Are You Not Entertained? How to Ace an Unnecessary Sequel
Ah, sequels—the reaper lurking in the back of the theatre after every successful movie. In the last few years, two of my favorite films, Top Gun and Gladiator, both received sequels—sequels that I dreaded only to love as much as their originals (and maybe a little more). In an age of oftentimes botched sequels (*cough, Disney’s Star Wars trilogy, cough*) why do I like Top Gun: Maverick and Gladiator II? I turn to the films themselves for answers.
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
TGM proves that you don’t need the same director, and GII proves you don’t need the same star. But you do need to fulfill the promise the first film made to the audience you now have. TGM was made 36 years after Top Gun, and GII 24 years after Gladiator. We’re talking about a past era of the audience’s lives, and you don’t mess with nostalgia. That means familiar vibes, familiar music, familiar costumes and sets—you name it.
“Are you not entertained?”
But it’s also been decades. The tech has improved, and what you can do with filmmaking is insane now. You cannot make the same movie again. You have to level it up. Put us in the cockpit with the crushing G-forces. We had an ocean before? Give us mountains. An arena? Give us ancient naval warfare.
“Talk to me, Dad.”
We love a dead father haunting the narrative. In Top Gun, Mav was driven to fly because of his father, and so too is Rooster. (Not to mention the fraught father-son relationship Mav and Rooster have between them.) Then Lucius is out there walking in the very footsteps of his father, dead wife and all. This kind of cross-generational relationship is fantastic for sequels where a similar amount of time in real life has passed.
“This ring belonged to Maximus. Now I give it to you.”
But with old faces there should also be new ones. A sequel is a passing of a torch; the story belongs to both old AND new characters, not one or the other. Penny is a fantastic example of a character who is both; she’s name-dropped in Top Gun which makes her role as the primary love interest in TGM feel natural but also fresh. And in GII, General Acasius, although a new name and face, is connected to characters we know and love having served under Maximus and married to Lucilla.
“Don’t think, just do.”
Mav said, “If you think, you’re dead,” and while some thinking is good, he’s right about acting on instinct. If you’re going to make a sequel, what could naturally happen next? What seeds have been planted? I already mentioned Penny, but TGM does this in several other ways, too. What if the tech is catching up to pilots and the Navy doesn’t think it needs Mav anymore? Would Goose’s son follow in Mav’s footsteps and fly because of his dad? After Gladiator, what happens to Lucius, who is too young to be emperor, and the empire, which is headless? The right sequel is already there, waiting.
“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”
Revel in the ramifications of the first film. They are your best friends. Goose died while Mav was the pilot? What kind of relationship does that create between Mav and Rooster? Mav will try to protect Rooster, Rooster will take offence to his mother-henning and bingo, interpersonal conflict fit for the screen. Maximus kills one evil emperor? Come on, it’s Rome—two will take his place.
“Buzz the tower.”
Callbacks callbacks callbacks. The bread and butter of a commercial narrative, callbacks unite a script and a sequel with its prequel. You can recreate scenes like the Top Gun pilots playing sports on the beach or the gladiators’ first fight in the arena. You can repeat lines of dialogue that bring the audience closer because they know these words. In shots and quotes, there’s a lot of emotions and memories waiting to be echoed and evoked.
“...in this life or the next.”
Call back all you want, but when it comes to the sequel, you have to recognize how the story has changed. Gladiator was a story of revenge, and that’s where GII starts, but it’s not where it ends. Maximus said, “I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next,” but when Lucius echoes his father’s words, he also changes them: “I will never be your instrument, in this life or the next.” While Maximus had to achieve his vengeance, Lucius must prevent himself from being consumed by his. In TGM, it’s the same. Mav was a student at Top Gun, and while he’s back, this time around he’s a teacher. A sequel should continue a story’s growth and breathe new life into it, not beat a dead horse.
Were Top Gun: Maverick and Gladiator II necessary? Absolutely not. But they also work when they could have been absolute disasters. Given the commercial film industry’s preference for sequels and franchises for the safer box office bet they are over original films, maybe it's time to stop bemoaning the fact and start praying more filmmakers treat sequels as works of art in their own right rather than a case of “throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks.” Because it can be done, and done well. No more excuses, Disney.