Awesomizer #9: The Phantom Highlander II . . . Reloaded

[Dennis Cass]

A member writes:

"What I'd like you to do is awesomize our childhood memories that get ransacked by sequels. How do we ever recapture the wonderment killed by midi-chlorians and planet Zeist?"

Regrettably, the Awesomzier cannot directly awesomize your mind. I cannot undo organic damage. Your fond memories of the original Star Wars trilogy and the cult 80s film Highlander have been wrecked beyond repair. This is as sad as it is true.

You raise, however, an interesting question about the creative problem posed by sequels, and I think the answer will help you even if you're not in the business of having to follow up on sudden, life-changing success.

The conventional wisdom says that if people like XYZ, then what they want is more of XYZ (but with a twist). In fact, what people really want is the logical continuation of XYZ.

That's why for my money the best sequel in the history of sequels is Pixar's Toy Story 2. The first movie is about toys who learn/rediscover that their purpose in life is to unconditionally love (and serve) their child owners. Buzz Lightyear starts out a self-deluded action figure who has to learn that he is in fact a toy. Woody (threatened by the appearance of Buzz) allows his tiny toy ego to get in the way of his prime directive, and has to relearn his reason to exist. Fortunately for all, there is a handy quest to help make life clear. (If only we could be the hero in our own lives in such a clean, tidy manner.)

Toy Story 2 avoids the sequel trap by taking the central theme of the first movie and deepening it. In the second film, the characters learn that if you're a toy, your purpose in life is to love/serve their child owner even though the owner at some point will grow up, stop loving you back, throw you in the garbage and forget you. This is a ballsy stance to take for any movie, but especially a kid's movie. The second movie says, You find your role in life, not as a way of getting what you want, but in spite of the fact that the thing you want most will either be denied or will end too soon. It's a harsh message, but also a strangely affirming one.

What would happen if Highlander II: The Quickening showed similar thoughtfulness, courage and resolve?

The original Highlander is a cult classic, and perhaps the best decapitation-based adventure story every told. It concerns the life Connor MacCleod, a member of a race of immortals who vie for the ultimate prize by fighting each other across time. Key features of the original include:

1. Nice visual transitions from present-day New York to deep historical flashbacks as Connor learns he is immortal, undergoes his apprenticeship and meets his arch nemesis, the Kurgan.

2. Sword fights. And trench coats worn with sneakers.

3. Sean Connery faking his way through scenes in a way that make you wish everyone would fake their way through every scene in every movie ever made.

4. A nice twist at the end. The ultimate prize for an immortal is mortality.

Highlander II: The Quickening has all the elements of the first movie, with one crucial element: a sense of purpose. Of course, it's tempting to bring back the flashbacks, the decapitating, and Sean Connery as a foppish Spaniard. But there is no point. MacCleod has already achieved the ultimate prize. Lucky him: he gets to die. If Highlander II wants to be awesome, it has to deal with the consequences of the last film's ending.

Here are two possibilities:

1. Change genres. Take the franchise from sci-fi/fantasy to supernatural drama. MacCleod is mortal now, but he's hardly normal. He has to live with the consequences of hundreds of years cutting off heads. He is a haunted man, perhaps literally. As he deals with his sudden mortality, he also has to make piece with the death and destruction caused by his past. He has killed dozens of people. Now he must put them to rest . . . Highlander style.

2. Change genres (a lot). MacCleod has no one left to kill, but that doesn't mean he's lost the taste for adventure. He can't very well use his katana to conquer New York, but he can use hundreds of years of observing human weakness, vanity and greed. MacCleod becomes a kind of (formerly supernatural) Gordon Gecko, storming the boardrooms of 80s New York and crushing his enemies underfoot. Story becomes about how gaining the ultimate prize does not stop a human being's desire for power and dominance. (Highlander style.)

As for how this relates to you and your non-sequel generating world, I have this to offer:

Sequels are hard because success creates commercial expectations that decrease the creator's tolerance for risk. But even if you're toiling alone in obscurity, you're still constantly wrestling with your tolerance for risk. You might say to yourself things like:

I'd never tell that story because it's a silly story and I don't want to risk looking silly.

I'm not going to write that Western because nobody reads Westerns and I want my book to sell.

I'm not going to take on that subject matter because it's a hot-button topic and I'm not a "controversial" artist.

I can't take the story in that direction because it scares me what I might learn about myself.

And so, my friends, my challenge to you is once again to work on identifying what is risky for you and why. Whether or not you take those risks is the subject for another post, but I strongly believe that you need to know where the risks are before you can start being awesome.

[marta]

Awesome words. I keep the rest of my life in even keel so that I can take the risks in my novels. And I've not written sequels (to my unpublished/unsuccessful novels) as much as I've expanded the world. Same place, new people, different times... still stuck on how the blogs fit in, but working on it.

I shall be looking silly.

[Nancy D'Inzillo]

Along this topic, I'd like to say, there's a point at which certain authors just need to learn to end a series. I know one of my used-to-be-favorite authors lost me as a reader when she kept writing within the same world. Past a point, I just stopped caring. And I can stick with a series for a long time. I think the same rule applies to continuing a series as with sequels; if it doesn't deepen the world being created, then stop writing! If it's the same story with different characters, the readers will know and stop caring.

[Dennis Cass]

@Nancy. You make an excellent point about the need to end a series that is overstaying its welcome. I'd also be curious to hear people's opinions about series in general. Publishers love them, but I wonder how many writers are trying to make stand-alone works into series in order to have a better of chance of success in the marketplace.

[pseudosu]

Laurie R King does both. She actually keeps two very different series of detective novels going, one set in modern day San Francisco and one in Sherlock Holmes era England, and also has some really great stand alones.
I really like John Sandford's "Prey" series, but in an interview earlier this year he said his publisher just rejected a novel of his in the last couple years because it went too far off course of his image. He's got a couple series out and a stand alone too, but this apparently was another genre or something and they killed it.

[Rustin Wolfe]

great take, Dennis. (although we cannot discuss the original highlander without recognizing the soundtrack by queen.) i think the key for a series is a world/characters that demand extended exploration. highlander clearly ended, so for a sequel to work, they needed to manufacture a new need. clearly, they should have consulted with you first.

[Rustin Wolfe]

other great sequels that come to mind: godfather part II, star wars: empire strikes back, star trek: wrath of kahn. and while i haven't seen it yet, everyone's raving about the new batman: dark knight film.

[Dennis Cass]

Thanks, Rustin. And yes, all of those are great sequels because they had that "new need" that is so important.

Dark Knight is amazing.

[Rustin Wolfe]

oh, and superman II... "kneel before zod!"