Ridley Scott Strikes Again -- Gladiator II Review
(Originally Published 11/23/2024)
Murder is a universal language, an iced-out Denzel barfs to our C-list hero. But anyone with a passing interest in movies knows Ridley Scott hasn’t been fluent in such dialect since Blade Runner came with voice-over.
The original Gladiator—a film I’ve seen a handful of times but struggle to remember—feels like an odd IP to resurrect. Thankfully, the crummy animated opening credits provide a refresher. Back when Best Picture winners were also pop hits, a roaring Russell Crowe and a freaky Joaquin Phoenix could sell tickets with the marketability of a Barbie doll or Ninja Turtle. Now, in the year of our Lord 2024, Scott dredges up his overrated awards darling for a shot at career insurance after back-to-back-to-back flops.
Ridley Scott hasn’t made an interesting film since 2013’s The Counselor, nor a great one since Blade Runner. Even The Counselor, penned by our most recently anointed American auteur Cormac McCarthy (recent headlines aside), is nearly knee-capped by Scott’s hackneyed fragrance ad aesthetic.
His visual panache has been stuck on the level of expensive television. Those animated credits that flow through history wish to promise epicness of all brands and flavors. But for all the money hurled upon screen, nothing ever feels big.
Every character holds the depth of a fandom Wikipedia biography entry. They’re archetypes, lazily shoved into dramatic quarrels. Denzel Washinton’s Macrinus may be the story’s only interesting element, but he’d be the worst part of any great movie. It’s a straight-to-DVD Disney sequel thrown in theaters and marketed toward adults.
I’d gladly defend Ridley Scott against the online mobs nitpicking Gladiator II’s historical leniencies (just read a history book, dorks). Still, it’s hard not to sympathize when the film plays like a glorified museum movie. It’s t
he first film designed for lazy high school history teachers to kill time.
At the very least, you’d hope for some commitment to the myth-making, like Zack Snyder’s 300, which remains pop cinema’s blueprint for history reimagined as legend. Dismiss Snyder’s Frank Miller fever dream as teenage testosterone porn if you will, but is so-called “distinguished” cinema really just two and a half hours of every shade of brown imaginable? Even DreamWorks’ The Prince of Egypt stands as a more mature and evocative exploration of humanistic myth.
Revered director Whit Stillman referred to Gladiator II on Twitter as “violence porn”—though I don’t believe he’s actually seen it. This assessment just isn’t true. Because say what you will about that medium, at least porn is exciting
Grade: C-