Reviews have been mixed on Ridley Scott’s latest big screen production, Gladiator II, with Denzel Washington being the only cast member consistently receiving praise, while Paul Mescal’s Lucius has been labelled everything from a “worthy successor” to a “millennial knockoff” of Russel Crowe’s Maximus. The plot line has managed to draw more ire, with many labelling it a recycling of its predecessor’s story. This begs the question, why did it need to be made?
In comparison to other mediums, we are acutely resistant to cinematic reboots and our focus on nostalgic film and TV. Theatre is endlessly remade and restaged with slight twists in concept, set design and the casting of big name actors. Similarly, multiple TV shows have been rebooted in some form, either building them up to cinematic scale, or restarting them in a modern era, such as Hawaii Five-O or Magnum PI.
So, what differs when it comes to film? With theatre specifically, there’s a sense of exclusivity and temporality that does not exist in movies, as the latter are almost instantly uploaded to streaming services.
By that same token, the reproduction of media seems limited to acting. While we’re used to different actors playing Othello, it would be frowned upon for someone like Roald Dahl to rewrite the famous tragedy in his own words, or for Green Day to record the whole of Nevermind with their style of instrumentation and vocals. So why has nostalgia become so prevalent and such a common phenomenon on our screens?
To answer this, it is crucial to understand the benefits of reboots for studios. They have an attached audience (or, better, a devoted fanbase), an existing world and a reputation to draw actors and viewers. Furthermore, reboots, remakes, and sequels prey on an innate sense of nostalgia that is addictive for viewers. Disney is essentially fuelling itself with this nostalgia, as it remakes animated classics into live action, modern versions. Lilo and Stitch will be the next to receive this treatment, which will, ironically, feature a computer-generated protagonist. And antagonist, come to think of it…
Similarly, Dreamworks have recently released the trailer for their How to Train Your Dragon live action remake, which also features a computer-generated protagonist (secondary if we’re being pedantic). This approach to reigniting interest within a franchise creates a certain artifice and lack of charm to live action remakes. By recreating a nostalgic film which will be shown in the cinema for the new generation, we face the threat of the original picture being forsaken.
A further pitfall of this nostalgic approach is that viewers will have a requirement for differences from the original, but simultaneously want the remake to also be mostly the same. For example, Star Wars: The Force Awakens had many of the hallmarks of Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope, from the opening desert planet visual to the bar scene, but it also had enough difference in its protagonists to be seen as fresh and original. This can, however, be too much for audiences.
Take Mescal’s Lucius: it is a struggle to see how fair it is to criticise the film for being too similar to its predecessor, whilst simultaneously complaining about the protagonist’s difference from the first film’s leading man, Maximus. This is more redundant when considering – without spoiling the events of Gladiator II – that Lucius struggles with his role as a leader and successor to power.
For me, this makes Mescal’s softer-spoken style feel more faithful to the character. The meta-irony of this article is that I am one of many discussing this topic. There is a consistent and repetitive discussion on the need for reboots and nostalgia culture for the benefits that affect consumers and the industry as a whole. Yet, this discourse seems to disregard a key reason for the sudden explosion of reboots and remakes. That being, despite a suggested lack of demand, they still do well at the box office.
As consumers, we tend to place the blame elsewhere: studios, actors, directors, VFX artists, even influencers. Everyone is to blame for the sudden death of creativity and the financial success of mediocrity. Therefore, it should be seen as a positive to encourage cinemagoers to see the latest independent films, or an up-and-coming director’s new picture instead. Yet, this is often considered ‘cinematic snobbery’, with the idea of watching something less mainstream being seen as pretentious and arrogant. So, we are left with either sequels, remakes, or reboots.
On that note, as sequels go, Gladiator II is not awful, it’s actually pretty decent. It combines stunning visuals with a strong set of performances that expand on the politics and philosophies of the original. Hollywood will keep churning out nostalgia-based media, because they keep succeeding, so we should celebrate the good where we can.
