Photo: COURTESY OF YANNIS DRAKOULIDIS / FOCUS FEATURES
Say “cheese!” — or is that “feta!”?
You know these are strange times for moviegoers when legacy sequels borne of the 2000s and 2010s are now old enough to get legacyquels of their own. The concept dates back to at least the 1980s, with Psycho II (1983) and The Color of Money (1986) re-introducing a new generation of viewers to iconic characters from culturally significant films of the past. However, this 21st-century resurgence of an ’80s trend (hardly the only instance of such a phenomenon, to be sure) has seen a new wrinkle unfold as the ’20s progress: legacyquels to legacyquels.
First Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008), then Dial of Destiny (2023). The long-awaited Toy Story 3 (2010), then Toy Story 4 (2019) for good measure. Wes Craven’s swan song Scream 4 (2011), then the echoic Scream (2022) and Scream 6 (2023). Now, a third My Big Fat Greek Wedding. One common theme permeates these nostalgic sequels to reverent reboots: They only offer mere morsels of what made the originals so worthwhile. It’s like some kind of cinematic equivalent to Plato’s allegory of the cave.
If you don’t recall the events of My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2 (2016) — or, as many may say, simply never saw it — you have nothing to feel bad about. I just caught up with the sequel earlier this year, and already I’ve forgotten most of what happened. The latest entry makes no effort to catch you up, save for an opening montage of stills from the previous two films seen hanging on the wall. (Always makes me laugh to see this sort of thing. Who took those photos? No one had a camera out in that scene!) Instead, it’s right into the action: Portokalos family patriarch Gus (Michael Constantine) is dead, and his dying wish was for daughter Toula (Nia Vardalos) to deliver his journal to his three childhood friends in Greece.
Accompanying Toula on the trip? Husband Ian (John Corbett), daughter Paris (Elena Kampouris), brother Nick (Louis Mandylor), aunts Voila (Andrea Martin) and Frieda (Maria Vacratsis) and Aristotle (Elias Kacavas) — a young man of ambiguous relation to the Portokaloses. Is he the son of a family friend? Paris’s ex? A plot convenience? It’s never quite clear, nor does it ever really matter. He’s there to be paired with Paris, as evidenced by his introductory scene and every scene he shares after that.
Upon arrival, they meet Victory (Melina Kotselou): the so-called mayor of Gus’ hometown who turns out to be one of just six residents left after the area’s water supply dried up. What follows is not unlike the later acts of the prior films: alternating hangout scenes and bits galore. (And, inevitably, a marriage ceremony.) The jokes miss more often than they hit, and moments of sincerity are devoid of the intended emotion nine times out of 10, but who’s more at fault here? Writer-director-producer-star Nia Vardalos, who has only ever helmed a feature one other time in her career, nearly 15 years ago? Or me, the person expecting more from this trilogy-capper arriving two decades after a first installment that sufficed just fine by itself and definitely would have been better off standing alone?
If it sounds like I’m harping on Vardalos, I don’t mean to. To her credit, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3 does have its saving graces. Namely, Corbett and Martin’s characters. Ian has never had very much to do in this series but stand there and keep his cool, but Corbett does it so well. (See also: his character Aidan Shaw in Sex and the City, Sex and the City 2 and And Just Like That… They keep bringing him back for a reason, you know.) Similarly, Martin makes scene-stealing seem effortless. It’s no wonder, either. Her comedic chops have been known since her SCTV days in the late 1970s. “I will be your favorite,” she declares to Victory outside the airport. Unsurprisingly, she’s right.
Rampant callbacks and mildly pleasant vacation vibes aside, there’s a mess going on with the technical components here. Editing is both choppy and hurried, leaving little room for any emotional beats (let alone punchlines) to resonate with the audience before the film quickly heads to the next scene. Camera coverage is just as incoherent at times, with certain shots appearing so out of place that they look like shrapnel from hastily deleted scenes. Sets and locations look convincingly lived in — thanks in large part to an on-location shoot in gorgeous Athens and the surrounding countryside — but that can only take a viewer so far.
Does this movie need to exist? Did any sequels ever need to come out of the record-breaking, critically acclaimed, treacly sweet 2002 film? The answer is obviously no. However, this isn’t the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the DC Universe, the Star Wars universe or some other billion-dollar franchise spanning tens of theatrical and streaming releases that pressure you to keep up with every new addition to the canon. Those who wish to see the newest developments in the lives of the Portokalos family will show up (and would show up for more after this, too — me included). Those who don’t, won’t.
There are no stakes here. Just 90-something minutes of harmless diversion as flavorful as a fast food gyro — yet, somehow, still vaguely appetizing.
