It’s quite likely that, in a few summers’ time, cinemagoing will start to resemble entering a giant narrative web, as each auditorium will be hosting a film featuring characters on their way to the plot being screened in the next theatre over. Disney, Marvel, DC—the brilliance of their crossover strategy seems only matched by the appetite of moviegoers for the results. The thought, then, of a standalone narrative, a one-off rather than a sequel springboard, is a rare phenomenon in today’s cinematic landscape, let alone the idea of linking films together only loosely, in such a way that they can’t be shorthanded by sticking a “2” or a “3” on the end of the original title.
But over the past ten years director Edgar Wright, for one, has successfully steered fans away from the pull of direct sequels. Instead, he favored a grand thematic statement by devising the Three Colors Cornetto Trilogy: “Shaun of the Dead,” which is currently celebrating its 10th birthday, “Hot Fuzz” (2007), and “The World’s End” (2013), three distinct statements co-written by Wright and Simon Pegg on conformity, aging, and friendship, which all simultaneously serve as quality, rip-roaring entries in three separate genres.
While Wright’s trilogy is perhaps the most high-profile, recent example of such an approach, many filmmakers, most of them outside the United States, have quietly built up similar meditations on a certain subject or theme, and delivered a trio of films that, while nothing like a franchise, still reward being thought of as a single entity as well as their disparate components. Here, to celebrate 10 years of ‘Shaun,’ we delve into 15 other examples of cinematic trilogies, (mostly) delivered by a single distinctive filmmaking voice. And while the first selection of “Road To…” movies are centered around the actors, one could very easily argue that without them, it simply wouldn’t have worked.
The “Road to…” Trilogy: “Road to Singapore” (1940)/“Road to Zanzibar” (1941)/”Road to Morocco” (1942)
Seven films from 1940 to 1962 made Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour household names back in the day, and rewarded Paramount with one of their most financially successful series. But it was the initial trilogy of films, “Road to Singapore,” “Road to Zanzibar,” and “Road to Morocco,” that set the stage for the long-running antics of Hope and Crosby—largely improvised, energetic, and rife with brilliant chemistry. Also featuring Lamour as the straight man and the duo’s object of affection, arguably the films never really kept a straight face long enough to construct the kind of thematic consistency we’re really talking about here, outside of your most basic con artistry. But consider these genre-swapping films a prototype for the balancing acts of action, comedy, and genuine drama in the Cornetto Trilogy later on, and simply enjoy the interplay of Hope and Crosby as they travel from country to country, hatching new financial schemes, falling for the local beauty, and fleeing town promptly afterwards.
“Road To Singapore,” the first film of the bunch and with its filmmakers uncertain of the creative direction, is definitely the weakest of the three, essentially an Apatow production of the ‘40s that let its two leads improvise the entire show. But it was a rumored outburst to camera from Lamour during its filming (“Hey fellas, I haven’t had a line for ages!”) that clarified for the crew the winking and entirely absurd approach held from that point forward. ‘Zanzibar’ and ‘Morocco’ both showcase a number of recurring jokes and fourth wall breaks that grew to define the series: the patty-cake routine signaling a brawl, or a camel lamenting his status in “the screwiest picture I’ve ever been in.” Hope and Crosby found their groove in “Zanzibar” and perfected it with “Morocco”, a film that in fact netted two Oscar nominations—one for Sound Recording and one for the screenplay by Frank Butler and Don Hartman. Essential, and without a doubt the most easygoing trilogy on this list, a point to keep in mind once Lars von Trier enters the arena in a fit of existential ennui.