Earlier today, I stumbled upon this classic Calvin and Hobbes comic strip:
(Please excuse the size of the strip. I wanted you to be able to read it.)
Update the antiquated ticket prices, and this strip could have been written yesterday. (That's a testament to the greatness of Calvin and Hobbes, but that's a whole other article.) Unfortunately, most Hollywood executives share Calvin's attitude: why try something new when we can keep doing what we already know works? Let's keep doing superhero movies at the rate of dozens a year! Look at all these TV shows we can make into movies! Let's drag out franchises beyond all reason!
In other words, an executive's reasoning goes something like this: "Let's milk the cash cow 'til it's dry, then beat it 'til it's dead!"
Of course, this is nothing new. The movie business is a business, after all, and studios care less about creating art than they do about filling their coffers. Probably the most prominent example of this is the movie sequel. What could be a surer bet than putting a blockbuster's name on another movie? It's practically a license to print money!
There are a few unwritten rules for sequels, and they go something like this: Get as many members of the original cast as possible. Stick to the original plot formula. Tell the same jokes that got laughs before. Basically, all these rules boil down to one axiom: give the audience what they expect.
Pretty much every sequel stuck to those unwritten commandments, until 1982. That was the year when a few Hollywood mavericks decided to stick it to the man.
By '82, the Halloween franchise had become a proven moneymaker. John Carpenter's low-budget, independent slasher film had (deservedly) been a huge hit in 1978, and the 1981 sequel, Halloween II, had been equally successful, The franchise's producer, Mustapha Akkad, was anxious for another film, but John Carpenter was growing tired of Michael Myers and his knife. Carpenter and his producing partner Debra Hill eventually agreed to make another Halloween film, with one catch: that it would not be a direct sequel to the first two films. Akkad reluctantly agreed.
The next year, Halloween III: Season of the Witch reached theaters. The film told the story of an evil mask manufacturer and his plan to make Halloween masks that turned kids' faces into pools of bugs. (Don't ask me how that works.) The story is an interesting one, but audiences weren't buying. Halloween III flopped, and studio executives gloated. Why shouldn't they? After all, Halloween III had proven them right. Carpenter, Hill, and company had learned that when you mess with the formula, you get punished.
Things went back to the way things were. Until 2016, that is.
When the trailer for 10 Cloverfield Lane dropped on an unsuspecting public, the public reaction was huge. In 2008, the first film in the Cloverfield franchise, appropriately titled Cloverfield, hit theaters and was a modest success. The found-footage giant-monster flick garnered praise from critics. It got a less-than-shining review from the public at large, but the film did acquire a rabid fan base all its own.
The most interesting aspect of Cloverfield's release (in this author's opinion, anyway) was the amazing viral marketing campaign. It all started with a poster featuring a destroyed Statue of Liberty and a trailer that raised more questions than it answered. That was all the Internet needed to get the ball rolling. Speculation filled the message boards and long articles were written about what the unseen monster would look like. The campaign is arguably the reason why the film is still talked about today.
The marketing campaign for 10 Cloverfield Lane took up the same tack. One confusing element, though: the trailer seemed to have nothing to do with the first film. Rather than getting humans squashed by giant monsters, we had three people locked in a bunker together. One of them (John Goodman) appeared to have a screw loose. Fans were perplexed. How could this possibly connect to the first film? Fans took to their keyboards, and the Cloverfield message boards came to life again.
Then, on March 11, 10 Cloverfield Lane hit the multiplexes. Fans had decidedly mixed feelings. They took to the message boards and said that producer J.J. Abrams and director Dan Trachtenberg had cheated them. Why? I'll tell you after the picture.
Guess what? 10 Cloverfield Lane has almost NOTHING to do with the first film. Rather than being a monster flick reminiscent of Godzilla, 10 Cloverfield Lane is a thriller reminiscent of The Twilight Zone or Alfred Hitchcock Presents. You know what else? It's one of the best sequels we've had in decades.
The famed screenwriter William Goldman has often called sequels "whore movies." Crass, but fair. Most sequels aren't made out of any passion for any story or character. Most sequels are made for only one reason: to rake in the long green. That's why most sequels feature the same plot as the original film. It's easy, and why break a sweat when you're only doing it for the money?
10 Cloverfield Lane is definitely NOT doing it for the money. If they were, the movie would be totally different. J.J. Abrams, Dan Trachtenberg, and the rest of the crew knew that a monster movie would be a sure moneymaker. Did they go the safe route? No. They channeled their inner Rod Serling and gave us a taut, character-driven thriller. (Side note: I wonder if Abrams's work on Serling's script The Stops Along The Way inspired the feel of 10 Cloverfield Lane. Something to wonder about!)
Abrams and company are to be commended for making such a gutsy move. By placing passion for story and character above love of money, they've finished what John Carpenter and Debra Hill tried to do with Halloween III. They've turned the sequel into a true creative enterprise. (And, incidentally, they've also been financially compensated; 10 Cloverfield Lane has already earned triple its production budget and is still going strong!)
With a successful non-direct sequel on the books, Hollywood executives may rethink their attitude toward the sequel. They may allow filmmakers more freedom to do their own thing when making such films. As a result, we may get a lot more creativity in Hollywood movies.
Wishful thinking? Sure. But we can dream, can't we?
