Producers: Douglas Wick, Ridley Scott, Lucy Fisher, Michael Pruss and David Franzoni Director: Ridley Scott Screenplay: David Scarpa Cast: Paul Mescal, Pedro Pascal, Joseph Quinn, Fred Hechinger, Lior Raz, Derek Jacobi, Connie Nielsen, Denzel Washington. Peter Mensah, Matt Lucas, Alexander Karim, Rory McCann, Tim McInnerny, Alec Utgoff, Yuval Gonen and Alfie Tempest Distributor: Paramount
Grade: C
The history is hooey in Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator II,” but that didn’t stop the original from becoming a smash in 2000 and an enduring favorite for many, so it shouldn’t impede this long-awaited sequel’s chances for success. What might, however, is that it lacks its predecessor’s emotional core, as well as an equally memorable lead character—elements one is reminded of in the opening credits, which replay the first film’s plot in lovely pastel-colored drawings.
The script by David Scarpa, who previously worked with Scott on “Napoleon” and “All the Money in the World,” begins in the early third century, some two decades after the events of the original (which closed around 193), with an attack on Numidia, apparently a kingdom (rather than the Roman province it actually was) ruled by brawny chieftain Jugurtha (Peter Mensah), by a fleet led by the Roman general Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal). Among its defenders are rugged Hano (Paul Mescal) and his wife Arishat (Yuval Gonen), a master archer. In the ensuing battle—the first of many lengthy set-pieces expertly staged by Scott along with cinematographer John Mathieson, editors Claire Simpson and Sam Restivo, production designer Arthur Max, costumers Janty Yates and Dave Crossman, the stunt team and the effects contingent supervised by Neil Corbould and Mark Bakowski, all to the accompaniment of Harry Gregson-Williams’ typically thunderous score—Arishat is killed and Hano taken prisoner.
Hano comes to the attention of Macrinus (Denzel Washington), a wily, flamboyant owner of gladiators and arms merchant, who, along with his chief trainer Vigo (Lior Raz), sees the captive as a prime candidate for stardom in the arena. He quickly wows the crowd in the Colosseum, enriching Macrinus, who worms his way into the confidence of fraternal emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger), both gilded and effete, though Caracalla is the weirder of the two, devoted as he is to his pet monkey.
Hano’s popularity with the fickle mob grows not only because of his dominance over human opponents, but his success against animal ones—first bloodthirsty baboons, then a swordsman riding a rhinoceros, and finally sharks, in a sequence in which the amphitheater is flooded to allow for a pretend naval battle. (All the critters are of only middle-grade CGI, but modern viewers will probably cheer on the elaborate set-pieces as lustily as the Colosseum thousands do. Monkeys and rhinos and sharks, oh my!)
But the most devoted of the onlookers is no doubt Lucilla (Connie Nielsen, one of the few returnees from the original), the daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius who’d been the lover of the first film’s General Maximus (Russell Crowe), and had a son by him before her brother Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix) turned against the general, leading to Maximus’ enslavement, his gladiatorial career and, ultimately, his climactic duel with Commodus. She’d sent the boy away to protect him, and then married Acacius. Now she recognizes Hano as her long-lost son, Lucius Verus.
But Hano/Lucius hates Acacius, whom he holds responsible for Arishat’s death, and wants to destroy him. What he doesn’t know is that Acacius and Lucilla are leading an effort to overthrow the emperors, who are leading the state to ruin. Nor is he aware of the true purposes of Macrinus, who is using him, and the wealth he brings through his victories, to fulfill his own grandiose ambitions. Though there are necessarily narrative twists and turns, it’s inevitable that Hano/Lucius will ultimately take up the mantle left by his father to Make Rome Great Again. That will require heroic sacrifice, reconciliations, and, of course, lots of bloodshed.
Apart from the fact that the historical background is a complete mess—the period is generally correct, and some names reflect actual personages from it, even if they’re assigned to utterly fictional characters—“Gladiator II” is a fairly exciting bit of hokum in the mold of its predecessor or earlier Roman epics. But Mescal, for all the praise his recent work has gotten, doesn’t possess the charisma that Crowe exuded; he certainly passes muster physically and manages the arena fights well (although the CGI is often annoyingly over-the-top), but never makes the character come into focus. In fact, Pascal brings the conflicted Acacius more emotionally alive. But the real star of the proceedings is Washington, whose Macrinus is a deliciously malevolent manipulator. It’s a wildly extravagant performance, but its flamboyance makes him the Phoenix of the sequel.
By contrast Quinn and Hechinger do standard-issue swishing shtick as Geta and Caracalla, who in actuality ruled jointly, and with mutual hatred, only briefly in 211, though the latter has fun with the monkey business. Of the others in the large cast, Tim McInnerny is noteworthy as a scheming senator, even as Derek Jacobi, like Nielsen one of the few returnees from the previous movie, is virtually anonymous as another. Nielsen plays the sorrowing mother and concerned wife decently but makes less of an impression than one might expect. That criticism doesn’t apply to Matt Lucas, in his small role as the Colosseum event announcer.
With “Gladiator II” Scott strives mightily to recapture the magic that the 2000 movie created for so many people, but falls short, despite one spectacular performance.
Incidentally, the movie ends on a triumphantly hopeful note that, in view of the actual history, is utterly bonkers. The emperor who came to the throne after Caracalla (and his assassin) was Elagabalus, who was truly exceptional in his supposed depravity. Yet he’s never been the subject of a film. Now there’s somebody an adventurous filmmaker might take on, though the result might rival Tinto Brass’s notorious “Caligula.”