Somewhere out there, in this universe or another, there’s a third Aliens movie in which we discover that the monsters from the first two films are precursors to an intelligent, civilized species. When they want to colonize a new world, they drop a few eggs on it and let the gnarly beasts eliminate potential threats, then turn into a third phase that has poetry and technology and what-not. What drives the film is Ridley’s reaction to this discovery: can she set aside the horrors she has been through and make peace (however grudging) with the aliens, or is the trauma too much to overcome?
Somewhere else, in this universe or another, there’s a fourth Mad Max movie that picks up right where Thunder Dome left off. Max walks out of the desert into a peaceful little town on the coast with green lawns and well-fed people. When the war ground to a halt, a Russian nuclear submarine deliberately beached itself, and her captain made a deal with the townspeople: we give you electricity, you give us a home, because ours is now a smoking pile of radioactive rubble. All goes well until a ship comes over the horizon. She’s the last of the US fleet; her captain (I picture George C. Scott with an eyepatch) has one bomb left, and as far as he’s concerned, the war isn’t over until he says it’s over. He’s Ahab, and that beached submarine is his whale, and once again, what drives the film is the question of whether people can put their pasts behind them.
And somewhere, not far from here, Supernatural hasn’t been repeating itself for season after pointless, empty season. Instead, after the great arc of the first five seasons ended, the show went back and re-did episodes from the points of view of incidental characters. They sorted through the fan theories that explained away continuity glitches, picked the best (or at least the most entertaining), and firmed up the show’s canon while showing us all what it’s like to be the poor minimum-wage bastard at the gas station where the Winchesters keep showing up and causing mayhem.
In that universe, or another, DiMartino and Konietzko got the green light to do a third series in the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender. This one is set forty years after the events in The Legend of Korra, in a world not unlike our own 1950s, and is the story of the benders’ first space voyage to the moon, of the alien invasion that followed, and of spirits, love, adventure, and courage.
But most of all, somewhere out there, the Russos gave Bruce Banner and Natalia Romanova three minutes—just three minutes—to talk quietly with each other on the flight to Wakanda. Johansson and Ruffalo are two of the best actors working today, and I’m sure they could have broken our hearts if only they’d been given a chance.