The Underappreciated Art of Standalone

Today’s popular culture seems to be thriving off of entertainment franchises. Much has been said about originality, but still so much more can be said! I, for one, am put off by the sheer quantity of material being retconned, reworked, rebooted, or given a spin-off, prequel, or sequel, or live-action adaptation.

Back in the day, Avatar: The Last Airbender was a brilliant and beloved 3-season show. It still is brilliant and beloved, but its story became extended with the creation of The Legend of Korra. While additional material isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I find myself skeptical of its necessity. This may be a controversial opinion, but I find the additional material unnecessary. More than that, I find it to detract from the original material. This doesn’t only go for The Legend of Korra, but also the Avatar comics that began shortly after Nickelodeon first aired the show. Learning about what happened to Aang and the gang after the events of the original show gave me more than I wanted. This is obviously subjective, but I believe there’s some general truth to this as well. There is a rule when it comes to writing and general performance, and it’s summed up in a quote most attributed to P. T. Barnum:

“Always leave them wanting more.”

Back in the day, Star Wars was a brilliant and beloved trilogy. Personally, I only found the original trilogy entertaining, but I can still recognize the difference in quality between episodes 4-6 (the originals between 1977-1983) and episodes 1-3 (the prequels between 1999-2005) and further episodes 7-9 (the sequels between 2015-2019). There’s also the cartoon Clone Wars show alongside a variety of other shows including The Mandalorian, Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Book of Boba Fett, Andor, and Ahsoka. There’s also also other Star Wars films including Rogue One and Solo. While I forgot to include a few others, I think it’s safe to say in this case that people may have had enough of this franchise. What’s sad—at least for me, I’m sure there are fans who will consume anything—there’s still more coming. This franchise has gone beyond detracting from the original material for me. It feels like I’m being given Thanksgiving dinner for every meal forever. It’s sickening. It’s “Always leave them wanting more,” not “Always give them more,” nor “Leave them wanting less.”

Back in the day, Doctor Who was… I don’t really even know. To be honest, I’ve not watched most of it save for a few episodes. But because it’s been continuing since its original release in 1963 to today, that tells me enough. I apologize if I’m hastily writing it off, but a story that spans around half a century is one I’m going to judge as not being told in the most effective and worthwhile manner. Another similar franchise is One Piece. If I’m going to piss off one fanbase, I might as well go ahead and piss off another. The manga began in 1997 and has continued on to today as well. The anime is currently at 1098 episodes and counting. In my humble opinion, one that has also deemed the sheer excess in material to be unworthwhile to pick up (which also means you should take this with a grain of salt), this is simply too long to tell a story. Additional stories I think overstayed their welcome are Warriors (another franchise I neglected to pick up but more so due to disinterest with cats than to do with it now spanning around 90 separate books) and Supernatural (one I actually have seen from start to end but still one I think is too long at 15 seasons).

There are plenty more examples to reference (Ghostbusters, Fantastic Beasts, Five Nights at Freddy’s), but I’ll leave off there and return to my thesis. I think there is a lack of respect and appreciation for self-contained stories. I struggle to really think of a story that remains untouched by corpocratic ambition and greed. That’s another factor to determine when it comes to additional material—where’s the line between expansive storytelling that is positive or coexisting with the original material and excessive storytelling that is negative or detracting from the original material? Or is anything that riffs off something original second-rate? Is nothing sacred?

Whew, that’s going a bit too far in my opinion. I think there are worthwhile additions to original works. Denis Villeneuve’s recent Dune film adaptations of Frank Herbert’s novels are solid. Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy are my favorite films and ones I like more than J. R. R. Tolkien’s novels; and the Wachowskis and Tom Tykwer’s film adaptation of David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas is one I similarly favor over the original novel. Outside of adaptations, I think Shrek 2 was an overall worthwhile sequel (I can’t say as much for the rest of the franchise). Mad Max: Fury Road is also a really good film. But, man, some additions just don’t work for me. Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit trilogy did not need to be a trilogy. And Shrek did not need to become whatever it is now. All this said, many of these stories aren’t standalone in themselves given the originals have more to them. If I struggle to think of a story that simply remains untouched by corpocratic ambition and greed, I seriously struggle to think of a story that is not only that but is also standalone.

There’s something truly special about limits. It gives the space beyond the limits a sense of meaning or purpose, and all that lies within the limits all the more importance. That which is given is savored, and that which is withheld and left up to the imagination is pondered on with fondness, wonder, and perhaps trepidation. In The Princess Bride, the novel concludes on the protagonists experiencing several misfortunes while fleeing from the castle and Prince Humperdinck and it’s up in the air whether they really escape and live happily ever after. In The Truman Show, the film concludes on Truman walking out of his false livelihood into the real world and it’s up in the air whether his life is better outside than it was inside. In The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, the game concludes with Ganon, King Daphnes, and all of Hyrule getting buried by the sea and both Link and Zelda setting off to found a new land. Even before any of these stories conclude, there are limits to where the story goes and what different environments and characters’ lives are like. I may want more… but I also don’t.

There comes a time when we have to let go. This is true in a sense for original stories as well; reboots, adaptations, sequels, and spinoffs may take over the original story’s place. We—or I—may not like it. But, like Andrew Garfield replaced Tobey Maguire and Tom Holland replaced him after that as Spiderman, stories are redone and reshaped into eternity. Still… I—or we—don’t necessarily have to let go of the original tale. We can savor the original or any of its versions or installments that we prefer again and again in its glory alongside or in spite of whatever came before or comes later. I personally choose to ignore everything outside of the original Avatar: The Last Airbender and Ghostbusters. In doing so, I choose to accept the story told within each and let them go. Standalone stories are unique, even if given addendum treatment later, as they offer the ripe opportunity to experience a special sense of singularity. It can be comparable to that feeling when you read the words “The end.” I’m grateful for standalones. At least, I’m grateful that there isn’t a Romeo and Juliet 2 or Hamlet: Reloaded. Shakespeare got it right.

Standalone stories are exceptional when it comes to telling the story that needs to be told. Such stories may indulge themselves in subplots, side quests, or flowery details, but they remain true to themselves, arguably more so than other types of stories. None of this is to dismiss long-form storytelling; all of this is to only really say that, amidst the trends of cinematic universes, multiverses, and live-action adaptations (which are trends for a reason), a story that is standalone is refreshing.