The sequel is a dubious beast. Almost always inferior to whatever greatness preceded it and viewed as little more than a desperate cash grab, it’s largely an artistically hollow affair.
The Hunger Games: Catching Fire is one of the incredibly rare exceptions to this.
Like a phoenix from the ashes, this stunning anomaly is a complete and utter improvement on the original in every way. The emotions are more tangible, the design is more intricate and — most importantly — it finally does not shy away from depicting the vicious action that beats through its dark heart.
Ever since Harry Potter lumbered into holiday cinemas and became the all-conquering annual box-office cudgel that couldn’t be stopped, prospective young adult fiction authors (and studio executives) have frantically churned out franchise after franchise in the hopes of landing the next great white billion-dollar-deal.
But for every Twilight, there have been 10 Percy Jacksons and Golden Compasses.