Paul Mescal – Rating Frames

Gladiator II preview screening provided by Paramount Pictures

Some might say that retracing your steps is a copout, a way of looking back rather than forward. It’s why a film like Blade Runner 2049 (2017) is just as revered as the original, because it went with a new direction courtesy of Denis Villeneuve while remaining faithful to the ethos of the original film. But in the same way that JJ Abrams treaded old ground while elevating the look and feel of an iconic IP with Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015), so too does Ridley Scott in Gladiator II (2024), his sequel to his critically acclaimed Gladiator (2000).

Gladiator stood out for many reasons, not least because it won Russell Crowe a rightful acting Oscar, but it also represented the merging of the old with the new, practicality with increased digitisation. It paved the way for films like Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy and Gore Verbinski’s Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, films that we now look back on with reverence because of how they combined scale (in setting, in action etc.) with those close, intimate moments of characterisation and the human condition.

Gladiator II doesn’t stray too far from the path of the original film, going so far as to retain the meagre visual effects, but it speaks to an era of filmmaking that caught audiences by surprise for all the right reasons.

Scott once again transports audiences back in time to arena battles, slave trading and overly pompous rulers. There’s no Maximus anymore but his presence is still felt. It’s Lucius (Paul Mescal), however, who, after attempting to defend his home in Numidia before it’s besieged by Roman battle ships, finds himself back in Rome as a captive years after fleeing from those who would have seen him killed.

Denzel Washington as Macrinus in *Gladiator II*.

Lucius, like Crowe’s Maximus but via different circumstances, is forced to reconcile with his destiny to restore order back to a Rome that’s being ruled by two incompetent emperors. It takes some time to get to that point though as he’s put through his paces in a brutal bout with enraged CGI baboons, impressing a slave trader in Macrinus (Denzel Washington) who buys him for his prospects in the gladiator arena.

If that all sounds familiar it’s because Scott has repurposed the plot of the original film and doubled down on everything from flashier set pieces to a wider array of production elements and even more CGI. There’s a great deal of fan service in this film in the same way that the aforementioned The Force Awakens or even Alien: Romulus (2024) cater to returning audiences.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with this approach, especially when an actor like Washington revels in his snakey, almost Baelish-Game-of-Thrones-esque approach to proceedings while delivering lines like Robert McCall if he lived hundreds of years ago (“gimme the bow”) — you just can’t quite read him. Even more than that, this genre of filmmaking is Scott’s bread and butter to the point where, regardless of its historical inaccuracies (sharks in the Colosseum anyone?), it never feels like he’s trying to outdo his past film, but give you more of the same.

Paul Mescal as Lucius and Pedro Pascal as Marcus Acacius in *Gladiator II*.

The biggest fault in a film about a man who’s lost it all and is coming back from the brink is that you need to be able to buy into his cause and feel his emptiness. While Mescal has cashed in some really soul-tugging performances like in Aftersun (2022) or All of Us Strangers (2023) he doesn’t command the screen with the same gravitas that Crowe did. It helped that in the original, Joaquin Phoenix delivered just as compelling a performance as Commodus and was given ample screen time to have you loathe him just as much as Maximus did.

This time around, you have whiny emperors, a slowly unraveling Macrinus, and a misunderstood General in Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal). In this way, Lucius’ battle is spread across characters who are also in one way or another, battling each other. As a result, the stakes don’t feel nearly as big as the scale of the rest of the film, as great as it is to see these various storylines and plot lines interconnect and clash.

There’s a lot going on this time around whereas the screenwriters of the original, (David Franzoni, John Logan, and William Nicholson) spent more time exploring who Maximus was and giving him that more refined arc that makes him so iconic to this day. The same can’t be said for David Scarpa’s script as it does lack the deeper exploration of character needed to get you that aforementioned buy-in. This is a Ridley Scott film, however, and what’s never lacking is a memorable time or several key memorable moments; it’s all the same at the end of the day, so there’s no need for another rhetorical “are you not entertained”, it’s enough for Scott to leave you entertained.

Gladiator II opens nationally from the 14th of November.

A modern dance film to remember, with a more emotive story than expected, Carmen (2022) is an evocative and thrilling experience that has peaks as high as you’ll find this year. An adaptation in name alone, choreographer and first-time feature filmmaker Benjamin Millepied has crafted, alongside a terrific collection of talent in front of and behind the camera, a complete reimagining of the Carmen opera. The film is vibrant and alive, and while the script is slight and only gestures mildly at its location and setting as a Mexico-American border romance, it still moves with a rapturous passion.

At the heart of the story is Carmen, played with fierce precision by emerging star Melissa Barrera, escaping across the border after the murder of her mother Zilah (flamenco dancer Marina Tamayo with one of the best opening scenes of the year). On the other side, we have Paul Mescal, a recently returning war vet Aiden, who is withholding his PTSD from those around him. On top of this, due to the struggling financial situation of the area, Aiden is forced to volunteer as a border patrol officer (the only real work in town), which pulls him into the path of Carmen.

Paul Mescal and Melissa Barrera in *Carmen*.

It would be easy to reduce this film to a tragic love story between a Mexican immigrant and a border patrol officer, but that would discredit all of the work being done by screenwriters Lisa Loomer, Loïc Barrere, and Alexander Dinelaris to give these characters an agency and poignancy that surpasses these easy conventions.

What allows a dance-focused film to thrive as a theatrical experience is the incredible work of the great composer Nicolas Brittel. Brittell’s choral and string focused score is a work of magic, showing the extraordinary composer’s range while still driven by a focus on uplifting the emotion and narrative. Whether on Succession or his work with Barry Jenkins – his work on The Underground Railroad (2021) and If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) ought to be the stuff of legend – Britell’s compositions never overwhelm the narrative as they appear to come from the very core of the character’s beings. It is a shame a lot of his best work is on TV (Succession, The Underground Railroad, Andor), as it is a privilege to hear his work in a cinema.

Millepied and veteran cinematographer Jörg Widmer both understand the power of movement on screen, especially when shown in deep contrast by a solemn stillness. An emotive dance performance is often followed by an extended stationary shot centring an isolated performer in a chair or in isolation in some form. Wielding a combination of natural and neon lighting, Carmen operates well in both static frame and in movement, constantly fighting a balance between the two poles.

When the film is at its best, all of the film’s elements come together to make something magical. The dancers alongside Barrera, Mescal’s war-torn performance, Widmer’s camera, Millepied’s gorgeous choreography, and Brittell’s score brings the whole film to life, transcending certain moments into awe-inspiring sequences. While it is his first time behind the camera for a feature film, Millepied has a clear knowledge of how these different elements, when operated by some of the best in the industry, can overwhelm an audience.

Bob Fosse paved the way for undeniable dance choreographers leaving their mark on cinema with style and personality, and while Carmen is no Cabaret (1972) or All That Jazz (1979), Millepied has a clear understanding of the energy an expressive, well filmed dance number can give an audience.

The lowest point of the film is certainly the stretch in the final hour without any large dance sequence, a standard for dance-forward films of this ilk. Millepied is aware of this lull, however, with two eruptive dance moments in the club and an underground fight ring that holds nothing back. The fight scene in particular sneaks out of the shadows, building naturally in a thrilling way. Focusing the scene on hip-hop legend The D.O.C and his original song ‘Pelea’ heightens the moment and makes for a terrific finale. Collaborating with Brittel on the song brings to mind Pusha T’s incredible Succession theme remix with its mix of modern Hip Hop and the composer’s cinematic style.

There is power in an artist, uncertain if an opportunity like this will arise again, leaving it all on the floor. This is why the best debut albums are always so powerful. And while this is certainly the case here with Carmen, what makes it unique is how collaborator-focused Millepied’s film is. In a tour de force score from Brittell, a balletic work behind the camera from Widmer and Australian Steadicam operator Andrew ‘AJ’ Johnson, and a potent ensemble highlighted by Barrera and Mescal, Millepied has made an intoxicating debut to remember.

Carmen is in select theatres now.

Tag: Paul Mescal

Gladiator II Continues the Original Story with Bigger, Wilder Action

Carmen Defies Expectation