Would anyone think less of the Terminator franchise if Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) were its final film?
The Terminator (1984) and T2 function well as a duology. The franchise has only been able to proceed from Judgment Day by undermining it.
Since T2, every Terminator film except Terminator: Salvation (2009) has tried and failed to recapture the same magic. Rise of the Machines (2003), Genesys (2015), and Dark Fate (2019) are all in some sense Terminator 3; each has sought to provide a worthy follow-up to Judgment Day. Each has failed; and with each failure, the futility of the goal becomes more manifest. T2 is one of those rare films that fully accomplishes what it sets out to do. No film will ever beat Judgment Day at its own game. I respect Salvation, though it is no masterpiece, because it at least represents an attempt to move the series forward, to do something other than what had already been done.
Had the Terminator film series ended with Judgment Day, it could occupy a similar position as Back to the Future, a franchise that did not overstay its welcome, that had a conclusive and satisfying ending, that knew when to leave well enough alone. But, of course, the series did not end with T2. Perhaps the box office failure of Terminator: Dark Fate signifies the end of the series; indeed, I hope so. For with each new installment, the Terminator franchise further secures its status as what TV Tropes calls a “franchise zombie.”
I feel similarly about Star Wars. Between 2005 and 2012, I had no expectation that there would ever be another episode in the main Star Wars film series. For all intents and purposes, Star Wars was over in my mind. Sure, the Expanded Universe chugged along, and The Clone Wars was a breath of fresh air. But the story at the franchise’s center, the Star Wars Saga, was over; it had a definitive beginning, middle, and end. My naïve expectation that there would never be another Star Wars Saga episode did not diminish my love for the series; indeed, one of the things I admired most about the saga was that it had a conclusive ending, in Return of the Jedi (1983). Rather than fizzling out, Star Wars ended respectably—on its own terms, more or less. It feels odd to ascribe restraint to Star Wars, a merchandising powerhouse if ever there was one, but I appreciated that George Lucas only made six Star Wars films, when he easily could have financed many more.
Before the announcement in 2012 that Disney-Lucasfilm would produce further episodes of Star Wars, I would rewatch the Star Wars Saga in its six-film form at least once annually, and whenever I reached the end of the story, I felt gratitude for having experienced something remarkable. Of course, I would occasionally wonder what an Episode VII, what a Sequel Trilogy, would have been like, as I am sure most Star Wars fans did. But when the credits rolled on my most recent rewatching of Return of the Jedi, I would never think, “It’s a pity they never made any more of these.”
Nor will I ever think to myself, “It’s a pity they never made a seventh Terminator film,” should Dark Fate prove to be the franchise’s final entry.
I do not mean to be contentious here. I have little love for the post–Judgment Day Terminator films or the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, but I do not begrudge others their enjoyment of the same if they see something in those films that I do not. But I leave you with the following:
Nothing in our world lasts forever, even our favorite stories. You may outlive your favorite media franchise, or that franchise may outlive you, but both you and it will pass away eventually. Star Wars will end someday, as will every other franchise. That is unavoidable. However, to quote the Vision in Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), “a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.”
Because my favorite franchises will inevitably end someday, I would prefer that they end well.
