As he enters his 88th year, Ridley Scott seems to be having more fun than ever. Early on in Gladiator II, for example, during Paul Mescal’s first big showcase scene as ripped fighter Lucius Verus, Sir Ridley throws a whole troop of ravenous, screeching baboons into the arena to attack Lucius and his fellow gladiators. These demented primates look more like evil little CGI aliens than actual monkeys, but this startling Attack Of The Wild Baboons is just the amuse-bouche for the lavish menu of no-holds-barred, giddily entertaining set-pieces to come. One brilliantly executed fight scene involves a giant marauding rhino, and another somehow features… sharks. Yes, there’s a bunch of the blood-thirsty beasts merrily swimming around in the arena during a re-creation of a sea battle, which will have you Googling “Did they really flood the Colosseum?”
Historically accurate or not, the sight of marine predators in this film — the long-awaited sequel to Scott’s iconic, Russell Crowe-starring, swords-and-sandals 2000 original — epitomises the emphasis here on the brutal decadence of the time. There are copious amounts of blood and gore throughout: gruesome decapitations, throat-slashings, and limbs lopped off left, right and centre. One such moment of blood-spurting violence is so borderline comical, you half expect the victim to borrow the line from the Black Knight in Monty Python And The Holy Grail: “’Tis but a scratch.”
This one feels less concerned with its own epic-ness and a tad more proudly baroque
In the middle of all this bloody madness is Paul Mescal’s Lucius: the strong, still centre of the movie, around whom all hell is frequently let loose. Mescal effortlessly shifts into leading-man territory with this performance, imbuing the character with an innate dignity and steely determination as he rises to gladiatorial fame, although he isn’t above biting a chunk out of a baboon if need be. Like Crowe’s Maximus in the original film, Lucius doesn’t have much choice about becoming a gladiator; he’s bought by former slave-turned-ruthless Roman power-broker Macrinus (Denzel Washington), who’s keen to turn him into the star of his stable of beefy human fighting machines. Washington practically steals the whole film, by the way, palpably revelling in the chance to let rip as a smug, self-satisfied schemer of the highest order. Some of his line-readings are pure camp.
The outstanding cast also features Connie Nielsen as Lucilla, the major returnee from the first movie, who hovers over proceedings in quietly imperious style, and Pedro Pascal, as charismatic as ever, playing Marcus Acacius, the Roman general responsible for destroying Lucius’ home and family. So while Lucius is grappling with monkeys, sharks and occasionally some actual human fighters, too, he also has a vengeful eye on Marcus. The subsequent plot machinations rely on some pretty convenient coincidences, and Lucius’ rise is inevitably formulaic, but it doesn’t really matter because the scenes of mind-boggling spectacle are anything but.
Bankrolling that spectacle are the new joint Roman Emperors, young-ish twins Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger). Not only do they manage to rival Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus from the original Gladiator in terms of crazed volatility, they also have a distinct whiff of the ultimate mad emperor Caligula about them. Think John Hurt’s pasty-faced look as Caligula in ’70s TV classic I, Claudius and Malcolm McDowell’s version of the same historically bonkers figure in the notorious 1979 film Caligula. There’s even a hilarious counterpart to Caligula’s infamous beloved pet horse, in the form of Caracalla’s pet capuchin monkey, perched on his shoulder, who arguably has the film’s most startling character arc.
And when Matt Lucas pops up as the equivalent of a stadium announcer at a football match, bellowing brilliantly while the gladiators gather in the Colosseum, you know this isn’t a movie that’s taking itself too seriously. That’s not to say this very belated sequel comes across as ‘Carry On Gladiator’. It is in many ways as compelling and expertly staged as the first Gladiator, but this one feels less concerned with its own epic-ness and a tad more proudly baroque. There’s a fearlessness to its big swings that has to be applauded. It’s Ridley Scott Unleashed, and we’re here for it.
