You know what really frosts my flakes?
Movie sequels.
I just saw “The Devil Wears Prada 2.”
Why was that made? Because, apparently, Hollywood has not had an original idea created since 1987.
They just keep digging up old movies, slapping a “2” or “Reboot” on the title and hoping middle-aged people like me wander into theaters out of nostalgia and poor judgment.
Mission accomplished.
The original “Devil Wears Prada” was sharp, funny and memorable. The sequel felt like a corporate meeting with better lighting.
Nobody asked for this. Hollywood keeps taking classic movies and squeezing every last dollar out of them like an almost-empty tube of toothpaste.
And the worst part? They don’t even respect the originals anymore.
They take beloved characters, rewrite their personalities and jam modern nonsense into stories that were perfectly fine the first time around.
At this point, movie studios treat classic films the way fast-food restaurants treat chicken sandwiches. Just keep rewrapping the same thing, pretending it’s new and hoping nobody notices.
And don’t get me started on “Star Wars.”
That franchise used to feel magical, but now it feels like homework.
There are so many sequels, prequels, side stories, origin stories and spin-offs that you need a flow chart and emotional support animal just to find the plot and figure out the timeline.
Hollywood used to create legends. Now they recycle intellectual property like it’s cardboard.
You know what’s missing? Risk.
Nobody wants to gamble on a fresh story anymore. Studios would rather spend $300 million resurrecting a franchise from the dead than give one creative writer a shot at something original.
Somewhere there’s probably a brilliant young screenwriter with an incredible script. Too bad the studio executives are busy making “Fast & Furious 14: Grandpa Needs a Hip Replacement.”
And every sequel follows the same formula:
Bigger explosions.
More special effects.
Less soul.
Half these movies look like they were written by an AI robot trained entirely on Mountain Dew commercials and superhero trailers.
Meanwhile, ticket prices now cost roughly the same as a used Honda Civic.
By the time you buy popcorn and a drink, you need financing. And what do you get for your money? A two-hour reminder that Hollywood peaked decades ago.
At this rate, we’re probably six months away from: “It’s a Wonderful Life 2: George Bailey vs. the Homeowners Association.”
Don’t laugh. Some executive in Hollywood just wrote that down.
Leave the classics alone. Not every movie needs a sequel. Some stories actually knew when to end. That used to be called good writing.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy. And if Hollywood runs out of sequels, they’ll probably reboot me next.
