Ridley Scott may never stop making movies, and on the basis of Gladiator II, that’s a very good thing.
Following two imposing historical epics (The Last Duel, Napoleon), the prolific 86-year-old auteur delves even further back in time for a sequel to his 2000 Best Picture winner. He comes up with a massive, rugged 200 A.D. tale of honor, treachery, idealism, and bloodshed that makes up for the absence of Russell Crowe with grander set pieces and a phenomenally devious turn by Denzel Washington.
There’s no question that, in most respects, Scott’s film, which hits theaters Nov. 22, in theaters, is an elaborate imitation of its predecessor. If little more than a cover song, however, it’s a majestic and malicious one that reaffirms its maker’s unparalleled gift for grandiosity.
Sixteen years after the events of Gladiator, Lucius (Paul Mescal) lives with his wife in the coastal city of Numidia. When the Roman Empire comes calling with conquest on its mind, Lucius and his bride take up arms to defend their home. Regrettably, they’re crushed by an army led by general Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal), who returns home to be feted by Rome’s corrupt sibling emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger), the former cruel and the latter—a leashed monkey wearing a dress often perched on his shoulder—crazy courtesy of syphilis.
Geta and Caracalla opt to celebrate Marcus’ North African triumph by hosting a round of Colosseum games, and though the military commander would prefer to spend time at home with his partner Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), the daughter of deceased emperor Marcus Aurelius and the lover of Crowe’s fallen Maximus, he’s given no choice but to attend.
The participants of these games are gladiators supplied by Macrinus (Washington), a cunning politician who instinctively identifies Lucius—who’s been taken prisoner and brought to Rome in the aftermath of Numidia’s defeat—as a promising prospect.
While Lucius doesn’t know the full details of his lineage, Gladiator II provides enough early parallels between him and Maximus to make it quite clear, and at least at outset, his primary goal isn’t securing his freedom by prevailing in Colosseum combat but avenging his spouse by slaying Marcus. Macrinus is happy to strike a deal with the warrior so that they both get what they want, and it turns out to be a fruitful one, with Macrinus currying favor with the emperors thanks to Lucius’ prowess with a blade, and the enslaved protagonist inching his way closer to a showdown with the man he blames for his misfortune.
Gladiator II complicates Lucius’ mission by revealing that, far from a heartless warmonger, Marcus is a noble soldier who’s grown weary of ceaseless carnage, and plots with Lucilla to to overthrow the emperors and achieve Marcus Aurellius’ dream of a democratic Rome governed by the Senate and dedicated to serving all its citizens equally.
This is the same thing that motivated Maximus to rebel in the first film, just as Lucius’ ascension from lowly, disrespected gladiator to rousing rebel leader more or less mirrors his dad’s evolution. In case Lucius’ connection to Maximus and Lucilla wasn’t obvious enough from the get-go, David Scarpa’s script has Lucius recite a Virgil poem that adorns his mom’s bedroom wall and recognize the quote (“What we do in life echoes in eternity”) that’s inscribed above his pop’s tomb, thereby additionally rendering Scott’s latest a straightforward like father, like son rehash.
But what a rehash it is! No one directs large-scale warfare like Scott, and he demonstrates that peerless skill during Marcus’ opening siege on Numidia.
With thrilling intensity, Gladiator II conveys the weight of Rome’s ships, the wildness of the ocean, the heat of flaming catapult projectiles, the arduousness of men pulling ropes and rowing oars, and the brutality of swords clashing and arrows piercing flesh. Everything resounds with ferocity, not to mention overwhelming scale, whether the director is staging titanic conflicts on land and sea, one-on-one brawls in the gargantuan Colosseum, or conspiratorial conversations between power players in ornate chambers. Better still, Scott’s CGI vistas of his enormous locales are an improvement over those found in Gladiator, lending the material an extra measure of lavish authenticity.
Gladiator II’s centerpieces similarly one-up those that came before it, such that instead of merely pitting man against tigers, the film delivers showstoppers involving savage primates, rampaging rhinos, and hungry sharks. Those bestial battles contribute to the action’s muscular barbarism, while Mescal gives it its rage. The actor may not wholly fill Crowe’s shoes, yet he exhibits a requisite degree of passion and valor, more than capably shouldering this immense venture.
His supporting cast is likewise compelling and colorful, be it Nielsen as a mother defined by principled commitment to her cause and her son, Pascal as a fighter devoted to peace, or Quinn and Hechinger as a pair of megalomaniacal tyrants who consider themselves gods, are delighted by murder and mayhem, and foolishly think that their positions protect them from suffering the same fates as the combatants who fight for their amusement.
Scott’s trump card, however, is Washington, stealing every scene as the calculating Macrinus, whose designs for himself, and all of Rome, are informed by his subjugated past. His body swathed in long, vibrant robes, his ears decorated by small hoops earrings, his chin covered in a graying goatee, and his fingers bejeweled with big, shiny rings that clatter almost as loudly as his giant gold necklace, Washington’s baddie is a flamboyant schemer adept at manipulating those around him with a whisper and a smile. With watchful eyes, an outwardly deferential demeanor, and a fluid manner that belies his viper-like lethality, he’s a larger-than-life figure fit for this vast film.
Since it rarely deviates from its predecessor’s narrative formula—right down to having Lucius repeatedly scoop up gravel in his hand, and giving him his own Black comrade—Gladiator II boasts few surprises, and its outcome is so preordained that the climax is less than wholly rousing. The primary thrills, instead, come from Scott’s vigorous stewardship, as when his camera bobs along the choppy sea as warships enter and flank the frame, and from Washington’s devilish performance as a wheeler-dealer willing to do whatever it takes to remake the world in his image.
Gladiator II may not be remembered for all time (as the emperors hope they will be), and it never reckons with celebrating the very bloodsport its tale condemns. Nonetheless, as far as second passes go, it’s a worthy heir.
