“Gladiator II,” the sequel to 2001’s best picture winner, “Gladiator,” was released in theatres Nov. 22.
Taking place in 200 A.D., 16 years after the original, the film follows Hanno (Paul Mescal), who lives a quiet life in Numidia with his wife Arisha. However, Rome invades, killing Arisha and making Hanno a slave gladiator. He soon finds himself as the political tool of his owner Macrinus (Denzel Washington) in his attempt to court the tyrannical twin emperors — Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) — and catches the eye of General Acacius (Pedro Pascal) and Acacius’ wife Lucilla (Connie Nielson).
The film opens with a shot of Hanno hands rummaging through a basket of harvested wheat, a direct reference to Gladiator’s famous shot of Maximus (Russell Crowe) finding peace in the afterlife. It tells us that what was sown in the first film has now been reaped. The grain that was springing with hope and contentment alongside Maximus is now hard, cold and dead.
Starting with its opening shot, the film struggles to decide whether it is a continuation or rebuttal of its predecessor. Denzel’s character twice quotes real-life emperor Marcus Aurelius’ — who looms large over both films as Lucilla’s father and the paragon of what the films consider virtue — famous work “Meditations,” saying “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” This is true of both Denzel’s character and the film overall. It asks us to examine the ideas provided by what came before it — is a great man the answer to our problems? Are the ideals we have fought for in our best interest?
These ideas and the dialogue surrounding them are muddied. In the film’s conceit, a plot-driving twist, we find out that Hanno is actually the son of Maximus and Lucilla, and thus Marcus Aurelius’ grandson. Until this reveal, Hanno’s strength to carry on has come from the death of his wife and his people’s suffering. Now, it is his lineage and the idea of his martyred father that drives him forward. But the latter reasoning sadly rings hollow.
The film’s first half was built upon Hanno’s rage over his mother’s abandonment of him and the Roman Empire’s false ideals. After a weakly depicted realization of his love for his mother, father and the promise of Rome, what he was standing against becomes what he is fighting for. This switch was wholly unearned and retracts any claims the sequel had to new ideological ground.
Anyone familiar with the first film would be shocked at the unveiling of Hanno’s lineage. It flies in the face of what Crowe’s Maximus was built to be: a family man and warrior. Now, his relationship to the wife and son that greeted him in the afterlife is tainted by an illegitimate son born to a princess. What are we to make of the virtuosity of the man that died for Rome’s future? With an active rebuttal of his most important characteristics, Maximus is just a name and chest plate to reference.
Blood and Romanitas are the ideological center of the film’s conflict, but there is never enough ideological coherence to resolve it. Denzel’s Macrinus is the film’s villain, a former slave attempting to claim the Roman throne. He abides by dual beliefs that the strongest must rule and that fear is the maintainer of peace. Hanno consistently believes… well… in practically nothing. The constant shifting of his moral code makes the revolution he inspires, and eventually succeeds in enacting, tough to pin down.
It is unclear whether this is a revolution that returns the power to the people or reinstates an older dynasty on a hereditary throne. But even if the form of government was clear, the ideas it is built upon could not be. Hanno and his movement simultaneously arise from the struggles of the downtrodden and depend on connections to the aristocracy. The film tries to make Hanno a response to what came before, but he can be nothing more than a continuation of what was already.
While muddled, these faults speak nothing of what is important in a successful blockbuster film. The opening invasion of Numidia is enthralling and intense, and the Colosseum’s water-filled set piece is inventive and the film's most successful fight scene. Arrows, catapults and mortars have never been so visceral. The fighting is grand without turning into an Marvel-esque CGI fest and personal enough to make every blow matter.
The performances vary from genuine to campy. Mescal is tasked with more than he is capable of as the heir to Crowe’s legendary performance and the counterweight to Denzel. Denzel is larger than life and the true centerpoint of the film. Mescal does not buckle under the weight of the franchise, but is better tasked to be vassal to the screen that Denzel owns.
Denzel’s performance feels more akin to his star-turning performances in “Training Day” or “Glory” than an actual representation of a Roman elite. He functions as an idea in contrast to Mescal’s sincere actuality. The former offers loftiness while the latter gives weight.
Bloated and talkative for a film where two separate characters emphasize their lack of skill at oration, “Gladiator II” is messy and imperfect. However, it is also enjoyable and argumentative — most often with itself. The period and performances are built for the big screen. It does not fall for the trappings of frustrating legacy sequels like the recent “Star Wars” trilogy or “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny,” although it itches for the hit of a callback. It is not wholly its own or comfortable in new territory, but it does enough to validate its existence and offers an enjoyable escape.
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Kadin Purath is a Trinity junior and a culture editor for Recess.