There is an old dictum in Hollywood, especially relevant in our cheapened times, that franchises never end, but only remain dormant until resurrected by a keen, or opportunistic, studio. And so it has been reported that The Matrix is returning to our screens, complete with Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss. (The fact that both their characters died in the last instalment is presumably neither here nor there.)
Lana Wachowski is writing, producing and directing, although her sister Lilly is sitting this one out. The response to the news so far has been positive; the bunting has been hung out, the fatted calf sacrificed and the thousands of critical quills sharpened. The hundreds of millions of eagerly quivering paws waiting to offer their ten dollars will be rewarded in due course. And yet, amidst the mass excitement, the sober question has to be: “will it be any good?”
