Tapping into just the kind of bloodlust that thrills in ancient Rome, Ridley Scott’s violent, spectacular sequel so resembles the original it could be a remake
“Are you not entertained?” bellowed Russell Crowe over the bodies of half a dozen or so armoured combatants in the original Gladiator. It’s a line etched in our collective memory. It also sums up Ridley Scott’s belligerent and punchy directorial approach to this brawny, businesslike sequel. Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since the first film scooped five Oscars in 2001 (including best picture and best actor for Crowe), but what’s notable is how little has changed. Admittedly there’s a splatter of fresh blood. Gladiator II passes the tunic and battle sandals to Paul Mescal, as enslaved but noble warrior Lucius. It sees Denzel Washington sink his teeth into a peach of a role as the slippery, ambitious master of gladiators, Macrinus, and ramps up the spectacle (and, it has to be said, the silliness) with sharks in the Colosseum, an attack rhino and a terrifying CGI hell-creature that seems to be part shaved baboon, part demon. Yes, we are entertained, how could we not be? But, sharks and rhino aside, fresh ideas are conspicuously missing. This sequel is so derivative of its predecessor, it’s practically a remake.
This is evident from the outset. Gladiator and Gladiator II both open with a shot of a manly hand fondling grain. In the first movie it’s the Malickian image of Crowe’s meaty paw running through a field of golden wheat; in the second, it’s Mescal pensively toying with some chicken feed. The symbolism is clear: they might be fearsome soldiers, but these are solid, simple men, anchored to the earth. The two share more than a fondness for cereal crops: both suffer from a near identical double-whammy of inciting incidents early on. Both lose loved ones, and find themselves enslaved by the Roman empire, subsequently channelling their grief and rage into gladiatorial combat. They even share a trademark move: a scissoring two-sword decapitation that serves as an emphatic final word in most disagreements.
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