Urban retweeted
Edie really hung herself with a silk scarf just so Carlos would walk in and âsaveâ her⊠then almost actually died because Mrs. McCluskey wouldnât stop talking about the trash cans. Desperate Housewives was genuinely unwell.
Urban retweeted
She suddenly wakes up in her husbandâs body... and his coworker just walks in while you standing there half dressed.
Urban retweeted
Spencer just saved him from the worst. Now heâs fighting to stop him from finishing what the attacker started. đŹ 1923
Urban retweeted
Chaos Crew đ„
Quinn Fabray knew she was that girl. I am just streaming all seasons of #Glee again before the reboot starts.
Urban retweeted
Quinn Fabray knew she was that girl. I am just streaming all seasons of #Glee again before the reboot starts.
Urban retweeted
Someone called this dog a pervert, and Iâm sorry, but WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY? đđ Because tell me why he actually looks like he knows something he shouldnât.
But also, the word pervert is taking me OUT because itâs such a deeply unserious insult that somehow still carries the weight of a criminal accusation. đ Like, you can call someone weird, creepy, nasty, or freaky, but PER VERT? That word has HISTORY. That word has DISDAIN. That word sounds like somebodyâs grandmother is about to clutch her pearls and demand that you leave her house immediately.
And the funniest part is that we still use it like itâs one of the worst things a human being could possibly be called. It hasnât lost its power. It hasnât been softened by time. It still sounds absolutely DAMNING.
Meanwhile, this poor dog is just lying on the floor, minding his business, looking like heâs got 47 browser tabs open that he should be ashamed of. đđ
Urban retweeted
âNo Scrubsâ in the Green Lantern Corps hits different. #Lantern
Algunas conexiones llegan a lugares en tu alma que las palabras nunca podrĂan explicar completamente. En el camino (2025) es una de esas raras pelĂculas que silenciosamente encuentra su camino en tu corazĂłn y permanece allĂ mucho despuĂ©s de que los crĂ©ditos pasen.
Hay algo tan hermoso en la forma en que esta historia mezcla la melancolĂa con la ternura, la soledad con el anhelo y el desamor con el tipo de amor que te hace sentir vivo. Te recuerda que algunas personas entran en nuestras vidas inesperadamente y dejan atrĂĄs algo que nos cambia para siempre. A veces, el amor no necesita grandes gestos o palabras perfectas. A veces, se encuentra en los momentos mĂĄs pequeños, las miradas mĂĄs silenciosas y el simple consuelo de ser visto y comprendido por otra persona.
Lo que lo hace tan profundamente conmovedor es la forma en que te permite sentir todo sin obligarte a explicarlo. Hay tristeza en su belleza, pero también hay calidez, esperanza y un profundo sentido de humanidad. Captura esa sensación agridulce de encontrar algo precioso en medio de las incertidumbres de la vida, sabiendo que incluso las conexiones mås hermosas pueden dejarte con un corazón lleno de emociones que tal vez nunca pongas completamente en palabras.
Algunas escenas no simplemente pasan ante tus ojos; se asientan en algĂșn lugar profundo dentro de ti. Se convierten en recuerdos de una historia que no es tuya, pero de alguna manera se siente Ăntimamente familiar. E incluso cuando la pelĂcula termina, una parte de ti permanece allĂ, aferrĂĄndose a esos momentos, esos sentimientos y ese dolor silencioso.
En el camino es mĂĄs que una historia de amor. Es un recordatorio de que algunas conexiones trascienden la explicaciĂłn, que la ternura puede existir junto con el desamor, y que incluso un encuentro fugaz puede dejar una marca eterna en tu alma.
Una pelĂcula hermosa, melancĂłlica y profundamente humana que te recuerda por quĂ© seguimos buscando el amor, incluso cuando sabemos cuĂĄnto puede doler.
Urban retweeted
This movie was an absolute delight! Such a sweet, heartfelt rom-com that tugged at my heartstrings in all the right places.
The protagonist is someone so many of us, especially those of us who grew up as the chubbier kids, can relate to. The insecurities, the struggles with self-esteem, the feeling of being overlooked, undesirable, and destined to be alone. And navigating all of that in a world that already places so much pressure on appearance, only to find that the gay world can sometimes be just as unforgiving? Oof. That particular loneliness hits differently.
And then, just when youâve almost resigned yourself to the idea that love might not be in the cards for you, the universe pulls an UNO reverse card and suddenly, everything changes. đ
Itâs sweet, itâs tender, and itâs a lovely reminder that the people who feel the least desirable can still be someoneâs great love story.
I wish life handed out these kinds of happy endings a little more often. Because everyone deserves to be seen, wanted, cherished, and loved exactly as they are. đ
Urban retweeted
Ray really carried Scary Movie
This scene is still UNHINGED after all these years.
Comedy was different back then... and that's why it was iconic.
Urban retweeted
98% of horror franchises. Examples are Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th. I also think Silence of the Lambs works better as a standalone film.
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.
98% of horror franchises. Examples are Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th. I also think Silence of the Lambs works better as a standalone film.
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.
Urban retweeted
300
The Matrix
Jaws
Gladiator
Almost all sequels of Disney Princesses
Ghost Rider
And I'm dubious about Pirates of the Caribbean
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.
Urban retweeted
Avatar. The first one wasnât that great; it certainly didnât need to be a whole-ass franchise: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Ramen, who cares?
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.
Urban retweeted
Unpopular opinion: phrase "unpopular opinion" is grossly misused on a regular basis.
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.
Urban retweeted
Jaws is a franchise that didnât need to exist each sequel falls further from what the first movie was.
UNPOPULAR OPINION: SOME MOVIE FRANCHISES SHOULD HAVE ENDED AFTER THE FIRST FILM. And Hollywood needs to learn when to leave a good thing alone.
Not every successful movie needs a sequel. Not every compelling story needs a trilogy. And certainly not every beloved franchise needs prequels, spin-offs, reboots, legacy sequels, and an entire cinematic universe built around it.
Sometimes, a movie is lightning in a bottle. The story is complete, the characters have served their purpose, the ending leaves you with something to think about, and the final scene lingers in your mind long after the credits roll.
THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH.
But Hollywood sees a successful film and immediately starts asking how many more times it can squeeze money out of the same idea. Suddenly, a perfectly satisfying ending becomes a setup for another installment. Mysteries that were better left unexplained get unnecessarily answered. Character arcs that were beautifully completed get dragged back to square one. And stories that once felt revolutionary slowly lose their magic through repetition, diminishing returns, and increasingly desperate attempts to outdo the original.
And the most frustrating part? Sometimes the first movie was so good precisely BECAUSE it didnât need anything else.
Take THE MATRIX, for example. The original film was a groundbreaking piece of science fiction that challenged our understanding of reality, free will, identity, and the systems that control us. It gave us an iconic visual language, unforgettable action sequences, and an ending that opened up a world of possibilities. Neoâs awakening was the entire point. The mystery, the philosophy, the atmosphere, the sheer audacity of the concept â it was lightning in a bottle.
Did we really need to keep going? For me, the original could have stood on its own as a near-perfect cinematic experience. Not every unanswered question needs an answer, and not every fascinating world needs to be endlessly explored.
Then thereâs THE TERMINATOR. The first film was a tightly constructed sci-fi thriller with a terrifying premise, a relentless sense of dread, and a story that knew exactly what it wanted to be. TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY is one of those rare sequels that genuinely justifies its existence, arguably becoming a classic in its own right. But after that? The franchise increasingly struggled to recapture what made those first two films so special.
At some point, you have to wonder whether Hollywood is continuing a story because thereâs genuinely more worth saying or simply because the title still sells tickets.
And this is where I think the industry gets it wrong: A FRANCHISE IS NOT AUTOMATICALLY BETTER BECAUSE ITâS BIGGER. More lore doesnât necessarily mean more depth. More installments donât automatically mean better storytelling. And bringing a familiar character back for the fifth, sixth, or seventh time doesnât guarantee that audiences will feel the same magic they felt the first time around.
Sometimes, the most respectful thing a filmmaker can do for a great story is let it end.
Give us original ideas. Give us new worlds. Give us characters whose stories have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Let a masterpiece remain a masterpiece without forcing it to become a content pipeline.
Because Iâd rather have ONE extraordinary film that leaves me wanting more than a franchise that keeps giving me more until I no longer want any of it.
So, letâs hear it: WHICH MOVIE FRANCHISE SHOULD HOLLYWOOD HAVE LEFT ALONE AFTER THE FIRST FILM?
For me, itâs THE MATRIX â and while I absolutely respect what TERMINATOR 2: JUDGMENT DAY achieved, I think the franchise should have been far more selective about what came after it.
Whatâs your pick? And donât just name the franchise. Tell me which sequel, prequel, or unnecessary continuation made you wish Hollywood had simply left well enough alone.













