Remember I3T? Well, he’s a busy man these days. I would like to tell you all why, but that’s not my tale to tell. Those Spacecasts, well, they sometimes still happen in telephone conversations. (His new job involves a lot of walking!) One night, we were discussing the return of Beetlejuice, the latest in a long line of older films getting a sequel long after the original.
The gist of the conversation was that I had enjoyed the movie. I3T had seen it and not so much. He felt it didn’t need a sequel.
Then it hit me. He didn’t like the film because it was an unwelcome reminder. This was because the film was not “our” Beetlejuice. The cast we watched in 1988 don’t look like it’s 1988 anymore, no matter the image you have in your head. A reminder that we don’t look like we did in 1988 anymore either.
My exact words were: “I think you don’t like it because it’s a greatest hits movie, a goodbye.”
There was a silence, then an admission.
“You’re right. On some level, that is exactly what it is. A farewell tour.”
I have heard all the arguments against legacy sequels, from “Can’t they make anything new?” to “They’re just not as good.” I’ve even subscribed to some of these views myself. But just as I wrote when I took the nephews to watch the latest Ghostbusters, part of getting to grips with this is understanding that they’re not “our” toys anymore.
Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be looking at how some of our favourites are back again.
How we are seeing, through the legacy sequel dust, the toys we once loved being brushed off and handed down to the next generation.
You know what?
I’m fine with that.