‘Are you not entertained?’: Why Hollywood can’t let go of the movie remake

“I don’t know why they remade this movie,” my mom said, shaking her head in dissatisfaction. “The first one was so much better.”

We had just finished the “I Know What You Did Last Summer” legacy sequel on Netflix. While my mom still thinks fondly of the 1997 original, she found herself completely bored by the 2025 iteration.

Hollywood studios just can’t seem to leave the reboot alone — and it’s not just my mom who has noticed. 

From “Gladiator II” last November to the live-action “How to Train Your Dragon” this past year, it feels like studios have run out of original ideas, or are simply unwilling to try them. Rather than expanding on fresh plotlines, sequel films boast major star power in hopes of compensating for their lack of new material. And for the most part, it works. Both “Gladiator II” and the live-action “How to Train Your Dragon” were box-office successes.  

Audiences have resorted to buying tickets for legacy and casting rather than investing in the story itself. We are not curious — and Hollywood knows it. Even though sequel films make money, they rarely earn the same level of critical recognition for their performances or storytelling. (“The Godfather: Part II” remains a rare exception.) One Slate article even bluntly described last year’s “Gladiator II” as “a dismal retread.”   

But, studios do not care what Slate thinks. Instead, they focus on how consumers spend their money. And so the cycle continues — when the nostalgia factor meets A-list casting, studios can skip investing in emotional depth or artistic risk while still turning a profit. 

Part of this trend feels like a recession symptom. Many of us are riddled with economic anxiety and frankly feel unable to gamble on a film we know nothing about, because let’s be honest, there is no worse feeling than paying for a movie that does not satisfy us, and name recognition eliminates that fear. While it is smart business, this tactic bars us from the true theater experience. That excitement and wonder before the lights begin to dim has been replaced by the comfort of predictability, and the audience has been the ones to suffer.  

This trend does not go without an explanation. ​​Film inevitably reflects the political and emotional climate of its time. So who wouldn’t want to use recognizable plotlines and actors to escape back to the early 2000s, when political divides felt smaller and jobs were less scarce? We cling to stories that won’t challenge or fracture our worldview any further.  

Let’s go back to “Gladiator II.” The original is a five-time Oscar winner and is considered one of the most iconic films of the early 2000s. Fans and the Academy were captivated by Maximus (Russell Crowe), as he was betrayed by a jealous emperor (Joaquin Phoenix) and forced to fight for his life in the arena. Over two decades later, Paramount tried to recapture that magic again with stars like Denzel Washington, Paul Mescal, and Pedro Pascal — but the attempt only highlighted the irony. Maximus’s iconic cry to the crowd, “Are you not entertained?” hits differently now.  

I, for one, am not entertained, Hollywood. I’d like something new.

There are a certain number of us who notice the pattern — those who cling to the political commentary riddled within films which have been disguised as purely entertainment. We savor that feeling of rebirth as the credits roll and we step back into reality, and recognize that films are more than just entertainment; they are also a form of recognition and education.  

Whether you are an avid moviegoer or not, you should feel at least a little duped — because we all are. But it is also important to remember that it is not entirely on Hollywood. After the pandemic shutdowns, theaters have struggled to stay open and are relying on the one thing that always pulls us back in: nostalgia.  

Studios will continue to underestimate their audiences — their release slates suggest that. They assume familiarity matters more to us than artistry, and it is not a coincidence that many of the films ignored at the box office end up celebrated during awards season.  

I am not asking us to become the Academy. But, I am asking us to step forward creatively. If we want to be a generation that future thinkers and filmmakers can look to for inspiration, then we need to champion the kinds of originality and risk-taking that made cinema exciting in the first place.