A Round-Up Of The Internet's Premature 'Matrix' Reboot Rage
Here's what we know: The Hollywood Reporter broke a story that someone at Warner Bros. is pondering a reboot/remake of The Matrix. There's interest in Michael B. Jordan starring, there's no word on whether the Wachowskis would have any involvement, and Keanu Reeves said he'd have an interest in returning if they were involved. Zak Penn, the writer behind a small boatload of comic book properties, may be writing the script.
That entire wee little paragraph is everything the world knows about a Matrix reboot right now. This is how the world responded:
"Shameless." "Ruined." "NOOOOOOOOOO!" As you have likely come to expect, the internet reacted like your great-great-grandmother confronted with a woman showing her calf -- with utter bafflement and revulsion.
The first Matrix was an extremely good movie. It was a hardcore, kickass action extravaganza, and it had deep intellectual and philosophical themes as well -- something few action movies can ever pull off. The sequels were two huge scoops of poop in your morning coffee. Do you remember The Architect and his nonsensical exposition? Could you even tolerate the Merovingian with that smug-ass look on his face? What about the idiotic Powder Twin vampire rave Calvin Klein dreadlock twats? Did you like those? No you didn't. The sequels are to the original what masturbating with a sandpaper glove and lemon juice lube is to sex.
No one knows anything about the would-be reboot. If Keanu Reeves was in it, would it even be a remake or a sequel? Are they making Star Wars-like prequels? Remember that the Matrix trilogy was supposed to take place during just one iteration of the Matrix. Neo was never "The One" -- he was just "That One." This could be a story before Neo, or maybe long after, or maybe it's the same thing told again, because remakes work. Not only do they make money, but they can also be good. Go watch Cronenberg's The Fly. Or The Thing. The Departed. Scarface. True Grit. Cape Fear. Dracula. A Fistful Of Dollars. There's a super long list of remakes that didn't turn into soul-crushing Ninja Turtle franchises.
There are plenty of reasons to remake The Matrix based solely on the potential of the first film. It was super good. The sequels were super colon-twisters. So it wouldn't hurt to go back to that universe and maybe try not sucking. Also, The Matrix has not aged well. The effects are great and the story is great, but there are a couple of hiccups in the ol' presentation that could use some window dressing. First of all, that red pill issue. The Red Pill has been co-opted by the men's rights movement as a representation of finally seeing the gynocracy of terrible feminism oppressing dudes who never skip leg day and just want to squeeze boobs without the hassle of acknowledging the personality attached, dammit! Or some shit, I don't care. Point is, it has a whole lot of baggage these days. So a new Matrix would need to give us a cool new metaphor that distances itself from that. I suggest using kitties and puppies. Choose the kitty and return to your virtual world. Choose the puppy and live.
Wait, scratch that. It's too easy for those dipshits to turn that into a pussy metaphor.
Another sore pre-millennium thumb is the style of The Matrix. Those trench coats, man. Those haircuts and that music and everything all have to go. If The Matrix was never made back in the day and just appeared now, you'd elbow your buddy so hard and say, "Look at this emo loaf of shit." Yes, you'd be judging a book by its cover, but we do that. And the cover of this book looks like a dubstep wank fantasy at a costume shop in Las Vegas during a swinger's convention.
But maybe they're already changing the style and making it a big fat steampunk jamboree with animated mice who teach children a valuable lesson about sharing. Or maybe everyone in the Matrix is going to wear stovepipe hats and grass skirts. Who the hell knows? No one, because there's nothing but a meager paragraph of information about something someone might do in the future. It contains about as much detail as your slacker roommate's idea for an app that will totally pay off the rent someday.
So rest easy tonight, knowing your childhood isn't ruined, nor will it be by a two-hour movie you don't actually have to see. It probably won't be improved either, since your childhood already happened. Unless the new Matrix can time travel and make you piss your pants at your 13th birthday, you're probably safe. Probably.