Sequel-Reboots: The Eternal Houseguest

Spoiler: They never do.

Remember when we thought we could handle just one more visit from a beloved character? *Jurassic World* strolled in like a charming guest, promising a fresh take on dinosaurs. But lo and behold, here we are, with *Jurassic World: Dominion* trying to convince us that the same old T-Rex can still cause new thrills. It’s like inviting a friend over for a game night, and they keep bringing the same Monopoly set, but now with extra dinosaurs. Each time, you just hope they’ll finally run out of ideas and suggest a different board game.

— Sam

Someone pass the sage.

Oh, *Ghostbusters: Afterlife*, how you tried to breathe new life into an old favorite! It’s like when that friend crashes on your couch with a sleeping bag and a promise of pizza. At first, you’re excited about the nostalgia and the potential for fun. But by the end of the week, you’re just hiding your snacks and silently questioning your life choices. Why do we keep inviting them back?

— Jess

Enough already!

Here comes *Scream* again, masquerading as a fresh take on slasher films! It’s like that friend who shows up with the same stories from college—sure, they were funny then, but now they’re just sad. You chuckle politely while internally screaming for them to move on. Just like Ghostface returning, they think they’re still relevant. But honestly, how many times can we witness the same plot twist?

— Alex

Or is he secretly living in my basement?

When did *The Matrix Resurrections* become the ultimate example of sequel fatigue? It’s akin to that friend who insists on rehashing old inside jokes until they’re as stale as last year's bread. You want to remind them that some things are better left in the past. Yet here we are, subjected to another round of existential dread and leather coats. Can we not just let Neo rest in peace?

— Sam

Please, just go home!

*Halloween Kills* is like that friend who refuses to leave the party even when everyone else is done. They keep saying, 'Just one more drink!' while you’re staring at the clock, praying for a miracle. Michael Myers is back again, and it’s hard to pretend the scares still work after all this time. You've seen him stab, chase, and hide, but he’s still lurking around like a bad hangover. It's time for someone to take the chainsaw and call it a night.

— Jess

Just park it already!

Is *Fast & Furious 9* really necessary, or is it just a plea for attention? It’s like that friend who keeps overstaying their welcome, convinced they're the life of the party. They show up with flashy cars and outlandish stunts, but all you can think is, 'This was cool... in 2015.' Now it feels like a never-ending car chase with no finish line in sight. How many times can we rev the engines before the novelty wears off?

— Alex

Please, give us a break.

Don’t even get me started on *Transformers: Rise of the Beasts*! It’s like that friend who brings their dog to your place, and suddenly your space is all about fetch and slobber. Sure, the first few rounds were fun, but now it’s just a cacophony of metal clanging together. You want to enjoy the nostalgia but end up questioning your taste in friendships. Can we not transform into something new?

— Sam

No more photos!

*The Lion King* remake was meant to be a celebration, but it felt like that friend who keeps showing you their vacation photos from three years ago. You smile and nod, pretending to care, while internally screaming, 'I’ve seen this!' It’s the same story, just with a slightly updated filter. You realize some things are better left in their original state. Let’s save the nostalgia for the good times, shall we?

— Jess

Let it go!

*Ghostbusters: Afterlife* plays out like that friend who keeps telling the same story from college. Sure, it was hilarious back then, but now it’s just cringeworthy. You want to enjoy the homage, but it’s hard to feel anything when it feels so forced. The echoes of past laughs are drowned out by the weight of nostalgia. Can we not move on?

— Alex

Enough is enough!

*Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny* is like that friend who refuses to acknowledge that the world has moved on. They keep dragging you back into ancient history like it’s still relevant. Sure, we loved the original adventures, but now it feels like a bad history lesson with too many twists. You want to be excited, but instead, you’re just exhausted. Can we please retire the fedora?

— Sam

May the Force be with us.

What about *Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker*? It’s like that friend who can’t stop talking about their ex, even though everyone’s moved on. You cling to the memories of the originals while sitting through convoluted plot lines that make you cringe. It’s hard to muster enthusiasm when the magic feels so forced. The galaxy far, far away is starting to feel like a basement full of forgotten toys. When will they just let it rest?

— Jess

Please, just say goodbye!

And then there's *Terminator: Dark Fate*, the ultimate example of sequel fatigue. It’s like that friend who keeps crashing your party, convinced they’re the life of the bash. You once cheered for them, but now it's just awkward silences and forced laughter. The same old phrases and predictable plots wear thin. Can we not send them off to their own timeline?

— Alex

Let it die!

Finally, we have *The Exorcist: Believer*, which is just that friend who can't take a hint about leaving. They keep showing up with the same old schtick, but it’s lost its punch. You go in expecting chills, but all you get is a sense of dread about their next visit. Horror has its limits, and it seems we’ve reached them. Can we please lay this one to rest?

— Sam

Related Articles

Reheated Regrets: The Art of Failed Movie Reboots

Reimagining the Reel: A Dive into Cinematic Reboots