SauronsBANE's Top 3 Worst Hollywood Trends

If there's one thing I've learned from my overall experience here on CBM.com, it can probably be summed up by this: fanboys are a fickle bunch.

Now don't get me wrong, I definitely don't mean that to be derogatory or critical of our little community here at all. How about we just call it. . .an amusing observation, shall we?

Generally speaking, fanboys are simply just 'different' from most movie fans.

Many like to scoff at critics and their snobby little opinions. . .but then go on to use Rotten Tomatoes percentages to either defend or attack certain movies, whenever convenient. Some go so far as to actually pick sides and become fiercely loyal to one particular studio while harboring a hatred for another, whether it be Fox, Sony, Marvel, or WB/DC. . .rather than doing the logical thing and just rooting for whichever movies actually happen to be of high quality and deserving of praise.

But what's most amusing to me is that quite a few end up focusing on the most trivial details in a comic book adaptation, more concerned with if a superhero's outfit and looks are comic book-accurate. . .rather than paying attention to the larger picture of what actually makes a movie succeed or fail.

And yet, it's this same obsession with minor details that sets fanboys apart. That makes them unique. That actually makes it worthwhile to stick around these parts, pick their brains, and figure out how and why they think the way they do.

Because as much as you fanboys like to zero in on the tiniest, most miniscule details. . .the same can't exactly be said for Hollywood at large. Nope, they just couldn't care less about things like that, even if that might actually lead to better-made films. The movie-making industry continues to chug along like an assembly line machine, churning out movies that range from good to mediocre to forgettable to flat-out awful (with the occasional gem managing to sneak in and surprise us).

If a truly magnificent, awe-inspiring film manages to be greenlit by those clueless, high-brow executives, pieced together by truly passionate and knowledgeable writers, cast with fantastic actors and actresses, directed by a competent and motivated individual, funded, filmed, and go on to become a raging success at the box office. . .this once-in-a-blue-moon event is usually a result of succeeding in spite of the conventional Hollywood train of thought, not because of it.

Nope, the sad truth is that "attention to details" just might be a philosophy that's become a dying breed among studios and higher-up executives nowadays, including some of the studios in charge of producing the comic book movies that we get so crazy about. And that's exactly the reason why so many big-budget blockbusters have fallen victim to the same old lazy tropes, uninspired clichés, and annoying trends that end up lowering the quality of a movie significantly, over and over again.

So what are some of these terrible trends that keep holding back so many of our beloved comic book (and non-comic book) movies? Let's find out:

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3) Telling Incomplete Stories.

Recent Offenders: The Amazing Spider-Man franchise, Man of Steel

The first trend on our list is this odd preoccupation some studios have with telling incomplete stories. . .intentionally.

Now, don't misunderstand me. The title "Telling Incomplete Stories" does not refer to the plot or the literal story of a film (for example, I'm NOT saying that the plot of The Lord of the Rings is trash simply because they need more than one movie to complete their quest); it's about the main character's story, and the character arc that he or she may undergo. This seems to be a relatively new trend that's just starting to crop up, and it's absolutely terrible for a number of reasons.

Let's get specific.

2012's The Amazing Spider-Man was ostensibly a fresh, new, updated origin story for the web-slinging hero. . .even though it rehashes basically the same exact plot points already covered ten years earlier in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man. One of the newer additions, however, is the fact that Peter Parker doesn't become the traditional Spider-Man hero by the end of the movie.

Oh sure, he obviously gets bit by the spider, develops his powers, and tries to learn how to control and use them for good throughout the course of the story. He makes mistakes, he learns from those mistakes (well, clearly he's supposed to at least, but we never actually see that for ourselves), he performs his acts of heroism, and he defeats the bad guy at the end at great personal cost.

But the very last scene of the movie, that infamous "Broken promises are the best kind" scene, makes it painfully clear that this is still a naïve, irresponsible, mistake-prone, self-absorbed hero who is perfectly willing to go against a dying Captain Stacy's last wishes and ultimately refuse to stay away from Gwen for his own selfish reasons, even though it would've resulted in her own safety.

In other words, at the end of the movie, his character arc still isn't complete here.

He starts the movie off as a selfish, irresponsible, immature teenager with very brief glimpses of true heroism. . .and that agonizing last scene ensures that he pretty much ends the movie in the same exact place, the only difference being that he has spider-powers now (and no, him acquiring spider-powers is NOT evidence of any sort of character arc. That's simply something that happens to him. . .not something that he does).

This meant that the recent disaster of a sequel had to attempt to pick up most of the slack and stretch out Peter's character arc throughout two movies (hence why we were subjected to a Ghost-of-Captain-Stacy subplot that was completely shoehorned in, multiple scenes of Peter and Gwen breaking up and getting back together, and even more instances of a fallible, screw-up 'hero' who is otherwise inexplicably treated as if he can do no wrong).

At the rate the now-defunct series had been going, it's taken Marvel Studios' direct involvement for us to (hopefully) get a true, competent, responsible, self-aware Spider-Man/Peter Parker who is actually able to learn from his own mistakes. . .which is a character arc that should've/could've been explored and resolved in the very first film.

Even Man of Steel, as another brief (though controversial) example, falls prey to this twisted way of thinking as well.

The movie presents this story as a unique journey that Clark Kent has to take from being an outcast young man, growing up as an alien on Earth who can never fit in, to the beacon of hope, goodness, and justice that is befitting of the traditional Superman character.

Except. . .he doesn't exactly become that Superman by the end of the film, does he? There's a few glimpses of that here and there, I suppose, but it's safe to say he remains a dark, angsty, conflicted Clark Kent throughout the entire movie.

How do I know this?

Well, just take into account how the majority of fans defend this new, reckless, modernized Superman character by claiming that it was his "first day on the job", and he couldn't possibly be expected to know exactly how to control his powers, avoid getting punched into skyscrapers, directly protect and save thousands of innocent civilians from the World Engine, and figure out a non-lethal way to deal with the threat of Zod. I mean, "It wouldn't be 'realistic' otherwise" is the common justification for what we saw in the 3rd act of the film.

Okay, so that's all well and good. . .except for the fact that we're left with a terribly incomplete, half-finished shell of a character as a result.

The caveat, of course, is that fans keep insisting that we'll get the more recognizable, conventional, established, in-his-prime Superman. . .but only in the next movie, which is basically an admission that Clark's character arc is going to be stretched throughout multiple films, rather than giving Clark two well-rounded, fully-functional arcs in both movies.

So why is any of this a bad thing?

Well (setting aside the basics of storytelling and how telling a self-contained character journey is one of the most fundamental cornerstones of any story in history), it's a blatant marketing scheme, plain and simple.

Telling incomplete stories pretty much baits moviegoers into coming back for more and more sequels. Rather than blowing audiences away by pouring every feasibly great idea they had into one film, this disturbing trend results in filmmakers who are more comfortable with "saving" things for potential sequels. More often than not, that means it occurs to the detriment of this film, in the here-and-now, sacrificing the quality in the present in favor of more potential box office money in the future.

In other words, think of it like this.

Instead of letting the movie itself do the talking and get fans so completely amped up that they actually WANT to see the story continued in a sequel. . .we're stuck with NEEDING another sequel or two if we ever want to see the continuation of the character's story that was only begun by the first movie.

And even that is no guarantee that we'll ever end up feeling satisfied by the end result, as this process inevitably transforms into a trilogy of movies (or more) that keeps stringing us along, feeding us bits and pieces of a story and a character arc that could've been told coherently in the span of just one movie.

Even worse: it's basically a formal request by the studio to the fans, saying that we should simply trust them on blind faith to deliver on the loose plot threads that they unintentionally or intentionally leave hanging (think of The Amazing Spider-Man and the endless teases of the "Untold Story" of Peter's parents. . .which doesn't even come close to paying off until the sequel. Or look at Man of Steel, where the massive destruction and death from the 3rd act isn't even acknowledged. . .until it suddenly becomes a major plot point in the sequel).

To be brutally honest, the studio takes advantage of how willing fans are to simply believe that one day, years down the line, a potential sequel will resolve all these incomplete stories and someday make the whole wait worthwhile.

I don't know about you guys. . .but I would like to watch more comic book movies (and movies in general) where the hero becomes the hero by the end of that very same film, leaving the sequels completely free to delve into more interesting territory without being hampered by wasting valuable time with even more origin stories. I would like to watch more movies where the narrative is satisfyingly wrapped up and resolved by the time the credits roll, leaving me with the impression that there was an actual purpose and a point in spending those 2+ hours in the theater.

Call me crazy, but I would like to have those reasons be the driving force as for why I would be interested in seeing a sequel, rather than anything else.

I don't care how 'unrealistic' it'd be or whatever other rationalizations fans or filmmakers come up with. In my mind, those are just half-assed justifications and excuses for the studios to continue to be lazy with their storytelling. Give me a self-contained, complete story any day over franchises that repeatedly deliver unfinished, half-baked goods.

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2) Making Sequels BIGGER, LOUDER, and More EPIC.

Recent Offenders: Transformers, Pirates of the Caribbean, The Amazing Spider-Man, The Hobbit

Boy, all this talk about sequels segues perfectly to my next point: the apparent belief that the only way sequels can improve upon the first film is by going bigger, louder, and more epic than the original movie.

It's difficult to pinpoint exactly when this trend became, well, trendy, but it's absolutely clear that this way of thinking is precisely why there are so few trilogies universally considered to be great these days. And even beyond that, this mentality may also be responsible for the fact that most sequels never quite manage to top the original.

And yet. . .when taken at face value, this trend actually does seem like the most logical thing to do, right? 

When the first movie becomes a hit, it only makes sense that the next should try to surpass it in every way possible. One could say that The Dark Knight is one of those rare movies to have successfully accomplished that feat, as did Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Heck, you can even add X-Men: Days of Future Past to this list of recent movies that seem to abide by this very same mentality of going bigger, louder, and more epic than the previous film, to incredible success.

But is that actually the real reason why those movies are generally accepted to be so good, and so much better than their predecessors? Is going bigger, louder, and more epic the sole factor at play here? I'd say no. Let's take a look at the flip-side of this argument: those "recent offenders" that ONLY rely upon this tactic.

I know it's not a comic book movie, but the very first franchise that should've come to mind upon reading the title of this section is the ongoing Transformers quadrilogy that will soon become its own cinematic universe (*cringe*). I understand that these movies are financial hits and box office juggernauts. . .but those factors have never been accurate representations of a high-quality movie. With that in mind, allow me to come out and state the obvious: the Transformers movies are just plain bad.

Somehow, the first Transformers is probably the least worst of all the movies so far. It had a light-hearted, humorous tone that was befitting of a movie about toys. It didn't have world-ending stakes or global ramifications (or at the very least, it was smaller in scale when compared to the sequels). Instead, the story of the first movie could be boiled down to the bond between a boy and his first car (albeit, a robotic, shape-shifting, alien car). . .which is a very Spielbergian notion.

As the only movie in the franchise with Steven Spielberg's direct involvement (the rest of the movies include his name in the credits as an empty courtesy), it's also no coincidence that this is the most restrained that director Michael Bay has ever been with his beloved, over-indulgent franchise.

But then we get to Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, which is widely considered to be one of the most awful sequels in recent cinematic memory. The stakes are raised, more side characters are introduced, multiple subplots seem to appear out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly, the action is ramped up considerably, and multiple characters are placed in near-death circumstances over and over again.

Yet somehow, none of it ever adds up in any sort of meaningful way. It's as if Michael Bay decided to go bigger, louder, and more epic. . .and completely forgot about everything else that actually make movies, you know, good.

2011's Transformers: Dark of the Moon, with its complete overload of villains, subplots, action, and end-of-the-world threats, is arguably even worse.

Shockingly, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies followed almost exactly the same game-plan: a 1st movie that is smaller, focused, more character-driven, and popularly considered to be a joy to watch; a 2nd movie that ups the ante, introduces more characters, more subplots, more villains, and increases the scope and scale of the action in an effort to increase that much sought-after 'epic' factor; and a 3rd movie that is blown up to almost ridiculous levels of convoluted plot twists, numerous instances of unnecessary subplots, sprawling battles, and extremely high stakes.

I've already talked enough about The Amazing Spider-Man movies earlier (and also here), and don't even get me started on The Hobbit (shameless self-promotion once again), so let's move on.

So what gives? What is it about these franchises that make it seem like they were physically incapable of producing a well-crafted, cohesive, enjoyable sequel if their lives depended on it?

Honestly, I believe it all comes down to having the wrong mentality right from the get-go.

Of course, a proper sequel really should improve upon the 1st film. . .by raising the stakes. Unfortunately, I believe too many filmmakers get caught up in trying to raise the scale. See the difference?

On one hand, you can have an effective sequel that successfully manages to make things matter more. There's more at risk if the hero should fail. Indeed, by raising the stakes, the natural result is that drama, conflict, and tension all become heightened as well. Of course, that naturally leads to a more entertaining, emotionally resonant film that's easy to get invested in. This is basic filmmaking 101.

But on the other hand, by only raising the scale of things in a sequel, it just leads to a series of movies that steadily progress from something as superficial as city-wide threats, to nationwide threats, to planet-wide threats, and possibly even universal threats. This may seem like a legitimate way of doing things in film, but I can pretty much guarantee that there is no better way to ensure that a series of movies become as boring, repetitive, cliché, and unoriginal as possible.

Just look at the afore-mentioned examples of films that live and die by this mentality, at the expense of their own characters. This is how we get stuck with any of the last three Transformers movies. Or At World's End. Or The Battle of the Five Armies. Or even to a lesser extent, The Dark Knight Rises.

So I pose the question once again: What gives? Isn't it obvious that most beloved sequels don't actually come anywhere close to approaching the mindset of going bigger, louder, and more epic? So then why is it so hard to take inspiration from the movie sequels that actually manage to get it right?

For example, it's arguable that The Dark Knight improves on Batman Begins in almost every way possible. . .yet the scale of the threat isn't actually raised at all. In fact, one could argue that the scale of the threat actually becomes smaller and more focused this time around.

Instead of having the supervillain Ra's al Ghul threaten to wipe out the entire city of Gotham with a deadly fear toxin, a single murderous terrorist is simply leading Batman and the cops on an insanely clever cat-and-mouse chase throughout select parts of the city, sowing chaos and death everywhere he goes. But despite not having an immediate city-wide threat, isn't it fair to say that the stakes (Batman stepping dangerously close to becoming an unhinged vigilante, Dent devolving from a White Knight into a crazed Two-Face, Gotham's citizens toeing the line between morality and immorality, etc.) have never been higher?

Or take a look at Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which had the unenviable task of being a sort of sequel to both Captain America: The First Avenger and The Avengers. But somehow, directors Anthony and Joe Russo managed to restrain themselves from trying to top the unbeatable scale of World War II and an alien invasion in New York City. Instead, they turned their movie into a character study that delved into how a changing, modernized world would affect the morals and ethics of Steve Rogers.

In other words, they went in a completely different direction from the norm: they went smaller, quieter, and more focused.

Oh sure, a government-level HYDRA conspiracy, several brutal hand-to-hand fights, and a massive aerial battle over the Potomac River provide plenty of 'epic', wow-inducing moments. . .but that's not the only thing that The Winter Soldier provides. It's deeper and more meaningful than that, and it doesn't stop at these superficial, shallow details. With the focus on Bucky Barnes and the evil organization from Cap's past, it actually becomes more personal for Rogers. It dares to ask tough questions, it delves headlong into uncomfortable themes, and it's a complete game-changer in the Marvel Universe.

With so many readily-available examples of movie sequels that don't succumb to such aggravating tropes and trends, it's absolutely fair to ask when it'll finally click with the rest of Hollywood.

We don't need any more generic, played-out instances of films that do nothing more than increase the scale and epic nature of their sequels. We don't need sequels to turn into video games, where the threats and dangers steadily increase, ultimately leading up to obligatory boss fights. We don't need to be bombarded with explosions, deaths, and widespread destruction in order to be convinced that something real is at stake.

What we need are more movie sequels in the same vein as The Dark Knight, The Winter Soldier, X-Men: Days of Future Past, and Spider-Man 2. We need movie sequels to actually start getting their priorities straight. We need sequels that care more about their own characters and rise above this trend that keeps holding most sequels back from true greatness.

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1) Lack of Originality.

Recent Offenders: EVERYONE

This is probably one of the most obvious complaints on this list. Let's face it, Hollywood has a disease: they are officially beginning to run out of ideas.

Now bear in mind, this could be for any number of easily-explainable reasons. . .but I think the most pressing one is also the most disturbing: laziness. Simply put, it's just so much easier for writers to pitch a story that's only a slightly different take on a pre-established movie.

For one thing, rebooting a popular story or character (say Spider-Man or Batman, for example) has the benefit of catering to a built-in fanbase. Studio executives can bank on the fact that most people who watched and loved the old movies (and the ones who despised them as well. It's a win-win) will almost certainly turn out for the reboot in the hopes that it'll be even better.

Secondly, reboots have the advantage of being able to directly respond to the flaws, shortcomings, and complaints of the previous films. Whether recent results prove this as a viable strategy or not is beside the point: the bottom line is that reboots pose FAR less of a risk than an original idea. The very nature of reboots makes them the safe choice.

Prequels and sequels exist for primarily the same reasons as well. Of course, there are reboots (Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Batman Begins), prequels (X-Men: First Class), and sequels (take your pick from countless movies in recent memory) that are wildly successful and extremely enjoyable, and manage to put their own spin on things rather than rehashing what came before. But those certainly seem to be the exceptions, rather than the rule.

So why are these unoriginal ideas such a bad thing?

Well first of all, consder how newly-announced reboots are almost always met with derision and complaints that they are totally unnecessary, among many other things. Either it's way too soon to reboot a property (The Amazing Spider-Man), changes seem to be made simply for the sake of making changes (The Amazing Spider-Man), or the direction the reboot seems to be headed in turns out to be very troublesome (sensing a pattern here?).

Seriously though, is there any reason why we need to have so many classic children's stories reimagined into gritty, yet generic fantasy epics (think of Snow White and the Huntsman, Maleficent, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters, Jack the Giant Slayer, etc)? Or why we're suddenly getting an influx of sequels and prequels to originals that came out decades ago (the Star Wars prequels, The Hobbit trilogy, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and the upcoming Jurassic World, Independence Day 2, Zoolander 2, Finding Dory, the new Star Wars trilogy, etc)?

Do any of those things actually add and build on what came before, or are they just cash-grabs designed to take advantage of our nostalgia?

As if that weren't bad enough, we're now experiencing a whole slew of copycats that are attempting to cash in on the success of the MCU and the fledgling DCCU. Sony has plans for a Ghostbusters-themed universe, Universal wants to cash in on a shared universe based on classic movie monsters, and Paramount has their Transformers-verse. All of which will be comprised of reboots, spin-offs, sequels, prequels, and God knows what else.

WHEN WILL IT END.

Honestly, it probably never will. . .and that's not necessarily a bad thing, either.

I know, I just spent several paragraphs outlining why it IS a terrible idea, but the truth is there's actually nothing inherent about prequels, sequels, spin-offs, and reboots that automatically makes them bad. Likewise, there's nothing inherent about original, brand-new ideas that automatically means they'll succeed. Like anything else, it all comes down to execution.

But I will say that adding some original ideas and new spins on these types of projects will go a long way towards making them more palatable to worn-out audiences.

The new Planet of the Apes movies aren't simply going over the same old ground that the originals did. . .they are telling new stories with new characters while updating the themes so they can speak to modern-day audiences. The new Star Trek reboot started out this way. . .but then Into Darkness made the crucial mistake of reverting back to possibly the most famous Trek storyline ever - The Wrath of Khan (here's hoping that director Justin Lin can bring back the magic for the third movie). Meanwhile, it remains to be seen whether something like Jurassic World or Fantastic Four or WB/DC's new Batman will accomplish this same feat.

But I do know that if these studios and franchises can take some of the suggestions I've laid out here, from telling complete stories, to making better sequels, to adding a little spice of imagination, creativity, and originality, we just might be in for a wild next few years and decades of genuinely great cinema. . .especially when it comes to the plethora of comic book movies headed our way.

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Thanks for reading! Do you think I left out any other awful Hollywood trends, or do you completely disagree with the ones I've included here? Sound off below and let me hear all about it!