Hollywood sequels are rarely graceful affairs, and in many cases, they serve more as cash cows than art. The very announcement of a sequel to Gladiator—a film hailed as a modern epic in 2000—feels, on its face, like a reckless endeavor. The original was a self-contained story, anchored by Russell Crowe’s Oscar-winning performance as the vengeful Roman general Maximus. His arc was complete, his death was poetic, and his legacy cemented. So what is there left to say? If you were hoping for a quiet contemplation of Rome’s ruin, a reflective historical drama bathed in subtlety, Gladiator II is not the film Ridley Scott has crafted. Instead, what he offers is something that promises to be larger, more chaotic, and undeniably wild.
At 86 years old, Scott has no time for hesitation, and the scale of this sequel speaks to a filmmaker unafraid to push his own boundaries—even if it means occasionally spilling over into absurdity. There’s something brazen about this new film, an almost gleeful disregard for restraint, which is fitting for a story that dives back into the blood-soaked arena of ancient Rome. When we first heard about the project, it was difficult to know whether to expect more of the same from Scott or something entirely different. The answer, as it turns out, is a little bit of both. With Gladiator II, Scott returns to the familiar terrain of brutal combat and power-hungry emperors, but this time, he has doubled down on the spectacle.
And yes, that means baboons—CGI-enhanced and furious—charging on all fours with short stilts beneath their armpits, tearing through the arena like something out of a fever dream. It means a rhinoceros storming through the Colosseum, naval battles staged in the flooded pit, and sharks circling the waters. It’s the kind of film where you almost expect to see a lion in a chariot. If Scott’s return to Rome is anything, it’s excessive in the most unabashed way possible.
Twenty years later, a new gladiator rises
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The heart of Gladiator II—at least as much as there can be one in such a spectacle—is Lucius, the boy who idolized Maximus in the first film. Now played by Paul Mescal, Lucius has grown into a man, and he’s carrying the weight of Maximus’s legacy on his shoulders, whether he wants it or not. The sequel takes place two decades after the events of Gladiator, and Rome is no less corrupt, no less dangerous. Lucius, now an exile, finds himself caught in the political and military upheavals that have come to define the empire. He is a man shaped by his past, haunted by his memories of Maximus, and struggling to define his own identity in a world that continues to crumble around him.
In a move that feels both clever and necessary, Scott has chosen to make Lucius’s journey a mirror image of Maximus’s—except inverted. Whereas Maximus was a Roman general who found himself betrayed and enslaved, Lucius begins the story on the outside. He’s spent years in North Africa, far from the influence of Rome, and when we first meet him, he’s aligned himself with a barbarian force fighting against the empire. The role reversal is key here, and it allows Gladiator II to explore some of the same themes as the original—vengeance, honor, betrayal—but from a fresh angle. Lucius’s story is not about reclaiming a lost honor but about navigating a complex, violent world that no longer values it.
Paul Mescal, best known for his emotionally introspective roles in Normal People and Aftersun, brings a new kind of energy to the franchise. He is not Crowe’s Maximus. He doesn’t have that same physicality or brute force charisma, but his quiet intensity works well for a character who is more contemplative, more conflicted. Lucius is not a warrior born; he is a man who becomes one out of necessity. There’s a vulnerability to him, particularly in his early scenes, that Mescal conveys with understated grace. This isn’t the kind of performance that demands attention in the way Crowe’s did, but it doesn’t need to be. Lucius is a different kind of gladiator—a man shaped by trauma, not by glory.
That said, don’t expect the film to wallow in introspection for long. Gladiator II is still very much an action epic, and the Colosseum is once again the stage for some of the most outrageous and visceral sequences we’ve seen in recent cinema. This is a film that begins with a 14-minute action sequence, as the Roman fleet—led by Pedro Pascal’s Marcus Acacius—invades Numidia, Lucius’s adopted home. Pascal’s Acacius is a fascinating character in his own right, a general who trained under Maximus but now stands on the opposite side of Lucius. There’s an undercurrent of respect between the two men, but also a deep resentment. Acacius is every bit the calculating Roman general, brutal in his tactics, but Pascal brings a certain charm to the role that makes him a compelling foil for Lucius.
The battle for Numidia sets the tone for the rest of the film. It’s raw, chaotic, and unflinchingly violent—exactly what you’d expect from a Gladiator sequel. Scott’s knack for staging large-scale action sequences is on full display here, and the scope of the carnage feels even larger than in the original. But it’s not just the size of the battles that makes them stand out; it’s the details. Scott takes pleasure in the grotesque, and there’s an almost macabre delight in the way he lingers on the brutality of the arena. The introduction of baboons into the gladiatorial combat is absurd on its face, but there’s a method to the madness. These aren’t just CGI animals thrown in for the sake of spectacle. Scott, ever the perfectionist, transformed 12 stuntmen into these creatures, adding a layer of physicality to the chaos.
“The baboons were mean, muscular, real tough guys,” Scott grins in one of his interviews on set, clearly relishing the absurdity. “And I put them on short stilts so they could crawl on all fours. Then I drew monkey faces on them.” It’s a bizarre image—one that speaks to Scott’s refusal to settle for the ordinary. Every element of Gladiator II is cranked up to the extreme, whether it’s the animals in the arena or the ships in the flooded Colosseum, where the sharks make their appearance. Nothing is too wild, too over-the-top, for this version of Rome.
The mad emperors and their court of chaos
But a Gladiator film wouldn’t be complete without a few mad emperors. Enter Fred Hechinger and Joseph Quinn as Caracalla and Geta, twin rulers who make Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus look restrained by comparison. These two are as unhinged as they come, and their rule is one of pure chaos. Scott doesn’t hold back in depicting their excesses, and both Hechinger and Quinn lean into the madness of their characters with a gleeful abandon. Quinn, in particular, delivers a performance that is both terrifying and absurd, capturing the sheer unpredictability of a man born into power without any sense of responsibility.
Their dynamic with Connie Nielsen’s Lucilla, one of the few returning cast members from the original, adds another layer of tension to the film. Lucilla, now 20 years older and weary from the constant power struggles of Rome, has been reduced to a pawn in their games. She’s a symbol of legitimacy, a prisoner more in spirit than in body, and Nielsen’s performance is one of quiet strength. She’s seen too much, survived too much, to be easily broken, but there’s a sadness to her that hangs over her scenes with Lucius. The years have not been kind to her, and Nielsen does an excellent job of conveying that weight without ever descending into melodrama.
It’s Denzel Washington, however, who provides one of the most memorable characters in Gladiator II. As Macrinus, a former gladiator turned arms dealer, Washington brings a dangerous charisma to the screen. His character is one of those rare figures in a Scott film who seems to exist outside the rules of the world around him. Macrinus isn’t bound by loyalty or honor; he’s driven purely by survival, and Washington plays him with an understated menace. He’s not a villain in the traditional sense, but he’s certainly no hero. His relationship with Lucius is complicated—Macrinus may respect him, but he’s not above using him for his own ends. There’s a subtle dance between the two characters, and Washington’s performance elevates what could have been a straightforward antagonist role into something far more nuanced.
A gladiator for a new generation
For all its excesses, Gladiator II still finds moments of introspection, especially in Lucius’s arc. His journey is not one of vengeance, like Maximus’s, but of self-discovery. He’s a man torn between two worlds—Rome, the empire of his birth, and the barbarians, who have become his family. Mescal’s performance captures that internal conflict beautifully, even as he’s thrust into increasingly absurd situations. There’s a scene late in the film where Lucius, fresh from yet another brutal Colosseum battle, finally confronts his mother. It’s a quiet moment, in a film that doesn’t often allow for them, but it speaks volumes about the emotional core of the story. Lucius isn’t fighting for Rome, or even for glory—he’s fighting to make sense of the legacy he’s inherited.
Scott’s decision to keep Maximus out of the film, save for a few haunting memories, is a smart one. Crowe’s absence looms large, but it never overshadows the story that Gladiator II is trying to tell. This is Lucius’s story, and while the echoes of Maximus are everywhere, Scott wisely lets Mescal carve out his own space in the narrative. The film doesn’t shy away from its predecessor’s legacy, but it also doesn’t feel shackled to it.
The question remains, though: will Gladiator II live up to the mythos of its predecessor? That’s a question only audiences can answer. What’s clear is that Scott has crafted a film that, like its lead character, is unafraid to defy expectations. It’s not a quiet meditation on empire or legacy—it’s a film that wears its heart on its sleeve, full of spectacle, madness, and moments of raw emotion. Whether that’s enough to secure its place in cinematic history remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: it’s a film that will demand attention, for better or for worse.
Gladiator II is less about recapturing the magic of the original and more about embracing the chaos that defines the world of ancient Rome. Ridley Scott, ever the rebel, has crafted a film that is as unruly as the empire it depicts. Whether it’s the outrageous battles or the quieter moments of character reflection, Gladiator II is a spectacle in every sense of the word—a wild, audacious return to the Colosseum that refuses to play by the rules. And perhaps that’s exactly what a sequel to Gladiator should be.
