I’m fairly certain that every cinephile out there has an experience at a party or other social gathering where they’ve met someone who has similar feelings over a particular film. The more obscure the film the stronger the connection, typically. But these encounters conclude with a general sentiment that “Yeah, they’re all right.” Now we’re entering this weird era where the biggest, most expensive films aren’t trying to tell compelling stories on their own, but merely trying to recreate that social experience on the screen. They want to wink and nod at you, always saying, “We saw that movie, too!” But these moments almost exclusively happen in big budget films that are based on esteemed classics – it’s not like these are those obscure references that strengthen a connection with a limited few, this is simply broad pandering.
We live in an era that is currently dominated by nostalgia. Nothing exemplifies this perverted longing for the past than Fuller House, the existence of which makes me question my faith in humanity more than 15 minutes of listening to talk radio. Not only are we getting sequels to hits that haven’t aged well like Independence Day, we’re getting continuations to previously established hits – these, of course, happen over 20 years after their peak cultural relevance. Whether we’re talking about Star Trek Into Darkness, the Robocop remake, Jurassic World, or Terminator Genisys, they’re all bound together by their ploys to replace storytelling by reminding you of the past, of that time you were young enough to not think critically.
This year especially, with Jurassic World shattering box office records, this prevalent tendency seems extremely perverse. What Jurassic World and Terminator Genisys do with their multiple callbacks is try and leech off the credibility of a previous movie, to allow that movie and your connection to that movie do the work for the filmmakers instead of, you know, making their own damn movie.
Imagine, if you will, that the makers of Terminator Genisys had taken the time to write a coherent story instead of painstakingly try and recreate scenes from James Cameron’s 1984 original. From there, all the film does is try and provide a twist on the original, though it inadvertently doesn’t realize that in its time traveling story it has basically wiped away the most popular films from the continuity. Then the film just lifts dialogue and sequences from the more popular entries – the recreated photo of Emilia Clarke as Linda Hamilton’s Sarah Connor from 1984 and “Come with me if you want to live” rank among the more obvious callbacks.
This desperate clinging to past is even noticeable in Genisys’ inclusion of a T-1000, the liquid metal killing machine first introduced in Terminator 2. Why is this T-1000 in 1984 waiting for Kyle Reese? According to the writers, they swear they know and will tell you if they ever make a sequel. Why is this T-1000 dressed as a cop aside from the fact that the T-1000 in T2 was also a cop? This is a film that put more effort in its callbacks than it does in trying to keep track of its own ridiculous timelines.
Jurassic World isn’t as absurdly blatant as Genisys in its attempts to reference the past, though it certainly places a lot of emphasis on referencing Spielberg’s original. The music, the appearance of Mr. DNA, the old Jeep, the goggles, and more all appear from the first film. As I noted in my review, and many others have noted as well, Jurassic World is very much trying to be the Aliens to Jurassic Park’s Alien. Only director Collin Trevorrow fails to realize just how different Aliens is from Alien. That’s why Aliens is great – it’s a different movie from the first that expands upon the story, not mimicking the past.
It’s also no mistake that Jurassic World and Terminator Genisys each seek to selectively attach themselves to the legacies of their respective franchise, excising the less popular entries. That’s nothing more than a ploy to have it both ways. Simultaneously, they aim to endlessly reference, and thus leech off, the popular films and ignore the unpopular ones. But what does either film do to make them stand at the same level of the films they’re so eager to reference? Not a damn thing.
It’s also no mistake that, at present, my favorite film of the year, Mad Max: Fury Road, is another entry in a series, yet, aside from one or two minor flourishes, completely dodges operating on nostalgia at any level. George Miller’s masterpiece of motorized mayhem is its own film through and through. Never does anyone mutter referential lines – hell, the dialogue is so sparse any reference would’ve stood out.
Today we celebrate our independence day! I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take this anymore! You’re gonna need a bigger boat. Say hello to my little friend! I’m a loner, Dottie, a rebel. And now that I’ve referenced a few popular films, you’ll automatically accept everything I’ve presented. That may not be true, but that’s increasingly becoming the attitude behind the biggest franchise being made today. $200 million will buy you a lot of fancy computer effects, but it can’t buy a script that isn’t obsessed with trying to recreate the past, albeit only selectively. It’s the kind of selective memory that a Lou Reed fan might employ to block out “The Original Wrapper” or Lulu. Just because you ignore them doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. Blockbusters will always be more commerce than art, but we should demand more from films with the budget equal to the GDP of a small European nation. It’s not too much to ask that these mega-budgeted films stand on their own. The simple fact is: references don’t equal personality. And these films are in dire need of damn personality. What we have here is a failure to communicate!
