6 Upcoming Movie Sequels That Are Completely Doomed

Hollywood loves two things: money and the number “2.” Put them together and you get the modern sequel economywhere every brand gets franchised, every ending gets an asterisk, and “the final chapter” is legally required to have at least two more chapters.

So yes: some upcoming movie sequels are already giving off “group project due tomorrow” energy. And while nobody can truly predict the box office (if we could, we’d be writing spreadsheets, not jokes), we can spot warning signsfranchise fatigue, impossible expectations, creative whiplash, and “wait… wasn’t that character dead?” continuity gymnastics.

Below are six upcoming sequels with enough built-in problems to make you want to pre-order popcorn and a therapist. This is a tongue-in-cheek diagnosis, not a prophecythink of it as a fun, slightly chaotic guide to why certain franchises struggle to stick the landing.

Why Some Upcoming Sequels Feel “Doomed” Before They Even Premiere

When a sequel goes bad, it usually isn’t because audiences suddenly stopped liking movies. It’s because sequels tend to inherit three kinds of baggage:

• Legacy pressure: The original (or earlier entries) mean a lot to people. Nostalgia is powerful… and also extremely picky.
• Franchise exhaustion: If a series has been running for years, viewers can smell “cash grab” faster than a theater can smell burnt popcorn.
• Expectation inflation: Bigger casts, bigger stunts, bigger stakesuntil the movie is basically trying to outshout itself.

Now let’s talk about six sequels that may be walking into the cinema with a “Please clap” sign taped to their back.

1) Toy Story 5 (2026)

Why it looks doomed: “Toy Story” is one of the rare franchises that already nailed its goodbyesmultiple times. Each ending felt like a curtain call. Which means “Toy Story 5” enters with a simple, terrifying homework assignment: justify your existence.

The risk isn’t that it will be poorly made. The risk is that it will feel emotionally unnecessary. “Toy Story 4” gave the characters (especially Woody) a meaningful pivot, and many fans felt that chapter closed cleanly. A fifth installment has to avoid the “we found another reason to reopen the scrapbook” vibe.

There’s also the modern family-movie minefield: parents want heart, kids want chaos, and everyone wants the film to look like childhoodbut not like it’s stuck in childhood. That’s a narrow bridge to cross while juggling feelings.

What could save it: A genuinely fresh theme that fits 2026 life (without sounding like a corporate PowerPoint about “screen time”), plus a smaller, character-first story. If “Toy Story 5” makes audiences laugh and cry for new reasonsnot recycled onesit survives.

2) Shrek 5 (2026)

Why it looks doomed: The last mainline “Shrek” movie came out in 2010, which means the internet has had over a decade to turn Shrek into a meme, a philosophy, and at least three weird group chats. That’s not the same as building a satisfying movie narrative.

The biggest danger is tone. “Shrek” worked because it was sincere and sarcastic at the same timelike a fairy tale that knew it was a fairy tale, but still cared about the characters. Modern “self-aware” comedy can accidentally become “self-satisfied” comedy, where the movie winks so hard it strains an eyelid.

There’s also the sequel trap of “new kid, new stakes.” A new generation character (like a daughter) can be great, but it can also feel like a franchise resetting itself because it’s afraid to let the originals age. Viewers can sense that fear.

What could save it: Keep the heart. Let Shrek and Fiona be older in a way that’s funny and true. Make Donkey chaotic for story reasons, not just as background noise. If the film respects what made “Shrek” belovedunderdog warmth, clever satire, and emotional honestyit can be a surprise hit instead of a nostalgia trap.

3) The Matrix 5 (In Development)

Why it looks doomed: The “Matrix” series is built on innovation: new visual language, new ideas, new ways to melt your brain politely. The problem is that it’s very hard to be revolutionary… for the fifth time.

Recent installments split audiences, and a new entry faces an identity crisis: should it go full philosophical sci-fi? Full action blockbuster? Full meta-commentary about sequels being sequels? If it tries to do all three, it risks becoming a confused collagecool moments searching for a core.

And then there’s the “without the original creative engine” issue. When a franchise changes hands, fans worry the next film will copy the surface (slow-motion fights, trench coats, serious faces) while missing the soul (questions about reality, agency, and what it means to wake up).

What could save it: A bold new perspective that treats “Matrix” like a world with room to expand, not a museum to revisit. If the next film has one big ideaone scary, modern “what if?”it can justify returning to the simulation.

4) Fast Forever (Fast & Furious 11) (2028)

Why it looks doomed: This franchise has driven a car through almost every cinematic wall imaginable. It has gone from street racing to international espionage, and the laws of physics have filed a formal complaint. At a certain point, the question becomes: what’s left?

The core problem is scale addiction. When each movie tries to top the last, the plot starts to feel like a series of stunts connected by family speeches and extremely expensive explosions. If the final chapter leans too hard on bigger-and-bigger spectacle, it risks ending the saga with exhaustion rather than satisfaction.

Plus, finales are notoriously hard. They have to resolve long-running arcs, honor fan favorites, and deliver a payoff that feels earned. That’s tricky when your cast is massive, your timeline is tangled, and your cliffhangers are basically their own genre.

What could save it: Pull it back. Give the finale a clear emotional through-line. Make the action serve the story, not replace it. The most satisfying “Fast” ending won’t be the loudestit’ll be the one that remembers why people showed up in the first place: ridiculous fun with real affection for the characters.

5) Avengers: Doomsday (2026)

Why it looks doomed: The words “Avengers movie” now come with an invisible subtitle: Please recreate the magic of Endgame. That is a wildly unfair request, and Hollywood will attempt it anyway.

The modern MCU has a known challenge: it’s huge. If you haven’t watched certain films, shows, or spin-offs, it can feel like joining a TV series in season nine. A mega-team-up sequel risks becoming a homework assignment disguised as a blockbuster.

There’s also the multiverse problem: when anything can happen, nothing feels permanent. Stakes matter when the audience believes consequences will stick. If “Doomsday” becomes a parade of cameos and portals without a strong emotional spine, it’ll play like an expensive highlight reel.

What could save it: Simplicity and character clarity. Pick a few protagonists and let them carry the emotional weight. Use the multiverse as a tool, not the whole point. When audiences leave talking about choices and consequencesnot just surprise appearancesthe movie wins.

6) The Rey-Led Star Wars Sequel (New Jedi Order) (In Development)

Why it looks doomed: “Star Wars” isn’t just a franchise; it’s a family argument that happens to come with lightsabers. A sequel centered on Rey rebuilding the Jedi Order has exciting potentialand also a mountain of pressure.

This project has been publicly discussed for years, and development delays can create a perception problem: fans start treating the film like a rumor, not a real upcoming release. Meanwhile, the fandom remains split on the sequel trilogy era, which means the movie walks into an online discourse blender before the first trailer even drops.

Even if the film gets made, it has to answer a tough question: what does “Star Wars” feel like now? If it leans too hard into nostalgia, it’s accused of repetition. If it goes too far into reinvention, it’s accused of betrayal. That’s the rare lose-lose scenario that only mega-franchises can afford.

What could save it: A focused story about rebuildingcommunity, hope, and a new philosophy that doesn’t just copy the old Jedi playbook. Give Rey a distinct identity as a mentor, not just a hero. And for the love of the Force, make it accessible to people who don’t have a spreadsheet of canon timelines.

How to Spot a Doomed Sequel Before Opening Weekend

• It’s sold as an event, not a story: “You must see this!” is not the same as “Here’s why you’ll care.”
• It’s nostalgia first, narrative second: If the trailer feels like a reunion tour, be suspicious.
• It’s trapped between audiences: Trying to please hardcore fans and total newcomers can produce a movie that satisfies neither.
• It’s bigger on paper than on screen: Massive casts and universes can shrink characters into cameos.

Final Take: Are These Sequels Actually Doomed?

Here’s the honest twist: “doomed” sequels often make the most noise precisely because they’re risky. Big risk means big potentialeither for a glorious comeback or a cinematic faceplant you’ll talk about for weeks.

If these films can do one thingtell a story that feels necessary rather than inevitablethey might escape the franchise graveyard. Until then, we’ll be in the theater doing what we always do: hoping for greatness, bracing for chaos, and pretending we’re only buying popcorn “to share.”

Bonus: of Sequel-Doom Experiences (Because We’ve All Been There)

You know that feeling when a sequel gets announced and your first reaction is excitement… immediately followed by suspicion? It’s like hearing your favorite band is reuniting, and then realizing it’s the same name, a different drummer, and the tour is sponsored by a brand of bottled water you didn’t know existed. That’s the modern sequel experience in a nutshell: hopeful, skeptical, and weirdly thirsty.

There’s the trailer math phase, where everyone becomes a detective. A single shot of a character walking down a hallway can launch twenty think-pieces, three conspiracy threads, and at least one person insisting the hallway proves the movie is “literally about late-stage capitalism.” Meanwhile, you’re just trying to figure out if the sequel has the same vibe as the original, or if it’s about to become an aggressively shiny reboot wearing the original’s skin like a Halloween costume.

Then comes the group chat bargaining. One friend is all-in (“It’s gonna be amazing!”). Another is emotionally scarred from the last installment (“I can’t go through that again.”). Someone posts a screenshot of the rumored runtime like it’s a medical report. You start negotiating with yourself: If it’s bad, at least the snacks will be good. You’re basically pre-coping.

Opening weekend is its own ritual. The theater is filled with people who claim they’re “not that invested” while wearing a T-shirt that proves they are, in fact, invested. You can almost hear the collective internal monologue: Please don’t ruin my childhood. Please don’t ruin my childhood. The lights dim. The logo appears. Half the room cheers. The other half silently evaluates whether the logo looks “different” and what that means for society.

And if the sequel stumbles? The post-movie experience is oddly communal. Everyone becomes a critic on the walk to the parking lot. The good scenes get adopted like rescued pets (“That one moment was actually great!”). The messy parts get turned into memes within 24 hours. There’s comfort in the shared disappointment, like a support group that meets at a concession stand.

But when a sequel surprises youwhen it’s actually thoughtful, funny, and emotionally honestit hits harder because you didn’t expect it. That’s the addictive part. Sequels are gambles, and moviegoers are basically the people who say, “Sure, I’ll roll the dice again,” because the payoff is magic when it works. So yes, we complain. We side-eye announcements. We pretend we’re above it. And then we show up anyway… because deep down, we want the sequel to prove us wrong.

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