Prequels, sequels and reboots: Big summer movies are usually part of something bigger now

Scarlett Johansson stars in “Jurassic World Rebirth,” which will be released on July 2.

School’s out for summer. Unless you’re going to the movies.

Instead of offering an escape, these days too many would-be warm-weather blockbusters are assigning serious homework. New chapters in never-ending narratives, stories that require a deep-dive knowledge not only of the original franchise but all its other spinoffs … these pictures demand that you study. Because there will be a quiz.

OK, perhaps you remember enough of “Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning, Part I” to bluff your way through “Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning.” But unless you have an amazing memory, other late-to-the-game sequels may leave you lost.

After all, the new “Freakier Friday” (see trailer below) arrives 22 years after the last film (itself a remake). “28 Years Later” is the second, and rather tardy, sequel in a series that began more than 23 years ago, with “21 Days Later.” Other, taking-their-own-sweet-time follow-ups include “Happy Gilmore 2” (see trailer below), arriving 30 years after the first comedy,and “Spinal Tap II: The End Continues,” hitting theaters a full 41 years after the first film.

Other, less straightforward summer offerings may require more research, or even taking some hastily jotted cheat sheets into screenings. “Jurassic World Rebirth” (see trailer below), the seventh film in the ongoing T-Rex-travaganza, isn’t so much a sequel as the promised start of a whole new trilogy (the series’ third). “From the World of John Wick: Ballerina” is the fifth installment in the action franchise, but actually takes place between the events of the third and fourth chapters.

Tom Cruise with Simon Pegg and Hayley Atwell in “Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning.”

Casual fans may feel woefully unprepared.

Admitted, it’s not too hard to recall the simple concept of the original “Freaky Friday” (mom and teen daughter switch bodies) or the giddily goofy characters of the classic “Spinal Tap.” But I have only a vague memory of what was going on in the last “Mission: Impossible” movie (and that film came out two short years ago). And although I do remember some of the last three “Jurassic” movies, now it seems I’d be better off forgetting, as those pesky dinos are now off the mainland and back on an island again.

This isn’t a complaint about honest, outright remakes (this summer brings several, including new attempts — yet again — to reboot “Superman,” “I Know What You Did Last Summer” and “Fantastic Four”). Nor is it even a more general complaint about sequels, once just a fond fallback for nervous Hollywood moguls but now a powerful corporate addiction. Instead, it’s a kvetch about Hollywood’s piecemeal productions, with movies arriving as incomplete and unsatisfying as those toys that warned “Some assembly required” and never included all the pieces advertised on TV.

Once, whenever Hollywood tried to turn the leftovers of a popular movie into a new hit, the new picture was still able to stand on its own. You didn’t need to have seen “First Blood” to enjoy “Rambo: First Blood Part II.” You could thrill to Bond, James Bond in “Die Another Day” without having watched “The World Is Not Enough.” Did Lucas and Spielberg care that the sequel “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” was actually a prequel to the first movie, and that none of the new characters it now introduced had shown up there (or would reappear in later films)?

No, they did not. And neither did we.

Now, though, moviegoers practically have to treat each new franchise installment as a research project. Wait, who is this guy, again? What does he want? And why does he hate this other guy? Unless you spend a week or two rewatching old movies and looking characters up on fan wikis, you can feel a little lost. (And maybe even then; the latest “Mission: Impossible” had to devote much of its first hour to setting up the story to come.) And afterward … well, if you want to know how the story really ends, you’d better see the next movie, too.

Christopher Reeve in 1978’s “Superman.”

And for this I blame comic books in general, and superhero movies in particular.

The first few modern capes-and-tights films were a treat, for fans. Nobody seemed to embody clean-cut, square-jawed heroics better than Christopher Reeve in those early “Superman” films. Tim Burton’s two “Batman” flicks brought the Dark Knight to life, and some of the initial Marvel “origin stories” — the first “Spider-Man,” “Iron Man” and “Thor” — were pure popcorn entertainments.

But the more popular those series became, the more their parent companies extended their media platform profiles — and then, laboriously, set about connecting all the separate parts. In one way, it could be impressive — a seed planted in one film suddenly bearing fruit four movies later. The work that must have gone into keeping all these narratives separate before bringing them together must have been exhausting.

But if it was hard work for the screenwriters, at least they were getting paid for it. What about the fans? (Good luck making sense of the last “Dr. Strange” movie if you hadn’t been watching “The Avengers” flicks, or TV’s “WandaVision.” ) And then, just when you had figured out all the ins-and-outs of a franchise’s continuing story, the studio would bring in yet another “alternate universe” where all bets were off — or, worse, a wipe-the-slate-clean reboot, which started the cycle all over again.

And seriously, how many times do we have to see Peter Parker get bitten by that spider, or Bruce Wayne get orphaned?

George Clooney, left, and Chris O’Donnell in 1997’s “Batman & Robin.”

I yearn for the not-so-old days when most new entertainments were self-contained. You didn’t need to have seen “Batman Forever” to enjoy “Batman & Robin” (not that anybody enjoyed “Batman & Robin,” but that’s another subject). And you didn’t need to keep track of tiny clues dropped along a franchise’s run like breadcrumbs (or infinity stones), knowing — hoping? — that eventually they would all somehow tie together. Back then, when a film ended, it ended. (It is even worse, of course, on today’s long-form TV dramas, where there is no guarantee there will even be a second season to tie up all the plot threads that unraveled in the first — and yes, I’m commiserating with you, fellow “Étoile” fans.)

Because, sadly, summer movies aren’t really about storytelling anymore. They’re about corporate branding and multi-platform marketing and endless cross-promotion. It’s not enough to buy a ticket to see the latest film. You need to rent the previous ones on demand, first. You need to have been watching the spin-off series on TV, and maybe played a few of the video games.

And then, when you’re finally prepared to see the new installment … well, don’t be surprised if it ends unresolved, with the implicit promise to tell you a little more of the story in a year or two.

Before, yes, it all gets rebooted.

Again.

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