by John Patterson.
Contra Aimee Mann and Harry Nilsson, three, not one, is the lousiest number that you’ll ever do. At the multiplexes, as we start the doomsday countdown to Christmas, our screens are chocker with trilogies, parts of trilogies or culminations of trilogies: a redefinition of the term “triple-threat”. No sooner have Divergent and The Maze Runner’s first instalments decamped from cinemas than we are immediately favoured with The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1, and yet another Peter Jackson Hobbit movie.
Mockingjay should have been the culminating panel of a trilogy but – as happens more and more often now – its backers sniffed the money to be had from stretching things out just a little longer, taking a leaf from the Harry Potter franchise, which likewise split its last instalment just to shake every last penny from the piggy banks of that demographic I once heard collectively referred to as the “Harry Potter generation”, a phrase that made me die inside just a little.
Read the rest of this article from The Guardian.
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