Twenty years on, to a Generation Marvel audience, that shock might be hard to understand.Ī vast amount of blockbusters these days are but chapters in a larger narrative their fans are less preoccupied with endings than with closing-credit teases and hints for whatever’s coming next.īy 2001, we were fully accustomed to ubiquitous sequels, of course, though they largely feigned completeness in themselves each time the promise of future extensions and rehashes was left tacit, a sort of silent gentleman’s agreement between studios and paying viewers. I assume they got the memo eventually.Įven for those of us forewarned of Peter Jackson’s bold three-film adaptation strategy, however, the limbo in which the first installment left us was disorienting and exhilarating, like being woken abruptly from a still-escalating dream. He and his partner skulked out of the cinema before anyone could reassure them more was on the way.
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