I didn’t see either of the other two Maze Runner films. That’s my own fault, the due diligence that I never bothered to perform. I was ready to go into the film ready to dismiss it, not in an asshole way, just a piece of YA-pop-trash arriving a couple of years after its time.
Okay, sure, Dead Man’s Chest is a incoherently structured trashpile and At World’s End is an overlong, overstuffed mess and with On Stranger Tides they realised far too late that Depp’s Jack Sparrow can’t carry a film on his own. But despite all that, despite all the self-indulgence and self-importance threatening to overwhelm it, there’s a core to these films which I can’t escape.