When Gladiator II was announced, understandably, the inflammation of internet skepticism eclipsed a lot of the initial excitement. In the 2000 classic, Maximus (Russell Crowe) dies a heroic death and is reunited with his family in the sky, and the megalomaniac bad guy, Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), is abandoned both in death and spirit – what an ending.
So now, a quarter of a century later, director Ridley Scott is resurrecting his multi-Oscar-winning swords and sandals epic because…well, uh…truthfully, I have no idea. And yet, despite failure after failure (the bitter stench of last year’s expensive disaster, Napoleon, still lingering), Paramount and Hollywood thought it be a good idea to bank $310 million (AED 1.1 billion) on an 86 year old’s attempt to channel cinematic nostalgia for today’s audiences, only to deliver a regurgitated story that flatlines even before we hear the first, “strength and honour.”
Much like the original Gladiator, the sequel begins with a rehashed battle sequence that concludes with the invading Romans capturing our protagonist, Lucius (Paul Mescal). Lucius isn’t the most loquacious chap either and is merely defined by one, Wolverinesque verb: rage. This rage is released when Lucius and his fellow slaves fight a swarm of (insultingly bad CGI) baboons.
“I’ll take him,” gladiator/slave owner, Denzel Washington, scoffs from the bleachers, bedazzled in a Flava Flav inspired wardrobe. One also couldn’t help but notice that Denzel is the only character throughout the film with an immaculate set of polished veneers – perhaps he had a Roman dentist to who nobody else had access in that era.
Lucius and co. defeat the monkeys, and thereby move on to the second round of Roman deathmatch where they fight an armored Rhino, followed by sharks in the colosseum swimming pool (again, both irate animal species are horribly animated). Spectating from the bleachers are the draconian toxic twins (Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger), both of whom wear more eye shadow than all the members of My Chemical Romance combined, and speak in a Dracula inspired drawl that feels more suitable for a Tim Burton movie.
In one scene, Denzel proudly wields the severed head of one of the decapitated twins, a prop that looks as if it were bought on eBay in a desperate attempt to decorate the driveway the night before Halloween.
A lot of unnecessary, lazily written monologues about strength and honour fill the additional 150 minutes of running time when characters aren’t sword fighting, and Paul Mescal tries to convince us that he’s formidable with a sword, nonetheless that he can deliver a speech with the same intensity as his on-screen father, Russell Crowe. You may be wondering, “You didn’t talk about Pedro Pascal. He looked pretty cool. What was his character arc?” No idea. And neither did the guy who wrote him.
When the film finally ended, I couldn’t help but feel cheated and betrayed. When I initially discussed the film a few months ago, I wrote with a sense of impressed optimism over Scott’s work ethic at 86 years old. But after seeing the film, and taking Scott’s latest cinematic flops into consideration, I can only view this as a glutinous, money-squandering ego project meant to satisfy no one but the self absorbed Scott himself. Like, come on, dude. You’re Ridley f’ing Scott. Who’s going to say ‘no’ to you? You made Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator, Thelma & Louise, even a music video for Roxy Music just for good measure…what more do you need to prove? Perhaps that an ailing film studio will rather invest in the memories of yesteryear than looking to the future. And yet, people appear shocked when reading about Paramount chopping 15% of its US based staff…*sigh*.
A few years ago, one of my best friends expressed his frustration that the “old” directors are still getting blank checks to make whatever they want, whereas Hollywood isn’t banking a penny on any up and coming talent. I found his remarks bitter, but after yesterday’s screening, I completely agree. Francis Ford Coppola’s outrageously expensive flop, Megalopolis, isn’t helping the case for old directors either, but at least Coppola financed the film himself. If you want to sell your (almost) entire world famous vineyard to finance your lifelong passion project entirely by yourself, fine by me; if you’re bankrupting studios due to your own entitlement, you deserve some criticism.
Earlier this year, first time writer/director Cord Jefferson won an Oscar for best adapted screenplay for American Fiction (2023). With a budget of around $10 million (AED 36m) , the film pulled in over $22 million (AED 80m), doubling its budget and winning an Oscar in the process (on top of its many additional nominations). In his acceptance speech, Jefferson said, “I’ve been talking a lot about how many people passed on this movie, and I worry that sometimes sounds vindictive. I don’t want to be vindictive, I’m not a vindictive person anymore and I’ve worked very hard to not be vindictive anymore. It’s more a plea to acknowledge and recognise that there are so many people out there who want the opportunity that I was given. I understand that this is a risk-averse industry, I get it. But $200 million movies are also a risk. And it doesn’t always work out, but you take the risk anyway. Instead of making one $200 million movie, try making 20 $10 million movies. Or 50 $4 million movies.”
I guess Ridley and Paramount weren’t watching TV that night.
Gladiator II releases on November 13, 2024.
