GLADIATOR II ★★★
(M) 150 minutes
When a film is a hit on the scale of Ridley Scott’s Gladiator in 2000, a sequel is usually in the pipeline before long. The difficulty is that Gladiator had a fairly definite ending, with the hero Maximus Decimus Meridius (Russell Crowe) perishing in the Roman arena after surviving many rounds of bloody combat.
Paul Mescal as Lucius, son of Russell Crowe’s Maximus, in Gladiator II.
Over the years, there’s reportedly been talk about continuing the story in a range of ways, including following Maximus into the afterlife. But at the age of 87, Scott has finally picked a road that will lead him back to Rome. Scripted by his regular collaborator David Scarpa, Gladiator II jumps forward a generation to 200AD to chronicle the exploits of Maximus’ exiled son Lucius (Paul Mescal), introduced as a farmer living quietly in northern Africa.
A rising star best-known from arthouse films such as Aftersun, Mescal wisely doesn’t try to emulate Crowe’s swagger: he retains an agreeably stoic, undemonstrative manner, as if he didn’t see himself as anything special. Still, Lucius has inherited his father’s warrior prowess, as we discover when he’s captured by the Romans and forced to fight in the arena, yearning all the while to avenge the death of his wife (Yuval Gonen).
Parallel to this is a struggle unfolding in the shadows over the future of Rome, in which a central role is played by Lucius’ scheming mentor Macrinus (Denzel Washington), a former slave with ambitions to rise all the way to the top.
Fred Hechinger (left) as Emperor Caracalla, Pedro Pascal as General Acacius and Joseph Quinn as Emperor Geta in Gladiator II.
Other key figures include a pair of youthfully seedy emperors (Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger), a ruthless yet well-meaning general (Pedro Pascal), who’s plotting to overthrow them, and Lucius’ aristocratic mother (Connie Nielsen, one of the only cast members returning from the first film), who takes a while to recognise her son.
Running through the script is a debate about the true nature of the Roman Empire, which at a pinch might be taken as an allegory for America in the present: can it be restored to its former glory or was this glory a fiction all along?