What else do you call it? At the Chain tonight I watched, for the umpteenth time, a commercial promoting the new Shrek boxset, which includes all four movies in one package.
Four movies? Last I checked, stories were told in sets of three. But now there are four Shrek movies (I've only seen the first two), and a fourth Indiana Jones movie, and probably other examples to boot that I can't think of because I'm tired, and a few drinks in (The Terminator, not to mention the television series). This commercial tonight got me thinking about 4-Quels, however, and what they might possibly demonstrate about the changing face of American entertainment, and the more important aesthetics of the structure of modern story telling, which are entirely profit-minded.
Shrek is a good series, there's no denying. The characters and stories are solid, the actors are strong and the jokes are intelligent. Why does this franchise need a fourth installment, besides the fact that there's a willing market for it?
Three is a holy number in some books and a perfect number in mine. Three is the number of Star Wars films, and Lord of the Rings books AND films, the number of original Indiana Jones films, the number of Pirates of the Caribbean films (a fourth is on the way); etc. But, I want to focus attention on the Matrix franchise, which represents three films in what I consider to be the crux of a mythology's three-motion arc trifecta: the cycle of birth, life, and death.
What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs at night? This is the Riddle of the Sphinx, a contained statement that's been around for thousands of years, and really puts a lid on my philosophy of a three-motion arc, that life happens in three stages. We are born, we live, we die. In the most successful three-film franchises this riddle explains the framework of each installment: the character is born into his circumstances in the inaugural film, suffers any and all circumstances in the sequel, and completes his story in the final piece. Think about Star Wars, where in the Part I. Luke discovers he's a Jedi, learns the ways of the force and gains wisdom (through suffering) in Part II., and ultimately defeats the Evil in Part III. (Nerds, leave me alone on the technicalities). I suppose Indiana Jones doesn't quite follow this exact logic, but the third film is still supposed to be the finale, and that's why they blow their budget on bringing Sean Connery in as Indiana's father.
The Matrix is really the best franchise to explore, because in the first film Neo is literally born (that whole scene after he takes the red pill, and the crew picks him out of a sewer; and then Neo discovers who and what he really is, when he starts believing); in the second film Neo lives (an sharp observer might realize that this is the only of the three films which explicitly features SEX); in the third film, many of the characters die (yes, Neo dies), completing the cycle.
I'm just going to come out and say that the Matrix franchise, as a whole, is really underrated. I don't care what you say about the last two films.
But, if we accept the subversion of this time-honored tradition of presenting stories in inherently metaphorical épisodes de trois, what does is say about how we stand as a unified consciousness?
My only solution to this question is that we've reached a point, probably in the last fifteen years or so, where we break our life in half, and break those halves into halves, instead of defining the chronology of our individual lives into three key eras. We no longer are born, live, and die; now, we are born, live, live some more, and then die.
Essentially, adulthood is being broken into three stages instead of two. I propose that the first stage begins around college-age, when you're no longer living under your parents' roof but are still too stupid or young to be a functionable adult; the second stage is between your initial awakening as a functionable adult, and subsequent bloom into the impossibility of adulthood, which seems to be coming later and later to today's youth, although my standards are based on strongly biased observations; the third stage begins with that first trip to the eye doctor, or gynecologist, or proctologist, or whatever. Maybe the third stage begins when you fully realize that you are, "too old."
I could be full of it, but I think that if Hollywood continues to turn against tradition in order to make a few more bills, and keep a few more employees busy, there will be consequences. A restructuring of what is the inherent Western aesthetic. We know, when the third film in a series is released, that the series is finished (making concessions for the clear outliers, like James Bond, and Batman). How are we supposed to accept a franchise's neat conclusion when it's the fourth film? How do we reconcile that?
Perhaps two more Shrek films are on the way, but as a final point, I simply can't take six movies starring that great big oaf and his irritating donkey sidekick. Especially in the span of only so many years. At least these older franchises have history on their side. What burns me the most is this, a studio that knows it can rake in so much cash based on an established franchise, will pursue such a course, with little or no regard for the franchise as tabled, instead of trying to come up with something new and interesting. We like Shrek, but maybe that's because DreamWorks hasn't given us anything new to take our minds off of Shrek, through since it's their budget it's partially their responsibility to manufacture new entertainment material. I can't really argue for the masses, however, one way or the other.
I can't finish this though as completely as I want to, either, but I wanted to get the grease out there, on any other gears that come through here. Maybe someone else has deeper thoughts than I can muster, and would be interested in pursuing them.
I'm going to try waking up at ten tomorrow, and it's not going to happen.
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