Going back as far as The Iliad and its logical continuation, The Odyssey (albeit different main character), the Greek literary genius, Homer, knew a good story didn’t need a trilogy. Hollywood, disobeying Homer’s example by way of exploitation for profits, has been pumping out sequels for quite some time now, most notably with yearly entries since the birth of the original Bond series in the early 60s.
Sequels work (sometimes). They sell (mostly). And more importantly, people want to see them, regardless of the lack of originality or weak character development that eventually sets in after the original. Viewers will complain of its upcoming existence, but still, they will sneak into a theatre to watch the latest installment.
So, why does the third entry in a trilogy typically suffer and why is it that other times they surprise with decent additions? Because there usually isn’t any more worthwhile stories to tell about that subject or that character. Read more to learn why writers should stop while they are ahead.
Why does a Trilogy Work?
Not all trilogies suck. In fact, to be fair, there are quite a few that hinder my argument. Nonetheless, what are the elements making them enjoyable?
Similar Structure
Take the most obvious reason: the third story directly copies (or very closely mimics) the original, beat-for-beat, thusly ensuring at least some hope of critical and commercial success. The end goals will be different, as they should, but how the main character must achieve those goals tends to raise suspicion of the authenticity of the writer and the studio’s ability to conjure innovative ideas.
Example number one: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Sure, it incorporates Jones’ father this time out, but it still cries for comparison with its originator, Raiders of the Lost Ark. The main villains are once again Nazis. But the biggest similarity is the desired object itself: The Holy Grail. The filmmakers kept the supernatural/religious element of Jones searching for the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders and instead replaced it with the Cup of Christ. And it worked.
There is a surefire argument claiming Crusade reigns supreme over the entire series. After the monstrosity that was Temple of Doom (which is actually a prequel), the producers needed to resort back to formula, which they did—and developed a worthy installment that ended the franchise perfectly, as all third entries should.
Depth of Character
The second example is 1995s chapter of the Die Hard series: Die Hard with a Vengeance. Arguably the best sequel in the franchise, even giving the first a run for its money, it gets the story done correctly. How? Well, maybe because the second, Die Harder, was not just a lazy title, but a lame progression of the John McClane character. In fact, Die Harder did not see McClane change at all. He did not learn anything new about himself. Sequels must not only tell a new story, but they must also reveal to the viewer of a new side to an existing character.
Vengeance, however, learned and decided to take McClane and good Samaritan, Zeus (played perfectly by Sam Jackson), through an epic ride throughout the boroughs of gritty New York. In Vengeance, the wife, Holly, is history. Because of her absence, McClane became a drunkard, making him far different than viewers have seen him in the previous films, thus making him more interesting when making choices.
And, likely the most crucial element, is the not-so-subtle weaving of racial prejudice in Vengeance. Zeus clearly has a grudge from before his first meeting with McClane. The tension hits a high mark when they work together to thwart the mad bomber’s puzzles—which supplies the most potent and fun villain in the 90s. Here, the antagonist is a blood-relative to the baddie of the first, making it seem as if the plot of the story is designed to revolve around revenge for Hans’ death. Vengeance works because it maintains a relevant linking of adversary reprisal, in addition to the same old main character who now has lost everything, but must fight to help others.
A key to a successful sequel is some type, big or small, of a surprising connection to the original. The connection cannot be obvious. It cannot be a similarity that is easily seen by the reader or the viewer before it is revealed. If done correctly, it will recharge interest in the audience, as the first usually is held as the best in any series.
Why Doesn’t a Trilogy Work?
Regardless of the extreme nature of the fantastical involved in the genre, the threat of certain death must present itself as a lurking possibility, especially to the main character. Without this element, storytelling, in general, is worthless.
Dead Men and Resurrection
A prime illustration is the Pirates of the Caribbean series. Currently, the tale of Jack Sparrow is five (5!) films deep—far exceeding any decent arcs of the Sparrow character worth telling. At this point, Sparrow has been reduced to goofy one-liners.
With the brave death of the Sparrow character at the finale of the second film, it left movie-goers surprised at such a result of a beloved character to die. Surely, a series could not go on without Sparrow, so after some unbelievable maneuvering of a ship, Sparrow’s disciples resurrected the dead captain and the plot finally begun to unfold into a trilogy of Sparrow.
As ecstatic as viewers were to see Sparrow return, they may have missed the glaring inconsistency his comeback meant. Any time a character can return from the dead, it strips threat from a story. Suspension of disbelief, is, of course, needed in all fiction. However, when concrete certainty like death can be cheated, it makes everything afterward pure farce and dull. It implies that, eventually, the main character will always get what they want, because not even the loss of his or her life can stop the achievement of a goal.
Sure, it may seem like a good idea to bring back a character that has died, but it isn’t. It could lead to more revenue for the writer and the actor, but it will do damage to the integrity of the series in the long run.
Convolution of a Trilogy
Superman 2 (1981), Spider-Man 2 (2004), Scream 2 (1997), and Aliens (1986)—all these films are just as enjoyable, if not better than their predecessors. These successful second entries were made with the realization that making a new impression while keeping loyalty and continuity to the original, was paramount. Aliens amps up the action. Superman 2 brings in a trio of villains with connections to Superman’s history. Scream 2 kills a major character from the first entry. Spider-Man 2 has Parker lose his confidence. In the third movies that followed, these elements that worked so well in the second movie were absent. They failed as a trilogy.
-
Spiderman
The very first two (and best) Spiderman films, starring Toby Maguire are noteworthy. The first film introduced Peter Parkers, told his story, and ended with him making the decision to forgo Mary Jane’s affection for his duty as a superhero. Spiderman 2 was a direct result of those decisions.
Part 2 explained how Parker didn’t like those choices. He wanted to be both, Spiderman and have the love of Mary Jane. Finally, in the end, Mary Jane finds out he is Spiderman. Because of her revelation, Peter Parker is able to have both. Happily ever after. It should have ended there.
Spiderman 3 was a mess, mainly because it decided to retcon Uncle Ben’s death for the sake of the plot. Doing this was not only an insult to fans (it basically lies to them by retconning) and it makes the first 2 movies irrelevant because of that lie. If Sam Raimi’s Spiderman series ended with part 2, it would have gone done in the history books as a superhero masterpiece.
-
The Godfather
The Godfather is one of the best movies ever made. It introduces the characters properly. Don Corleone has his arc and died. His son, Michael, had the greatest arc in the whole movie. We saw him take over the family business at the end. It could have been done with right there. No need for a sequel (or to make a trilogy).
However, The Godfather part 2 needed to show how Michael was doing as the new Don. It needed to show his struggles. And it did. His arc once again showed how he made decisions about business and his family, and how they both intertwined in negative ways. That is the key. That is why part 2 worked so well. The filmmakers needed to merge the plot and character arc to make a great story. The story ends with the extremely difficult choice to kill his brother who had betrayed him by aligning with his rivals.
No need for a part 3, right? But they did. Nearly 20 years later. Too much time had passed for anyone to care about the Godfather series anymore. And the story sucked. Michael already completed his arc so strongly in part 2 that any story told afterward would have gone stale—and it did. Part 3 tried to introduce new villains and characters that were not in the previous films and suffered for it. Without a direct and powerful/emotional connection from the previous stories, any sequel will fail.
Alien 3 (a mimicked version of the original, Alien) killed two of the main characters from Aliens off-screen. Superman 3 incorporated an artificial intelligence supercomputer with the help of the Richard Pryor-character’s foolishness. Scream 3 tried to weave in an intricate and new backstory to the Sydney Prescott character, resulting in boredom, as those things were never mentioned before about a dead character who never appeared alive in any of the films.
The last, and basic, answer to the drag of the third installment in a trilogy, is all of the promising ideas has sailed off. Writers know this as they attempt to create something that does not put audience members to sleep. As a result, they retcon the past experiences that made the main characters who they are.
In the universe of filmmaking, retcon proves the worst choice for a studio. Spider-Man 3, universally panned, revealed that Uncle Ben’s death was not how it originally was presented to Parker (and to the audience, which is the real problem). Trilogies, for all intent and purposes, try too hard to please by applying extreme measures and oftentimes, imploding from such choices.
Forget Trilogies like Quentin
Analyzing these series’ raises the question: is a trilogy worth it? Does there sincerely need to be three movies to tell a story? A trilogy is asking for lots of different character development and unique plots each time around. One can argue that any uniqueness provided simply does not have the longevity through three movies.
You can tell everything needed in two stories—taking Homer’s lead. Quentin Tarantino, seemingly, feels the same. The only direct continuation he has made in his catalog (the Kill Bill films) lasted, like the aforementioned Greek epics, two films. Tarantino knew that The Bride’s character arc was complete after Vol. 2. To bring her back for another sequel would do her character a disservice and might start her character down an ugly path some viewers might not respect.
Originality in Hollywood storytelling, it appears, is a new fundamental, which is not dwelled upon by its producers. If it has the potential to sell, they will probably make it. Endless sequels and prequels and reboots and remakes have taken precedence over telling new, fresh stories, thereby wiping clean authenticity and excitement.
Maybe, in the years to come, when the Hollywood machine dries up, movie-making will resort back to techniques and ideas that allow films the freedom to stop a good story at two movies. And only make a trilogy when they truly have a good story to tell.
Am I wrong?
Are there any trilogies you think are worthy that I didn’t mention?
And if you want to amplify the suspense in your short story or your novel, you can purchase my eBook here.
Keep Writing!
~M