Once Was Enough

Some things are better left untouched.

Like a childhood memory, or your favorite movie.

But Hollywood doesn’t believe in letting go. They remake, rebrand, reboot—until the magic is gone.

That’s how I ended up disappointed at the Superman premiere.

You take yourself out to watch the new Superman movie, hoping it’ll give you something exciting to write about for two consecutive weekends. But the movie ends up not living up to the hype, and somehow you feel you disappointed yourself and your blog. 

I truly believe some movies should be left as they are. I get it; Superman, Batman…whoever-man, is a franchise that’ll likely be rebooted again and again. Even in the future when Zuena, my daughter, is taken to the movies by some trying-too-hard-to-impress wannabe son-in-law, they’ll probably sit down to yet another version of Superman and think it’s the coolest one yet. But they didn’t see Man of Steel. I wish it had been left at just that—Man of Steel, with Henry Cavill’s perfectly chiseled jawline. That would have given proper value to the son-in-law’s money and popcorn. But I guess every producer wants to do their version of Superman, or Spiderman… blah blah blah.

Annoying. It ruins the magic of great movies. Some stories are legendary precisely because they happen just once. They’re a moment. It’s like trying to relive our best childhood memories. They wouldn’t be half as exciting if we tried to recreate them.

That’s why Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame still hold so much weight today. No one has dared remake them yet. And that’s why all the so-called sequels or follow-ups to the Avengers saga are major fails.

I recently saw they released Ironheart. And as much as I applaud the attempt to incorporate a black female lead, it doesn’t deliver the same thrill or emotional connection as Iron Man. As Tony Stark.

Critics like myself loved Tony because he had an original, compelling story: he was a genius, playboy, philanthropist, who sacrificed himself for the common wananchi of New York. Or, in America’s eyes, “the World”. From Iron Man 1, where he built his first suit “IN A CAVE…WITH A BUNCH OF SCRAPS!!”, to Endgame, where his tech was powerful enough to challenge a cosmic alien like Thanos—that was growth. Even Thanos was impressed and knew Tony by name the first time they met.

But now with Ironheart, you can't help but watch it while thinking of Tony. And if it doesn't live up to that legacy, critics like me will deem it a failure, even if it’s a good movie in its own world. Because it’s not his world.

Aaah… I was talking about Superman.

But really, I’m talking about all movies.

They even tried to remake Friends and we all saw how that went. People still rewatch the original Friends to this day because it’s perfect as a one-time thing. As much as the movie industry wants to stay "modern" and "relevant", some—not all—movies are better off left untouched. No sequel, no prequel. Just let it be.

Take Mufasa, for example. My date sighed at the end of the movie and said, and I quote, “Ningesoma tu storybook.” And I felt my heart shatter, for the producers. All that hype about Beyoncé and Aaron Pierre, and yet no one was talking about the movie two months later. It felt like they were struggling to make the story work. Trying, and failing, to live up to The Lion King's original legacy.

Wow. Saying “they” like this makes me feel like some activist fighting a corrupt regime. Like a conspiracy theorist yelling that aliens are real.

But you get what I mean.

There’s a thrill in watching something once. Isn’t that why they call it a once-in-a-lifetime moment?

I hear they’re already working on a Peaky Blinders movie. But I can bet you (and you can mark this post) that it won’t be as great as the original series. Cillian Murphy will be older now. Aunt Polly won’t be there. It just won’t feel the same. We already know Tommy’s struggles and triumphs. And let’s be honest; no one casted can play a more chilling Devil than Oswald Mosley already did.

My heart gets heavy just thinking about how that movie might turn out.

This whole Superman experience reminded me of football jerseys. Jerseys are now being designed in retro style, or as “modern” versions of retro kits. A few look amazing, but most are forgettable. It’s like Adidas and other brands have run out of fresh ideas. That’s why you’ll still see Arsenal fans proudly wearing the OG O2 shirt from the ‘04 season. I bet if Nike were to reproduce that kit today, it wouldn’t be fully embraced. It just wouldn’t feel the same.

So yes, my blog and I were disappointed in the new Superman movie. After a long work week, you expect the cinema to help you unwind—to laugh, get startled by abrupt cut scenes, or feel wrapped up in the story. Instead, you're bombarded by excessive CGI, endless fight scenes and forced dry humour. You don’t connect with the film. It doesn’t hold you from the big screen.

But before I sound like a total grump, let me admit—some remakes do get it right. Take for example The Karate Kid, with Will Smith’s son and the legend Jackie Chan. A reboot of the 1984 classic. And it was absolutely legendary in its own right.

Even better, look at my favorite series, Hawaii Five-O. That was a remake done right. They showed more of the beautiful Hawaiian landscape, dived deeper into the personal lives of the characters, crafted a tighter, more engaging storyline, and gave us visually stunning sequences. That’s how you remake a classic: you enhance the original, not just repeat it.

In music, I’ve seen artists get this right too. My current favorite artist, Johnny Junior wuod Nyasega, has reproduced several of his early songs as his craft evolved. Before he was famous, he released tracks like Nyayimbo and the now-popular Nyasakwa. He later reproduced Nyayimbo in his latest album last year—and it’s a banger! He did the same with Nyasakwa, upgrading it with richer instrumentals, better vocals, and a more refined rhumba vibe. And he has mastered this simple craft of reproducing songs—not all, but most. He even gave Adongo Nyanango, a song many people love today, the same thoughtful treatment.

Same goes for the maestro Musa Juma. Many of his songs we dance to today are remakes of his earlier productions, dating as far back as the 1980s when he was still flirting with Sabi in Muhoroni. It’s only his final album, Lake Victoria, that’s made up of completely new songs. Because he understood when—and how—to reinvent his craft.

Movie producers haven’t figured that out yet. I think (almost certainly know) they’re mostly in it for the money. Just churn out a new movie to keep audiences busy… and buying more popcorn.

I sound like a conspiracist again, don’t I?

✍🏽Reagan.