, knowing it had given him only one thing of use: an explanation for why dinosaurs might walk among us. Everything else — the scientific mumbo–jumbo, the theme park scheme — was just the recycling of other movies."

Recycled is the right word, I think. When I saw "The Lost World: Jurassic Park," at a theater, I kept thinking that I had seen it before — just not with dinosaurs. I still can't say that it reminded me of a specific movie, just a genre — the monster movie.

Another thought that I had was that Spielberg's dinosaurs were always getting loose and terrorizing humans in the rain. In the original movie, it was during a rain storm — at the time I presumed it was some sort of tropical storm — that the dinosaurs escaped their pens and roamed the island.

They did essentially the same thing under the same circumstances in the sequel, and when I watched the movie, I presumed again that it was some sort of tropical island.

But then the plot called for one of the adult dinosaurs to be taken to San Diego where, sure enough, it was raining. Now, San Diego has a very agreeable climate most of the year with little rain — maybe a foot or so all year.

So that part, that this vessel carrying a living dinosaur, arrived in San Diego on one of the few rainy days of the year, probably surprised some people in the audience — but that really isn't the kind of surprise I've been talking about.

It was more recycling.

Thursday, May 04, 2017

The End of the Spider-Man Trilogy



Sequels are seldom worthy successors to the originals.

Sometimes a second chapter is necessary only so it is possible to move on to a third. I have always thought that was the case with the "Back to the Future" movies, and I definitely feel that way about the "Spider–Man" movies, the third installment of which made its debut on this day in 2007.

As I observed yesterday, I liked the "Spider–Man" movie from 2002 — and I liked its second sequel, the one that premiered 10 years ago today. The second movie, which premiered in 2004, didn't have much going for it, as far as I was concerned.

(The third part of a trilogy isn't always so great. The third chapters of "The Godfather" and original "Star Wars" trilogies easily make that case.)

Not everyone felt that way. Film critic Roger Ebert and I frequently had similar reactions to movies — but not the "Spider–Man" trilogy.

And it all seems to have hinged on the character of Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire). I had no problems with him, but Ebert apparently did.

"The great failing of 'Spider–Man 3' is that it failed to distract me from what a sap Peter Parker is," Ebert wrote. "It lingers so long over the dopey romance between Peter and the long–suffering Mary Jane [Kirsten Dunst] that I found myself asking the question: Could a whole movie about the relationship between these two twentysomethings be made? And my answer was: No, because today's audiences would never accept a hero so clueless and a heroine so docile."

I thought that was a bit harsh, considering that the movie's sole purpose was to entertain — not to make some profound statement.

Well, perhaps that wasn't its sole purpose. I wouldn't rule out the money motive. The original "Spider–Man" became the first movie to exceed $100 million at the box office in its first weekend on American movie screens. Its sequel, which was released in 2004, beat the original's opening–day record by $1 million.

It was logical to expect a similar response to the third movie, and it didn't disappoint — well, not entirely. It was the highest–grossing film of the three movies in the trilogy — but, although the DVD sales grossed more than $120 million, they still came up short of expectations.

Anyway, Ebert and I were never on the same page on the "Spider–Man" movies. He didn't like the first and third movies; I did.

On the other hand, he did like the second movie. "Now this is what a superhero movie should be," he wrote of that first sequel. I thought the only purpose for the second movie (other than to make a lot of money) was to be a bridge between the first and second movies. I still think that, for that matter.

Go figure.

Anyway, I can kind of understand where some folks were coming from in their criticism — the ones who complained that there were too many stories going on at once.

Yes. There were quite a few stories being told.

There were the continuing stories dating back to the original movie — of Peter Parker and M.J., of Parker's newspaper career and his editor (J.K. Simmons) and of the son of the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe), whose spirit urged his son to seek vengeance (and tried to do so through M.J.).

And there was some new stuff. There was Bryce Dallas Howard (Ron Howard's talented and beautiful daughter) who played Parker's lab partner and temporary love interest.

There was also the introduction of a new villain, played by Thomas Haden Church, who, as it turned out, had been responsible for the death of Parker's uncle (Cliff Robertson). His aunt (Rosemary Harris) was back.

Yep, there was a lot going on. Nothing neat and orderly about it. But isn't that the burden of a superhero?

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Returning to the Planet of the Apes



Cornelius (David Watson): If you are caught by the gorillas, you must remember one thing.

Brent (James Franciscus): What's that?

Cornelius: Never to speak!

Brent: What the hell would I have to say to a gorilla?

I would never categorize myself as a fan of science fiction. I do like what could charitably be called mainstream science fiction — at least as it pertains to the movies. I haven't read much science fiction in my life, but I've seen some movies — all of the "Star Wars" movies, for example, and "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and "2001: A Space Odyssey."

And the "Planet of the Apes" movies. The sequel to the first movie, "Beneath the Planet of the Apes," premiered on this day in 1970.

I don't remember when I saw the first two "Planet of the Apes" movies, but I do know the circumstances. I saw them as part of a double feature at the movie theater in my small central Arkansas hometown. It was an old–fashioned single–screen theater, the only movie theater in town other than the drive–in on the outskirts of town, and first–run movies were never shown there. If one wanted to see a movie when it was popular, it was necessary to drive to Little Rock.

And in the summers the local merchants would sponsor free movies for the children in town on Wednesday afternoons. All a kid had to do was pick up a pass at just about any store in town and then present it on the date that was printed on the pass. Presto! You were in. Drinks and snacks still cost you money, though, but not that much, at least not when compared to what you've got to pay for drinks and snacks today.

The movies that were shown typically were a few years old, and the producers were wringing a few more bucks from them before they were retired (this was before cable and home video revived movies that were believed to have outlived their profitability). Investing in free movies was good public relations for the businesses in town. I didn't know a single mother who didn't appreciate having a few hours away from her children every Wednesday.

Most of the time, the kids paid little attention to the movies that were being shown. They were more interested in throwing popcorn at each other. And I was no different, I guess. But I remember times when I was interested in what was on the screen, and the occasion I saw the first two "Planet of the Apes" movies as a Wednesday afternoon double feature was one of those times — which also must have meant that, by that time, it was at least a year, maybe more, since the sequel had been released. I didn't think of that. I just watched the movies, mesmerized by them.

In hindsight, I think that seeing those two movies at a young age impressed upon me — especially the first movie with its unexpected ending — that movies could entertain as well as provide effective social commentaries on whatever the filmmaker wished to comment simultaneously. That may not seem like much of a revelation to you, but to my 11– or 12– or 13–year–old mind at the time, it really was a revelation.

The second movie wasn't as good as the first, but it had much better special effects, and the continuation of the story made sense to me. Charlton Heston was back, albeit in more of a supporting role this time, and James Franciscus was in it as an astronaut who had been sent in search of the lost space ship. Kim Hunter was back as Dr. Zira. Linda Harrison returned as Nova, the beautiful mute.

And the audience pieced together what had happened to earth over some 20 centuries as well as what had happened on the planet since the first movie. From the by–now famous finish of the first movie, it was clear that a nuclear war had broken out, and most of the world's population had been wiped out. Life had to begin again, but this time it evolved into a world in which apes were the rulers and humans the ones who were reduced to acting on animal instincts.

Since the original movie two years earlier, apparently the gorillas had staged some sort of military coup and were dispatching an army to the Forbidden Zone — where Heston had disappeared.

Most of the humans on the planet were mute, like Nova, but there was a subset of humans living beneath the surface (hence the name of the movie), worshiping a nuclear weapon. They accomplished many things through mind control, but, in the end, it was the bomb that stood between them and being overrun by the apes.

I wasn't very impressed with the next three movies in the "Planet of the Apes" franchise — nor have I been very impressed with its recent reincarnations — but I thought the sequel that premiered 45 years ago today was a worthy followup to the first movie and adequately answered some lingering questions.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Rocky Jumps the Shark



Are you familiar with the phrase "jump the shark?"

It's become a TV cliche, but it was based, as most good cliches are, in a certain amount of truth. In this case, it was based on an episode from the Happy Days TV series — which began its existence as a nice, nostalgic look at growing up in the 1950s, but it ran out of material so, when the fifth season began in 1977, the familiar characters left their homes in Milwaukee and went to the West Coast, where Fonzie literally jumped over a shark while water skiing.

Many years later, the phrase "jump the shark" was first used to describe the point when a once–popular TV series is losing viewers and resorts to ludicrous story lines in a desperate attempt to revive interest.

In the case of Happy Days, it actually may have helped the show remain on the air for several more years, but, as I say, this phrase is almost always used to describe the rapid descent of a TV show. I think it could be used to describe some movies (and their numerous sequels) as well.

I'm thinking of one in particular — the "Rocky" film series, the fourth of which made its debut today.

Like everyone else, I cheered when Rocky Balboa, a "ham 'n' egger from South Philly," got his chance to fight for the title in the original movie back in the mid–1970s. It was make or break for Sylvester Stallone, much like Rocky's title shot, and it really paid off handsomely for him. I've heard that the film cost less than $1 million to make, and it earned back more than 100 times that at the box office. Rocky didn't win that fight so there was an obvious opportunity to cash in on the movie's popularity — with a rematch.

And, so, "Rocky II" came along a few years later to satisfy the audience's craving for more. All the stars were back, and Rocky got his rematch with Apollo. Obviously, moviegoers wouldn't sit still for seeing essentially the same story — in which Rocky comes close but doesn't win — in the sequel. This time, Rocky had to win.

And he did.

And, in the eyes of most viewers, that should have been the end of that particular film franchise. But it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Part III came along a few years later. Rocky and Apollo had joined forces after Rocky's trainer died while Rocky was preparing for his bid to reclaim the title from the thug who took it from him, Clubber Lang (played by then–popular TV star Mr. T).

The film was astonishingly successful — and impressive (by second sequel standards) — but everyone I knew said this certainly must be the last installment in the series, the third and final chapter of the Rocky "trilogy."

But Rocky wasn't finished. Thus, it was on this day 25 years ago that the "Rocky" franchise officially jumped the shark, in my view.

It was in the midst of the Reagan administration, the Cold War, the anti–Soviet hysteria, and "Rocky" promoted the kind of feel–good political propaganda that was so prevalent in those days — that America and democracy were better than Russia and communism because one American could beat one Russian in an American movie about boxing.

I refused to contribute to the "Rocky IV" propaganda fest — out of principle. I did see the movie — eventually when it came to TV. I've never seen it on the big screen. At the time, it was virtually a point of pride.

In hindsight, though, that may have been hypocritical of me. Perhaps the "Rocky" franchise always specialized in exploiting the audience's emotions. It just wasn't always blatant about it.

If "Rocky IV" came off as calculating in its exploitation of U.S.–Soviet tensions, wasn't the first film in the series equally guilty of pushing all the right (and timely) emotional buttons with its theme of a perennial underdog getting a shot at the grand prize on the nation's Bicentennial?

And didn't the second film do much the same thing by rewarding viewers with a tangible victory instead of merely a moral one in the sequel? Surely it wasn't coincidental that Rocky, in the words of Perry Seibert of AllMovie.com, "stopped being one of the common men and became an icon" in that second film — released, as it was, in a year marked by a nuclear meltdown, gas lines and, eventually, the hostage crisis in Iran.

In 1979, Americans felt battered. "Rocky II" lifted their spirits and made them feel things were possible.

Certainly the third one did — with the one–time rivals, Rocky and Apollo, working together to put down the young and roguish (and aptly named) Clubber Lang.

From there, of course, we came to this day 25 years ago, when politics was introduced into the mix.

I wish I could say the "Rocky" series ended in 1985, but it didn't. There was a "Rocky V" in 1990. I never saw it, not even on TV, but I saw ads for it.

Rocky had been staggered in his fight with the Russian (a political metaphor, perhaps?) and was realizing, like many athletes, that his talents were leaving him as he aged so Rocky, reluctant to leave the sport entirely, ran a gym and promoted a young protege. He and the protege had a falling out, and Rocky disappeared from movie screens.

The series seemed to be over.

But then, in 2006 — 30 years after the original film was released — Rocky returned in "Rocky Balboa," I never saw it, but I have been told it was a pretty good movie. Maybe, but it sounded a little implausible to me.

Nevertheless, that was the fifth and supposedly final sequel.

I still think Rocky jumped the shark 25 years ago today.

Friday, May 21, 2010

When The Empire Struck Back



The summer of 1980 is remembered — without much fondness — for a brutal heat wave that subjected just about everyone to unseasonably severe temperatures.

No place — or person — was spared. I remember being here in Dallas, where it is ordinarily hot seven or eight months every year, and being aware of how many consecutive 100–plus–degree days the city endured (something like seven or eight weeks, as I recall) — and Dallas wasn't barely passing the century mark, either. It got well over 100 much of the time — which wasn't too surprising since it really didn't cool off at night.

The most unsettling memory from that summer that has remained with me is of riding in a car on the streets of Dallas — and actually hearing the asphalt squish beneath the tires.

But I don't think the heat wave was under way on May 21 of that year. Things were heating up, all right, but more in a metaphorical than physical sense — although the physical did play a role. Mount St. Helens had just erupted. President Carter and Ted Kennedy were battling for the Democratic nomination. CNN was about to launch the era of the all–news, all–the–time TV networks.

While all this was going on, the sequel to the surprise hit of 1977, "Star Wars," made its debut at the theaters 30 years ago today. It received a tremendous buildup at a time when such heavy–duty promotion was not unheard of but still relatively rare.

And, in all honesty, I wondered how any movie could live up to such hype. I'm sure there were others who wondered the same thing.

But I have often thought that "The Empire Strikes Back" was an effective rebuttal to those who insist that movie sequels are always disappointments. I knew that wasn't true — because I had seen the first two "Godfather" movies, and I always felt that the sequel was better than the original. (I can't say, though, that I thought much of the third movies that served as the finales for either the "Godfather" or "Star Wars" trilogies.)

And, in the years since, I have seen the "Spider–Man" movies, the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy and other movies that have proven they weren't simply cheap attempts to cash in on the originals.

"The Empire Strikes Back" may have set the bar unbelievably high for me when it comes to standards for sequels. It really lived up to the publicity — perhaps because everyone understood that this wasn't the end of the story. A third movie was already in the works.

Viewers didn't seem to mind the many loose strings that were left dangling at the end of a movie that never pretended to contain the resolution to all the story lines and managed to ratchet up interest in a third film that was still three years away.

When Darth Vader told Luke he was really his father, the audience understood it was true — and that the conflict would be resolved in the third movie. The audience never seemed to notice that, only minutes before earnestly appealing to Luke to join him, Darth Vader seemed pretty intent upon killing him and even succeeded in slicing off Luke's right hand — not very fatherly things to do and not exactly the kind of tactic most people use to win other people's allegiance.

The audience forgave that sort of thing and accepted the cliffhanger of an ending — it even accepted the dark and at times depressing story — presumably because the public loved the swashbuckling, futuristic characters in a conflict between good and evil that was as big as, well, the universe.

It was the highest–grossing film of 1980. In fact, it has earned more than $530 million, which, when adjusted for inflation, makes it #12 all time.

Not bad for a film that was made with an $18 million budget.