4 R-Rated Sequels to Children's Movies Too Awesome to Exist

4 Toy Story: The Toys Out Themselves to the World and Demand Their Rights

The underlying sadness of the Toy Story series is that these charming toys are living full lives in secrecy. It's depressing. When are they going to out themselves and demand to be treated like the humans who play with them? In this movie, that's exactly what happens, and it's all due to Bonnie, the little girl the gang is left with at the end of Toy Story 3.

Bonnie, now around 12 years old, knows the toys are alive. Let's say she caught Woody and Buzz having one of their bromantic arguments a few years before the start of the movie. Rather than turning into a damaged wacko who could never recover from seeing something that crazy, she embraced it.

They listen when she's sad, throw her surprise birthday parties, stay up late telling scary stories on Halloween -- the toys are her friends. They even help Bonnie with her homework. As Bonnie learns about the world through textbooks, the toys do the same. They've lived in this world for years, but they've never learned much about it. Every concept Bonnie learns is also new to them, like the ideas of basic civil rights and freedom. When Woody hears this, he has a realization -- toys aren't free. So, he sets out to change that by becoming the poster boy for toy acceptance.

It's the struggle of trying to find your place in a world that is terrified of you, doesn't take you seriously, or flat-out doesn't believe you're real. It's also a story about how the intolerance of older generations gives way to the acceptance of younger generations. Bonnie clearly loves her toys and isn't bothered in the slightest by this major development, but her mom and parents around the world are losing their shit watching toys come to life, all fearing a Chucky pandemic.

For decades, or maybe centuries, toys have been alive and, as far as the movies tell us, they mean no harm to children (unless you're a dick kid like Sid). Apparently, in the Toy Story universe, whatever magic (or whatever you want to call it) gives the toys life also makes them unable to mistreat children. The overall message of the movie, and of the series as a whole, really, is that toys are pure unconditional love. They don't care who you are, they just want to play. If you respect them, they'll respect you. For a very long time they've respected us, and now they want some respect in return.

By the end of Wreck-It Ralph, Ralph has learned to accept his role as the villain of his game, and the community has accepted him as a person. When we meet him in our let's-be-real-this-shit-will-never-happen sequel, he's made so much progress that he's not just a member of the support group for bad guys, he's a motivational speaker. It's like if Tony Robbins were made of binary code.

It's a story about the struggles of trying to spread a message of self-acceptance and peace as a bunch of assholes are standing in your way. And those assholes are console video game characters. Arcades aren't as profitable as they once were, thanks to console video games. As Ralph and his gang are spreading the good word, game companies have made and are installing arcade games starring moody, morally complex, violent console characters to draw a new generation of arcade gamer. Their world view has been shaped by death, rape, murder, drugs, blood, dismemberment, destruction, genocide -- they're a real bummer, and they're the heroes of their games.

Ralph's efforts to spread good vibes are thwarted by these console assholes who try to convince everyone that the world just isn't a happy place.

Caught in the middle is Calhoun, Jane Lynch's Call of Duty/Halo-inspired character. Her best friends are arcade characters, but she comes from a long line of angsty, violent console game characters. She is the conduit by which Ralph can reach the console characters, with whom she feels a kinship. Which side will she take in this ideological war between happy-go-lucky old-school video game peaceniks and people who think bathing in an enemy's blood is the same as actually bathing? Can these console "heroes" who want everyone to be as sad and angry as they are, who fully believe they are the future of video games, undo all the work Ralph has done to better himself? Will he be forced to become violent again? Will he abandon his newfound principles and use his giant fuck-off hands to smash Kratos' skull or smack the shit out of Nathan Drake's smarmy face? The movie would be one big therapy session. Ralph thought his problems were bad, but HOLY SHIT -- console heroes are horrible people. Can he save them?

2 Home Alone: Kevin McCallister Is Crazy

There's a mansion over on the rich side of town that's been supposedly empty for months, or is so believed by the group of criminals with dim wits and lofty aspirations that we follow throughout the story. It's owned by some rich guy who, rumor has it, is some jet-setting playboy. Why not break in while the owner is off getting blown by Tahitian prostitutes on a beach? Besides, he's probably insured out the ass -- by cleaning him out, they'll be making him money. These morons picked this specific house on one of the rare days its owner is in it. The owner is Kevin McCallister from the Home Alone series.

Surviving repeated home invasions as a child turned Kevin into a massively paranoid and deranged adult. He's like those people in real life who buy bullet-proof couches that double as weapons caches, but with a lot more money.

Kevin is a wildly successful home security expert, because of course he is. He's developed cutting-edge security systems for the average home, major corporations, and the U.S. government, but he's just as famous for being the world's richest shut-in, like Howard Hughes with less piss jars. There isn't even a general consensus as to where he lives most of the time. He owns multiple homes across the globe and never stays in any of them for too long, but they're all heavily fortified bunkers. He's a ghost to the world, which would make Macaulay Culkin's natural ghostly pallor perfect to play a man who hasn't seen much sun in a couple of decades.

The idiot thieves think they're going to have to deal with a guard dog or two, maybe a security keypad next to the front door. But in the tradition of Home Alone, the place is loaded with insane, often deadly traps. I'm not clever enough to give you some good examples of some of the traps. My ideas begin and end with a crook opening a closet and getting blown to shit by a cannon. So just assume all the traps are better than a string attached to a doorknob that pulls the trigger on a cannon, because I think cannons have triggers.

This movie is what all slasher movie series end up being by the fifth sequel: a movie where we root for the murderer. The intruders get picked off one by one as McCallister operates the death traps like he's a world-class concert pianist from his control center off in a far-off corner of the compound and we all laugh at the dumb people getting ripped apart by explosive closets.

It's been three decades since their adventure to find One-Eyed Willie's treasure. The Goonies gang converges back in Astoria, Oregon, on the 30th anniversary of their adventure. They're being honored with a parade and a festival for saving their town. Mikey is a museum curator in Astoria. Data works at one of those patent companies you see on late night TV. Mouth is a shitty late night radio DJ. Brand and Andy were married, now divorced. And Stef ... well, there wasn't really much in the original movie to build off of, so let's say she sells hand-made artisanal doorstops on Etsy. But none have been hit harder than Chunk. Sloth, his best friend in the world, died a few years before, and he's been a wreck ever since.

Mikey hated seeing all his friends live unfulfilling, unhappy lives, so he prepared a surprise for the 30th anniversary. He's been researching, charting maps, and questioning fellow historians about the tale of, let's say, infamous pirate and explorer the Notorious Richard Head and the loot he stashed away off the coast of Oregon. Or maybe something about Sir Francis Drake, who is rumored to have spent some time in Oregon in the late 1500s. Mikey presents everyone with his findings and proposes another adventure. They all think he's crazy ... except for Chunk. Sloth would say yes to another adventure, so he's saying yes. This time, instead of Mikey giving a rousing "It's our time down here!" speech to convince the group, a speech with the same sentiment is delivered by Chunk. Chunk was the butt of the jokes in the first movie; 30 years later, he's ready to be the hero.

We need a villain, so let's bring in someone a little like Belloq from Raiders of the Lost Ark -- a rival historian and bookworm who has devoted his life to finding the fabled treasure of the Notorious Richard Head, but more than that, has always wanted his own Goonies-style adventure, and he feels Mikey is greedily snatching away his best opportunity.

And with that, they're off -- a group of adults whose best years are decades behind them trying to recapture some of the magic of youth. It's the ultimate tale of a midlife crisis. Instead of buying expensive cars or having affairs, they try to inject childlike wonder back into their adult lives.

It's kind of like this article, really. What a bummer. Here's a video of a cute cat ...

Luis is busy combining the fun of Homeward Bound with the euthanasia of Million Dollar Baby. When he's not depressifying your childhood, he can be found on Twitter and Tumblr.

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