I Am Not Entertained

'Gladiator II' is the latest unbearably unimaginative legacy sequel. Does it have to be this way?

In an alternate universe, here’s what might have happened in Gladiator II:

The film picks up in the afterlife, where Russell Crowe’s Maximus embarks on an odyssey to find his wife and son; Maximus is resurrected in the body of a dying Christian in Lyons; he faces off with Commodus’ nephew Lucius, who has become Rome’s new malevolent Emperor; Maximus is cursed to live forever, and winds up fighting in the most prominent wars of the future; and he concludes the film working at the Pentagon in 2000s America, struggling with his inner violence and the loss of his family.  

That version of Gladiator II was written by Nick Cave in the mid-aughts. And given that my quick recap hardly does justice to how trippy and audacious it would have been, it’s not surprising that Paramount Pictures didn’t take a chance on it. Nor is it surprising that what we wound up with instead is the most dull, phoned-in (yes, totally bogus) possible Gladiator sequel. 

I’ve tried to keep this newsletter focused on films and filmmakers that are, at a bare minimum, working in good faith — earnestly and passionately pursuing something personal and interesting. But today I have to vent about a few films that are not. I’m thinking of the spate of legacy sequels that have emerged this year. In addition to Gladiator II, there’s been Twisters and Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. 

Of course, legacy sequels are nothing new. Hollywood has been recycling and expanding past hits for about as long as it’s been making movies. Some of these efforts have been good, more have been bad. But with the appeal of superhero films waning, and also coming off the wild success of Top Gun: Maverick and Avatar: The Way of Water, my suspicion is that these things are on the rise right now. (And indeed, next year, there will be Freakier Friday, Karate Kid: Legends, and, best of all, The Passion of the Christ: Resurrection.)

Which is theoretically fine. I’d much rather see a sequel to an old movie I like than a new Marvel film. Really, reviving old films that were initially made to stand alone should offer freedom and possibility. You’ve got the vague contours of a world (gladiators! twisters!), and… that’s it. There are no plot strands you have to tie up, no characters you have to include. You can theoretically do whatever you want. And no matter what you do, the IP will just about guarantee you make lots of money.

And yet, if there’s one thing that ties all of these films together it’s how safe and constrained they feel. These movies are technically sequels, but they might as well be remakes. Their fidelity to the original films is all-encompassing. They borrow plot arcs, character dynamics, signature visual motifs, and settings. When they do switch up variables and gesture at modernizing these stories, they do it with an AI-level of imagination. Ultimately, they discard any trace of soul that the originals contained. (And don’t get me started on the CGI.)

Gladiator II is the worst offender on this front. Paul Mescal plays Lucius, the rightful king of Rome, who, for his safety, was sent away by his mother after Commodus and Maximus killed each other. He rises up as the general of a Northern African nation. And when he’s defeated by the Roman army (which also, of course, kills his love), he’s taken prisoner and sold off as a gladiator. Sound familiar? Well, this time around there are two crazy Roman emperors, not one. See, different!   

Maybe this is all to be expected, and I’m a fool to hope for a legacy sequel to be enjoyable. I think, though, the reason these films in particular have me bent out of shape is that they tease a past where blockbusters were fun. Twister was bonkers and horny. Beetlejuice was colorful and chaotic. Gladiator was thrilling and lived-in. I like movie stars and massive set pieces. It would be sick if we regularly had big pop movies that were well crafted and surprising — let alone ambitious and daring.

What’s also bothered me, though, has been the widespread eagerness to embrace these films. Often, it seems like critics are grading them on a charitable curve. And for the stars involved, there’s only upside. Twisters and Gladiator II have respectively vaulted Glen Powell and Paul Mescal firmly into the A-list. This past month, Mescal (who is fine) was on the cover of GQ and Denzel Washington (who was equally fine) was on the cover of Esquire. Despite giving one of the least remarkable performances of his career, Washington is getting Best Supporting Actor buzz. What?! 

I can’t help feeling like we’ve got this backwards — that when big stars and star directors make work that is this bland and uninspired, there should be just the teensiest bit of social shame. Not so much where anyone is feeling canceled, but enough that there’s some incentive for these people to pressure studios and producers into taking some chances. (In other words, make the safe feel unsafe.) I’ll take a big, fat mess any day over films this neat and formulaic. Maybe Nick Cave’s hallucinatory, time-spanning take on Gladiator is too much to ask for. But if you’re not going to make something so forcefully about death, at least make something with a little bit of life.  

After leaving Gladiator II, a friend and I shat on it for a while, and then we started talking about what we would’ve done if tasked with writing it. I’m curious, what would your version look like?