Sequels: Part Three

Return to Oz

Grease 2

Welcome wizards! The almighty sequel is one of the most polarizing and intriguing cinematic occurrences. Sequels offer a second chance at digesting and interpreting a story, and, in theory, they build upon the premises that we originally fell in love with—by way of a bigger budget, higher stakes, and fresh, new perspectives. There are unfortunate cases like Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again—where a fun prequel plot is overshadowed by the disturbing reality that SPOILER ALERT Meryl Streep (the main fucking character of Mamma Mia) is now dead and will only be singing through her younger self. Some audiences actually loved this film, hence the polarization I was speaking of, but I, personally, felt like it slapped me in the face with this unnecessary tragedy. But the biggest tragedy may be yet to come, because Meryl has teased that a third film in this franchise may soon be in the works. Some sequels outdo their originals, as with Shrek 2, Scream 2, The Dark Knight, Terminator 2, Dawn of the Dead, and, as I discovered with my double sequel feature last year, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and Evil Dead II, and with my double sequel feature year before last, Before Sunset and Bride of Frankenstein. The more sequels, prequels, requels, and retconned mistakes of retelling known stories I’ve seen, the more I realize just how random their quality can be. This is the case with all movies, but with original intellectual property, being viewed for the very first time, there is relief and opportunity in a blank slate. Sequels do not have the privilege of a blank slate, and instead have to live up to the impossible expectations set by their originals—that were clearly so beloved that a follow-up was required. This week, I held my breath as I explored another set of iconic and infamous sequels that boldly go where their predecessors did not, and I’m not sure what to really make of either of them, other than the fact that they admittedly did entertain me. Up first is a haunting follow-up to a haunting film that I have always considered a horror movie: The Wizard of Oz’ 1985 sequel Return to Oz. The original 1939 film is perhaps one of the most well-known and oft-referenced films in the history of cinema, and the horrific stories from the nightmarish set of this film have garnered a cult obsession of their very own. L. Frank Baum wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in 1900, and, after its massive success, went on to write several other novels that continue the story of Oz. Tonight’s first film, Return to Oz, is an adaptation of one of these follow-up books, and picks up the story of The Wizard of Oz six months from where it left off. We are introduced to a much younger, much more shell-shocked, but still hopeful and curious Dorothy Gale, played by Fairuza Balk in her first on-screen role. Dorothy’s old home was destroyed by the tornado six months ago, and her Uncle Henry is slow to build their new house. Meanwhile, Dorothy’s Aunt Em (Piper Laurie) is concerned about Dorothy’s lack of sleep, claiming that she just hasn’t been the same since the tornado—which makes sense. Dorothy and her family survived a violent climate event and are having to pick up the literal pieces of their life and start over in Kansas, which is daunting and terrible. All the while Dorothy is suffering from insomnia, and won’t stop speaking about this mythical, unseen place known as Oz. From a strictly rational, non-fantastical perspective, it makes perfect sense that Dorothy’s Aunt Em would then take her to a shrink, to figure out why she won’t sleep and why she won’t stop talking about Cowardly Lions and Tin Men. Dorothy and her Aunt Em make the long carriage ride to a more established city, where Dr. Worley promises that electroshock therapy is the best way to zap Dorothy out of her day-dreaming funk. Because of a sudden and extreme thunderstorm, Aunt Em has to leave Dorothy at the doctor’s overnight, and this poor little girl is forced to stay in the confines of this glorified looney bin where screams and sounds of electricity are heard from down the hall. As if this weren’t terrifying enough, Dorothy is able to escape when the power goes out, and her and a fellow little crazy girl make a run for it. But Dorothy and this girl are separated by a quickly-growing river, Dorothy passes out on the debris she floats on, and when she awakes, she is in the Deadly Desert of Oz. Dorothy is overjoyed to be back in this magical place, but something feels severely off. The munchkins are nowhere to be found, nor are her friends: the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion. The yellow brick road has been demolished into a jagged, dilapidated, and disjointed track of fading yellow rubble, and in the distance, the skyline of the Emerald City is destroyed and empty. As Dorothy and randomly, her sassy pet chicken, Billina, make their way closer to the Emerald City, they discover that all of the citizens have been turned to stone, and on the walls behind them, a graffitied message warns: “Beware the Wheelers.” These monstrous men with wheels for arms and legs are just the first of many strange, new adversaries that Dorothy has to tangle with, but she also makes some new friends who help her like Tik-Tok [ahead of his time] (a bulbous, bronze version of the Tin Man), Jack Pumpkinhead (a creepier, Halloween version of the Scarecrow who calls Dorothy “mom”?), and the Gump (which is an amalgamation of a monstrosity of several different animals) whom we meet as just a decapitated head on the wall of the evil Princess Mombi—another person in the desolate remains of the Emerald City who wants Dorothy dead. Perhaps it is because Fairuza Balk is playing a much younger version of Dorothy in Return to Oz, but I really feared for this kid, and felt genuine stress as she traversed each treacherous territory and each devious dominion. The entirety of this film felt like that one scene in Matilda, where Matilda is hiding from the Trunchbull in the Trunchbull’s house and is almost found several times—ie, panic-inducing. Return to Oz is a dark, bizarre, hallucinogenic, and at times, frightening take on the The Wizard of Oz that felt refreshingly self-aware. The original The Wizard of Oz genuinely scared me as a kid—between the violent tornado that swoops Dorothy up, to the terrifying Wicked Witch, to the intimidating Wizard, an army of intelligent, flying apes, and just the simple idea of not being able to get home—I found myself very afraid of this story that so many love and hold in a high regard. What felt oddly nice about Return to Oz, freaky as it was, was its (even accidental) awareness that this fable is a horror story, that not all fairytales end pleasantly or cleanly. That being said, because this was—shockingly—a film made for children, there is a happy ending to Return to Oz, but not before our dear Dorothy is put through emotional turmoil and physical danger. Interestingly, Return to Oz features the characters we know like Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion only briefly, and the costume and character design of these friends were strangely-warped and scary in this film. Return to Oz also maintains its air of creepiness with a consistently-eerie score and an impeccably-detailed set design that felt ripped directly from a child’s nightmare—which, as a horror fan, I absolutely adored. I can see why this movie is both loved and hated, both closely tied to the original film yet completely, unusually its own thing, and I was compelled throughout my watch. I’m not sure if I could say the same thing about the next sequel that I watched, Patricia Birch’s 1982 film Grease 2. After the gargantuan success of the 1978 film Grease with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, it makes sense that the famous producing duo Allan Carr and Robert Stigwood would want to make a sequel. But Grease’s two leads, along with several other cast members, did not want to come back, which presented several challenges for the director of this sequel. Patricia Birch was the choreographer for the stage version of Grease, and for the film itself, and for some reason, she was given the unfortunate task of following up the greased lightning in a bottle of Grease with a sequel that no one asked for. As strange as Return to Oz was, it makes sense that it would be made—given the other novels Baum wrote, and the separate prequel Wicked, written by Gregory Maguire. But Grease, as massively successful as it was, never required a follow up. When we witness Sandy and Danny inexplicably float up into the heavens at the end of Grease, free from the chains of high school hierarchies and drive-in dramas, I just doubt audiences then thought to themselves, “Now I wonder what the senior class of Rydell High will be like in a few years.” By 1982, the 50s craze of the 70s was over, the Grease hype had faded, and yet, Grease 2 opens with a laughably-large group number, in which the entire student body of Rydell High are singing about being back in school again. Just about every single number, in fact, includes the entire cast of 500 people, which made for a dizzying viewing experience. Out of the stuffy 50s and into the stuffy 60s, we are introduced to a fresh set of T-Birds and Pink Ladies—all of whom lack the gusto and memorability of the greasers who came before them. The leader of the Pink Ladies is Stephanie Zinone (Michelle Pfeiffer, in her first major role), a tough broad who puts a skirt on over her pants so she isn’t dress-coded, and is only slightly bothered when her bf, Johnny Nogerelli (Adrian Zmed, who played Danny Zuko in the Broadway version) makes out with her good friend and fellow Pink Lady, Paulette (Lorna Luft, Liza Minelli’s sister.) Stephanie catches the eye of newcomer Michael Carrington (Maxwell Caulfield), a transfer student from England, who is Sandy’s cousin (even though she’s Australian…) and decides that he has to have her. But Frenchy—who is, for some reason, back in school and is only barely in the movie but acts as a weak wing-woman to Michael—warns him that if he wants to date Stephanie, he’s gotta join the T-Birds. The principal, the school secretary, and the coach are all the same, and for some reason, the archetypal nerd Eugene is also still at Rydell High—even though him and Frenchy most definitely already graduated. Craterface and his gang are for some reason, also still hanging around Rydell, and this time him and his gang sing, too—one of the myriad of mistakes this movie makes. The whole school is simultaneously obsessed with and unaware of the new, hot transfer student, Michael, but Stephanie won’t give him the time of day. That is, until he crafts a motorcycle out of used parts, learns to ride it and do tricks, and sweeps Stephanie off her feet with his new, masked persona and night-riding intimidation. In minor ways, Grease 2 carries the torch that Grease 1 lit—with its delightful costume design and the grand tradition of damn-near-elderly-looking adults playing high schoolers. Only Michael, Stephanie, and a wannabe Pink Lady named Dolores (played by Pamela Adlon aka Bobby Hill) appear to be young, and the rest of these actors seem old and out of their depth(s.) There is a half-assed sub plot where a substitute teacher (played by Tab Hunter) has sexual tension with the other hot teacher at Rydell (played by Connie Stevens) but this is not explored nearly as much as it should’ve been. The entire film, the entire school year, is centered around Michael trying to prove himself to Stephanie, and the rest of Rydell High preparing for an end-of-year talent show that we see rehearsed about ten times. It was beginning to feel a bit like a rejected version of the script for High School Musical, which makes sense, because the original plans were for this to be the second installment in a franchise of four movies and a TV series that were never made—but Disney eventually ended up adapting the unused script for the third movie, which became High School Musical (2006.) Michelle Pfeiffer could not dance to save her life, though she could sing decently well, but poor, sweet Maxwell Caulfield simply could not do either. There is not a single musical number in this film that comes even close to the iconic and catchy track list in Grease, and the only song I do remember from Grease 2—a number about plants and reproduction—is memorable for all the wrong reasons. Grease 2 has garnered a cult following in the decades since it was released, flopped, and hated, so I was ready to appreciate this movie for its once-underdog status and seemingly-overwhelming sense of camp and absurdity. I’m just not sure if I actually appreciated any of it—while I was definitely laughing and at times, somewhat riveted—Grease 2 failed to even live up to my Good Trash standard of bad movies. There’s a song about bowling, a song about the loose women who work at the grocery store called “Prowlin’”, and a song wherein a T-Bird manipulates a Pink Lady into thinking that nuclear war has begun so they absolutely have to have sex, and these still were not my biggest grievances with this movie. What really annoyed me, what made this film feel like 3 hours instead of 2 (still, too long for a musical), was its disjointed script and the way the film was edited together. Grease 2 listlessly jerks you from one scene to the next, never connecting the storyline or characters or multiple B-plots together successfully. The script wasn’t even complete by the time filming began, and it really, really shows. There is no context given or previous mention of the fact that Stephanie works at a gas station, before we randomly see her working there, with 30 minutes left in the movie. There is no need for the prepubescent Dolores to thirst after the T-Birds and eventually end up with one of them. There is zero indication that there will be a school-sanctioned luau directly after the talent show ends, we simply go from one motorcycle chase to one on-stage musical number to another cringe locker conversation, and while this typically wouldn’t bother me in a silly, musical format, this is Grease we’re talking about. Grease just has that special sauce all over it that makes non-musical fans love it, the kind of rewatch-ability that dated high school stories rarely reach, the kind of soundtrack that you’re literally born knowing all of the words to. I wish I could say that Grease 2 was such a tremendously atrocious flop that it wore me down by the end of its chaotic, confusing journey, but it just made me feel like I was in a daze. Like I had fallen asleep and dreamed a half-ass, lower-energy version of Grease with a handful of familiar characters who seem just as confused as I was. There was no time for Stephanie and Michael to fall in love, because he was too busy building a false persona and she was too busy rolling her eyes through talent show rehearsals, so by the time the two of them are meant to be believably in love, absolutely no one is buying it. All of these disorganized elements made Grease 2 a slog of a watch, where I kept turning to my mom with a bewildered expression, and she asked me, with 40 minutes still left in the movie, “Is this hell?” And given the way Grease 2 subverted all of my expectations in the worst way possible, I do believe that, yes, this was hell. Danny and Sandy fly up to heaven at the end of Grease, and in Grease 2 we are stuck in a purgatory-like hellscape where songs are still sung in hallways, high school gangs are still threatened by their own rules of masculinity, but there is zero charm or musical movie magic to be found. By the end of Grease 2, the 1960s aesthetic is abandoned, the wigs somehow got worse, and the premise goes even more cuckoo than any kooky beauty school drop out could ever dream up. We close with a mid-tempo, semi-poignant song that makes about as much sense as the rest of the film, and I was left feeling like I was coming off a drug that I never consented to take. To quote the great Roger Ebert, Grease 2 had “a lack of class warfare, everyone got along” which is just one of the many off qualities to this film. Grease 2 ruined Maxwell Caulfield’s career, and left an odd taste in the mouth of Grease fans everywhere, with only Michelle Pfeiffer escaping the dumpster fire of this project successfully. Both of tonight’s films felt like dreams—fever dreams—that felt like severely fucked up versions of their originals, but in Return to Oz, that weirdly worked. And to my friends and idols who actually like Grease 2, like my baby Andrew Garfield, I have to ask, do you also like Grease? And if so, how could you sit calmly and endorse a film that so arduously tarnishes the good Grease name? In all seriousness, if you like Grease 2, that’s fine, that’s your own trauma that you can work out alongside Dorothy Gale, and her Oz-induced trauma. Thank you for reading along this week, my munchkins, and thank you for giving my Double Feature Thursday ramblings many, many sequels still to come. Ta ta for now!