2 many

While there are a lot of movie franchises out there, there's also the perception that there are relatively few properties on which audiences will reliably spend their money, which is why Hollywood vastly prefers continuing with existing franchises than trying to create new ones.

The logical conclusion from that, then -- and what I think every time summer rolls around -- is that this will finally be the summer that catches these relatively few franchises at exactly the wrong point, the summer when there will finally be no new tentpoles to support the movie season.

That's always wrong, of course, as we are now getting more and more fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth movies in series. That used to be just the territory of Friday the 13th. Now, respectable franchises will go on and on into cinematic oblivion without batting an eyelash.

What does seem to be the case, though, is that we would expect each summer movie season to be propped up exclusively by films that have reached that far end of the sequel spectrum. Which is why it's all the more surprising how many movies I've seen in 2018 that are only the modest second in their respective series.

Nights like Friday night tend to accentuate that, as I watched a double feature of the second Paddington movie and the second Pacific Rim movie. Both new franchises, obviously, but based on known properties (a beloved children's book) or types of movies that have historically been successful (giant creatures fighting each other in urban landscapes).

Both were movies I meant to watch last weekend, both rentals from our Fetch box (kind of like OnDemand). But Pacific Rim was going to take too long to download, so I couldn't watch it Saturday night like I'd planned (I scratched that itch, so to speak, with the regrettable Battleship), and Paddington was rejected by my kids on Sunday night, though they ultimately did watch it Friday night, sort of because I forced them to -- it was going to expire if I didn't. They liked it okay. (I liked it much better, though not at the "freshest tomato on Rotten Tomatoes" level.)

But these were far from my only second movies in 2018. I'd noticed the trend long before Friday night. In 2018 I have also seen:

Super Troopers 2
Deadpool 2
Incredibles 2
Ant-Man and the Wasp
Sicario: Day of the Soldado
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

You could, of course, argue that Fallen Kingdom is the fifth Jurassic Park movie rather than the second Jurassic World movie, but the rebranding makes the opposite argument easier to make.

Perhaps one of the reasons it's been easier for me to notice, especially as I've scanned my in-progress movie rankings, is that a surprising number of these movies have actually used the number 2 in their titles. That's something studios have been dropping -- see Sicario, Jurassic World and Pacific Rim -- as they've thought it's been in their interest to deemphasize the idea that it's a sequel, preferring to make it "just another adventure in this world." So they want us to know we're consuming the next installment in these franchises, but not that it's that icky word "sequel." Quite a complicated mental game they are playing with us.

But Super Troopers, Incredibles, Paddington and Deadpool have all pushed back against that trend, sometimes for reasons of self-deprecation (Deadpool) but mostly just for simplicity of marketing. As Paddington 2 is a consummately uncynical movie, it stands to reason that it would also not try to trick us with a title like Paddington: Resurgence. Which also functions as a bit of a compliment of our intelligence.

Of course, I have to mention the exceptions. This year I've also seen the third Hotel Transylvania movie, the third Avengers movie (do we even think of it as the third in that series anymore?), the third Cloverfield movie (loosely connected) and the fourth Ocean's movie. I guess I've just seen almost every sequel this year, whether it was the first, second or third. I did pass on the third Fifty Shades movie, having also passed on the second.

Two more #2s are also being released this week, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again and The Equalizer 2. I'm out on the second Equalizer as I haven't seen the first, and actively passed up Mamma Mia! on Thursday night in favor of The Gospel According to Andre. I did have a moment when I was watching this humorous Onion review of Here We Go Again when they said it was a sequel to the 2008 movie. There's no way it feels like ten years since Mamma Mia!, though I did review it for my old site and I stopped writing for that site in 2011, so I guess it makes sense.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the bunch of second movies I'm seeing this year is how good they are. Not only do I like the second Deadpool, Paddington, Ant-Man and Incredibles movies better than the first in those series (a marginal preference with Incredibles), but all those movies are currently in my top 11 for the year. (Paddington, the most beloved of those, currently sits at #11).

When you come right down to it, though, my experience with sequels this year is probably only notable because I happened to notice it. Probably, I could write some version of this post every year. That's the thing about Hollywood. Even when we look at what's coming out and see it as just more of the same, Hollywood has figured out how to surreptitiously insert new properties that we quickly forget haven't been around forever.

Which I guess is a good thing, sort of?

White bird, black panther

Yesterday, February 15th, was an important day on the Australian cinematic calendar. The best movie of 2017 and the best movie of 2018 both opened -- on the same day. (Well, I suppose either of them could be challenged for their respective honors by Paddington 2, depending on what hemisphere you live in, as the movie was released in a different year here than it was in the States.)

That's right, a mere 104 days after the date of its first limited release in the U.S., best picture nominee (frontrunner?) Lady Bird finally graced our shores. A day before its U.S. release, so did Black Panther.

And yes, they both have ridiculously high ratings on Rotten Tomatoes. The once unblemished Lady Bird still stands tall at 99%, while Black Panther sits a mere percentage point behind it at 98%. (Glad my editor at ReelGood does not get tabulated on RT, as he gave it a mere 5 out of 10.) Humorously, both movies still do trail Paddington 2, which remains at 100%.

Their release dates and high RT scores is where the comparison between these two movies seems to end.

Though they could be flip sides of the same coin.

Although it has not suffered for this in any significant way, Lady Bird may be one of the last of a dying breed -- a movie craving widespread mainstream acceptance that does not have any characters of color in significant roles. In scanning the credits list on IMDB, it appears that there is a Latino guy and a woman who seems to be of mixed race, though without having seen the movie, I can't comment on the size of their roles. I can say they are 10th and 11th on the cast list, though.

Black Panther is kind of the opposite, though this, paradoxically, does not seem to be as much of a problem in today's climate. (Which, unmistakably, seems like a good thing to me.) Instead of token minorities, it has token whites, as Andy Serkis is the 12th ranked member of the cast, followed by David S. Lee three spots later.

As I said, this is a good thing. Until I came up with the current take on its release, I was going to write a post heralding the opening of Black Panther with a title along the lines of "Marvel makes a movie with a bunch of black people in it." You know, summarizing a very exciting development -- a Wonder Woman-style development in terms of its social significance -- in a provocative manner that would certainly turn your head if you weren't expecting it.

But we also know Marvel only does things that it thinks are in its best financial interest, which is the truly encouraging thing about Black Panther. The movie has proven Marvel right, shattering ticket presale records, because there is a collective hunger for this type of movie, obviously among black audiences, but among white audiences who find themselves poised to embrace the type of movie that might have made them feel alienated just five years ago. White audiences -- thinking white audiences, anyway, which may only be a small percentage of them -- want this. Not as much as black audiences do, but they want it too. And that's fantastic.

You know that thing where you walk into a movie that isn't aimed at you, and you find yourself in kind of a demographic Twilight Zone? "Oh, this is what it feels like to be ... a three-year-old kid, or an old person, or yes, a black person." Well congratulations on this "unique" experience. This is how black audiences felt for years, when only a handful of films each year truly felt like a reflection of their lives and experiences. And since those movies weren't made with big budgets by big studios, they often didn't attract the most talented filmmakers, or actors.

Well, that may be changing. Slowly, but then sometimes dramatically. Black Panther still could have continued taking baby steps by making a movie that was, maybe, two-thirds black. Five years ago, it might not have dared to be any more than 51% black in the cast. And it almost definitely wouldn't have been directed by a black man, though Ryan Coogler is one of the best talents we have going of any race.

But this is 2018, and something has happened -- something in our culture that has allowed this to happen. At a time when things seem their worst under Trump, something is still bubbling underneath, more like a majority than a minority, that celebrates the diversity that seemed to be repudiated by the last election.

And hallelujah, amen.

So where does that leave Lady Bird? I guess the answer is, Lady Bird will be fine. Lady Bird has always been fine, and it will continue to have a place in the cinematic landscape. You can't really make a movie with no black characters anymore, anyway, though some people still try. Lady Bird is close, but not totally there. And it's directed by a woman, so at least that's something. And I still look forward to trying to see it over the next week ... though I will see Black Panther first.

I do think there's an important shift that's occurring, that makes Lady Bird seem like the movie that's a bit tone deaf, a bit antique, a bit in its own hermetically sealed universe in which not only the people are white, but the problems are also white, no matter how many characters who are not quite white it may have in it. I think we are moving closer to a Black Panther world, and that's a world I want to live in.

And hallelujah, amen.