Ridley Scott’s Gladiator II arrives nearly a quarter-century after its predecessor, a film that reshaped the historical epic for the modern era. But where the original crackled with the righteous fury of Russell Crowe’s Maximus Decimus Meridius, the sequel trades its hero’s visceral intensity for a bloated exercise in franchise extension. Though the film offers fleeting glimpses of Scott’s directorial prowess, it ultimately falters under the weight of its sprawling narrative, rehashed plot beats, and a surprising lack of emotional heft.
Set a generation after Maximus’ death, Gladiator II shifts its focus to Lucius (Paul Mescal), the nephew of the villainous Commodus and grandson of Marcus Aurelius. The movie strangely hides this fact for over an hour even though the marketing for the film gives it away. Exiled to North Africa, Lucius has renounced his imperial roots to live as a humble farmer. That idyll is shattered when Roman forces invade, slaughter his wife, and enslave him—a grim echo of Maximus’ own fate. From here, Lucius is thrust into a familiar journey: from the sands of the Colosseum to the heart of Rome’s corrupt politics, where he must confront his past and challenge the tyranny of the co-emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger).
Scott, at 86, remains a master of grandiose visuals. The film opens with a sea invasion that dazzles with scale but lacks the grit and tension of Gladiator’s legendary Germanic forest battle. Later, the Colosseum sequences—featuring a mock naval battle complete with sharks and a rhinoceros-mounted gladiator—aim for spectacle but often stumble into absurdity. While Scott’s penchant for excess sometimes entertains, the film struggles to justify its indulgences, especially when weighed against a script that seems content to recycle rather than innovate.
The heart of Gladiator II—and its greatest weakness—is Lucius. Mescal is a gifted actor, but he’s burdened with a character who exists more as a shadow of Maximus than a fully realized hero. His brooding feels performative, his arc predictable, and his motivations underexplored. Even in the film’s most rousing moments, Lucius never captures the audience’s imagination in the way Maximus did. His noble adversary, General Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal), fares no better; while Pascal brings gravitas to the role, the script reduces him to a cardboard cutout of virtue, a foil lacking complexity or genuine conflict.
The one bright spot is Denzel Washington as Macrinus, a former enslaved man turned scheming courtier. Washington’s charisma and sly delivery elevate every scene he’s in, bringing an edge of unpredictability to an otherwise plodding narrative. Whether mentoring Lucius or manipulating his imperial overlords, Washington commands attention, injecting much-needed vitality into the film’s middle act. His quip—“That’s politicssss”—draws laughter and awe in equal measure, a testament to his ability to make even the most banal lines sing.
Unfortunately, Washington’s brilliance is an outlier in a cast struggling against the film’s heavy-handed themes and melodramatic plotting. The co-emperors, Geta and Caracalla, are caricatures of decadence—pasty, petulant, and cartoonishly evil. One’s habit of parading around with a monkey on his shoulder encapsulates the film’s tonal dissonance, oscillating between grim seriousness and campy excess.
Where Gladiator balanced its spectacle with a clear moral center, Gladiator II feels thematically muddled. It gestures at big ideas—power, legacy, the decline of empires—but fails to say anything meaningful. The original’s “Are you not entertained?” resonated as both a critique of bloodthirsty audiences and a rallying cry for justice. Here, the spectacle is purely surface-level, devoid of the soul that made its predecessor so memorable.
Ultimately, Gladiator II exemplifies the pitfalls of legacy sequels. It seeks to capitalize on nostalgia without capturing the spirit of what made the original special. While Scott’s craftsmanship and Washington’s performance provide fleeting moments of brilliance, the film’s reliance on spectacle and shallow storytelling leave it feeling hollow. The Colosseum may be bigger, the stakes higher, and the visuals more bombastic, but the result is a pale imitation of its forebear. The end makes a plea for peace that falls completely flat after so much bloodshed.
Are we not entertained? Not nearly enough.
2/5
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