Three Movies in Search of a Sequel

Movie sequels are not new. Despite the plethora of horrendously conceived and egregiously executed sequels to movies that didn’t need sequels that bombard the local googolplex every summer, the idea of cashing in on an existing property has been around since movies began. Back in the 30s and 40s, however, they typically weren’t called sequels, but rather series. As in The Andy Hardy Series, or the Thin Man Series. The major difference between these sequels and their modern day counterparts is that the older movies were true sequels and not just remakes. A Thin Man movie, for instance, would use the same characters, but tell a different story; it would still be a mystery, but everything else would be different. Compare that to the average sequel of the last twenty years. Is Halloween VII really anything but a remake of the original? The same goes for the majority of sequels, though there are exceptions such as the Spiderman movies, or the Star Wars saga. But true sequels are few and far between. Do we really need them?

For the most part, no. Having said that, there are a handful of classic movies in which a case can be made that a sequel should be made. And if not should, then at least could.

The Candidate, starring Robert Redford, came out in the early 70s and still stands as one of the sharpest and most incisive political movies of all time. A sly satire in its time, it now seems almost quaint in its portrait of the machinations of a political campaign. Redford plays a young lawyer tapped to run a campaign against a long time California Senator. He stands no chance of winning and isn’t even supposed to. His job is merely to bring attention to the flaws of Sen. Crocker Jarmon. (People love Crocker Jarmon. And Crocker Jarmon loves people.) Well, not really, but he claims to.

Jarmon is a typical right-wing conservative phony and that is probably the film’s only real flaw; it divides good and bad a little too clearly. Still, Redford’s young, idealistic lawyer proves to have rather deep reserves of ambition. When faced with the news that he’s only supposed to lose, but he’s going to get creamed, he begins to take things seriously. The result is both hilarious and chilling resulting in one of the greatest fade-outs in movie history when, after actually winning the seat in a stunning upset, Redford faces his James Carville/Karl Rove campaign manager and asks simply, “What do we do now?”

It’s been over thirty years since Bob McKay won that Senate seat. Time enough for a few re-elections and much more political clout. Perhaps it is time for McKay to run for President. Against a right-wing conservative phony he looks American straight in the eye and lies to them. (_______ ___________ loves Americans. And Americans love _______ ________). The time is ripe as never before to examine the consequences of power upon an idealist. McKay would no doubt be a much different person than he is now. His face would be lined with years of experience and defeat, with the occasional victory. This is the chance to atone for the flaw in the original. While the incumbent President might very well be a phony, he needn’t be a war-love, poor-hating, illegal-spying authorizing jerk. Who the heck would believe that America would re-elect someone like that in the first place?

Hmm. Well, anyway, this would be a perfect chance for the filmmakers to present real politics on film. A deeply flawed liberal who has had to compromise maybe one too many times versus a deeply flawed conservative who nonetheless has the ability to sell his agenda. I believe this movie should not only star Robert Redford, but Redford should also direct it. While his directing career has been shaky-overestimated in Ordinary People, underappreciated in The Milagro Beanfield War-I also believe that Redford has the ability to tape into the political undercurrents beneath any film. Although he didn’t direct All the President’s Men, his sensibility as producer is quite evident. And Quiz Show is proof enough that the man knows how to deal with a personality in constant conflict with its good and bad points.

Now is the time for The Candidate: The Presidency. (A working title).

Ensemble coming of age movies provide perfect opportunities for sequels. So many stories to examine, you can’t go wrong. Well, maybe. Any cursory examination of More American Graffiti will confirm that things can go wrong. But that film shouldn’t be used as an excuse. After all, the mistake there was in presenting the stories of so many characters who no longer interacted with each other. The strength of these kinds of movies is not the story so much as the chemistry. In fact, more often than not, the ensemble coming of age movies that succeed and last and imprint themselves upon the consciousness of moviegoers are those with the best interaction between actors.

Two of these movies stand out for inclusion among my list of strong candidates for a sequel. Only one should be made now, however. At some point in the future, in another ten years perhaps, I think a great movie could be made telling us whatever happened to those heroin addicts in Trainspotting. The only problem, really, is that it would be very difficult to convince us that they all lived that long. Begbie surely would be dead and that would be unfortunate because his story alone could make a great sequel.

I believe now is the perfect time for a sequel to Diner. Barry Levinson’s ode to Baltimore youth making the transition between boy and man still stands as probably the single best ensemble coming of age movie of all time. Though not as visceral as Trainspotting or as universal as American Graffiti, Diner succeeds for two reasons: writing and acting.

This may be the most entertaining script ever written. I can very well imagine sitting down and reading this script like a novel. But it wouldn’t be as good. Because, though the writing is excellent, it’s the performances that brings these hilarious encounters to life. All three of these movies produced a ridiculous amount of movie stars. American Graffiti probably holds the record for the largest number of recognizable actors who could walk down a street in anonymity before the movie came out. Harrison Ford, Cindy Williams, Richard Dreyfuss, Suzanne Somers, Mackenzie Phillips, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Trainspotting introduced most of America to Ewan McGregor and Robert Carlyle, two actors sure to be on any serious movie fan’s list of the ten best actors of the past decade, as well as Jonny Lee Miller who should be breaking out into stardom any movie now.

Let’s look at the core of Diner: Daniel Stern, Kevin Bacon, Ellen Barkin, Paul Reiser, Timothy Daly, Steve Guttenberg, Michael Tucker and Mickey Rourke. When you take into consideration that Mickey Rourke’s patented soft-spoken weirdo routine was fresh at the time, that’s a pretty decent cast.

What more reason do you need to want a sequel. Just getting that cast back together, under the direction of Levinson and with a script written by him, would be enough. Forget about the story; there was no story in the original. It’s been roughly 25 years since Diner was released, which would put the characters firmly in middle age and living through the same era in which their story was brought to the screen, the early 80s.

Who doesn’t want to know if Fenwick finally killed himself? Is Boogie dead or just in jail? Are Shrevie and Beth still together and are his records still in order? (The age of CDs is looming, there’s a good subplot right there). The original movie revolved around Guttenberg’s character getting married and requiring his future wife to pass a quiz about the Colts. This movie could take place in 1984 and revolve around Eddie’s decision to follow his Colts to Indianapolis or stay in Baltimore. I mean, you know, if you really need a “plot.”

I don’t require a plot. All I need from this movie sequel is to find out Modell’s first name, and whether or not he ever says, “I want the roast beef sandwich.”

Probably the most controversial movie on this list will be my last one. I’m not saying that A Clockwork Orange cries out for a sequel. I’m not even saying it would be a good idea. I’m just saying that there are elements of this classic that lend credence to the idea of a sequel. And, besides, they made a sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey, so it’s not like Kubrick is untouchable. I would hope, however, that a sequel to A Clockwork Orange would be infinitely better than 2010 was.

To those who will claim it is sacrilege to remake Kubrick, especially without Kubrick, I will say this: If they can make a sequel to the Old Testament without the world coming to an end, then they can certainly make a sequel to a Kubrick movie.

Why even bother? There is a problem with the original; a flaw if you will. It may be the only flaw in this masterpiece, but it’s there. Unlike President Bush who has held fast to the philosophy of life and beliefs that held at age 20 (and unlike his ideal Supreme Court justice, who is expected to hold the same judicial views twenty years from now as when he chose them) most of us evolve mentally as we age. We find that we truly didn’t have all the answers at age 20. We learn new things; we are exposed to new ideas. We incorporate these new ideas and develop new patterns of thinking and new philosophies.

A Clockwork Orange has a decide generation gap at play within it. There is a divide between the youth and the older generation. Alex is a hero (antihero) with a youth-based outlook on life. And that is there the germ of an idea for the sequel should begin.

If A Clockwork Orange is about anything, it is about how emotions and response can be controlled and manipulated. The film speaks eloquently on behalf of the psychology of conditioned response put forward by Pavlov and Skinner. But Alex was young and his violent response was characterized, in part, as a youthful response. But how would Alex respond to violence around him as he grew older and less capable of protecting himself against a new generation of Alexes?

The terrific thing about a sequel to A Clockwork Orange is that there are two distinctly separate paths to take and both of them have the potential to be fascinating. In the first idea, the sequel could focus on how Alex responds to an increasingly violent world in his older years. Does Alex willingly choose to move closer to what he had become as a result of the Ludovico Technique in the first film? Perhaps Alex reaches a moment of epiphany in which he admits that he has rejected that vision of himself and life expressed at the end of the original. Could it be that an Alex allowed free will would freely choose to move back toward his fascistic personality that he was conditioned to accept?

An alternative and oppositional idea for a sequel could present a world that has moved toward the fascism desired by those who conditioned Alex without the need for such intense, personalized methods. Instead of changing personality one at a time through the Ludovico Technique, the television and the computer could have been used for conditioning the masses. Indeed, in the sequel, the world in which Alex lives more closely resembles our own world more than any bizarre outgrowth of the world of his youth. Alex could still be the wild child he was as a youth, but the world around him has followed suit. The question then becomes: how does the older Alex respond to this conditioning of responses that he recognizes as being nothing more than a less extreme version of what he was put through?

There are surely many other movies that could demand a sequel. The question really becomes less why are so many sequels made than why are so many sequels not made? True enough, most sequels are unnecessary. Also true is that most of those sequels that were a good idea were badly executed; either they weren’t completely thought-out before filming began, or the potential was overlooked in pursuit of a fast buck. It is not by accident that none of the movies I am recommending for the sequel treatment are less than twenty years old. (I am recommending the more recent Trainspotting, but not for another ten years at least). Time is the best judge for whether a movie should have a sequel. Telling the story of the same people two years later usually results in more of a remake than a true sequel.

The best sequel would ideally take a look at the same characters at a different point in their lives. We could see how they changed not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. This gives characters the chance to grow and evolve. And that’s always more fascinating than simply watching the exact same people we saw just a year or two ago.