Not Coming to a Theater Near You

Those familiar with buttered popcorn are no doubt familiar with another customary accessory to film: the sequel.

Sequels are often fertile ground for the most relentless critics to sow their most scathing adjectives. The worst sequels abandon any tie to feasibility and are essentially a marketing ploy: a completely vacuous attempt to make another dollar. This claim is evidenced by the mere existence of a sequel to The NeverEnding Story. The film contradicts the sole determinant of a story that never ends. (Laughably, there exists a third film in the NeverEnding Story series.)

The primary contingent for the sequel is that is must carry the same theme, plot and characters as its predecessor. There are few sequels that are distinguished from the series they stem from. Back to the Future Part II is one.

In its theatrical run Part II was appended with a trailer for Part III. This fact, coupled with the film’s cliffhanger ending may reduce the film to one without substance — a cheap marketing gag, a two hour setup for Part III. Though this critique is justified, the film in theme takes risks that ultimately allow it to transcend its type. A sequel this may be, though the film may be regarded individually, minus its service to one of the most popular trilogies of all time.

The first installment of the Future trilogy was a solid thrill, introducing mainstream audiences to the mind-bending possibilities of the space-time continuum. It was also typical Michael J. Fox fare, warm-spirited, embracing the clichéd world in which bullies can be beaten up by nerds.

Given the typical progression of sequels, the unforeseen individuality of Part II is apparent. The first installment of the series used time travel as a backdrop to a film with a commercially viable PG rating and a happy-meal friendly theme. Time-travel became the distinguishing characteristic of the second installment, which is what ultimately makes it a film deserving of individual merit.

The film, in whole, sports a labyrinthine narrative structure, reducing Pulp Fiction to a game of Classic Concentration played with four squares. The film begins with the end of the original, with Doc Brown exclaiming to Marty McFly that his family is in trouble nearly thirty years in the future. They hop in to the DeLorean and zip to 2015 as the familiar title theme builds. At this point stabbing fist in air, followed by the spoken chant of choice, is an appropriate gesture of excitement.

From here the film diverts away from the implications of its PG rating, becoming darker and more confusing. When Marty and Doc seemingly mend things in the future, they return to a present very different from the one they were previously in. This bleak “new” present is one of barred windows and chalk outlines. The two do not notice.

Marty enters his own house and is instantly chased out by an infuriated black man who chases him with a cocked bat. Rattled into panic, Marty meets up with Doc who has discovered that he has been committed to a mental hospital.

In a desperate effort to explain this changed present Doc offers an explanation worthy of a nomination for the Pulitzer Prize. He suggests the existence of separate timelines, that there is not one but several potential “realities,” each vulnerable to even the slightest disruption in the past. (This same concept is explored hilariously at the end of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.)

The two deduce that Biff Tannen, Marty’s bullying nemesis in every film (for that matter, every time period), stole the DeLorean in the future and traveled to the year 1955. He schemes a ploy to make himself a millionaire by giving his younger self a sports almanac that has every major sports score until 2000. Biff wagers his way to financial dominance, and, because he is the Bad Guy, things become all but peachy for Marty, who soon discovers that his dad has been murdered and that his mother is Biff’s moll. At this point in the film, Marty, overwhelmed by strife, screams “no” in a suspended moment of disbelief. Unlike other films that contain this cliché, in this instance the pressured character may be sympathized with rather than mocked.

In order to mend the present, Marty and Doc have to travel back to the exact moment that the younger Biff received the sports almanac. This will not be easy. Doc explains that neither he nor Marty may come in contact with himself in the past (Biff has already done this with no apparent consequence, but this detail is ignored). By doing so, in the words of Doc, they risk instigating a “paradox” that will ultimately “destroy the universe!” Despite the inherent humor in Doc’s goofy, pseudo-scientific claims, in this case his comment is crucial to the remainder of the film, which involves the two avoiding their doppelgangers in the year 1955.

Back to the Future Part II may have shocked parents during its theatrical run. The first film was not only immensely popular, but was one of the few blockbusters that children could get into. Part II incorporated both the staple features of the first film, and, at its base, a more mature theme. The film is ridden with obscenities, questionable violence, and an awkward moment of Oedipal frustration.

Notice the progression of events on one scene, in the “new” present: Marty finds his mother inside Biff’s gloomy tower. Her breasts have been noticeably augmented. Marty fixes his eyes on them, remarking “Mom…you’re so…so Big!” Biff enters, provoking an argument with Marty’s mother, slaps her to the ground and screams “I’ll cut your tits off!”

What is perhaps more controversial is the film’s implied renouncement of the role of God. Doc represents the voice of reason, debating that no one should know his own destiny. Yet his hypocrisy is revealed when he is willing to alter time to secure his or Marty’s future. Doc does not acknowledge that he is potentially shaping the future of those peripherally involved in his action. Because of his selfish obsession with his science, Doc has the fate of many in his hands.

This philosophy could be taken further (and is not, for the record, in Part III), but to critique it is somewhat futile. The realm of the Back to the Future trilogy is limited and simple. For that matter, it is completely rational that its main characters risk changing the lives of those around them.

There is one detail in regard to the completed trilogy that is erroneously irritating. At no point in the series does Marty travel back to the future. In order for one to travel back, one must have been there before — Back to the Present, admittedly, is far less compelling.