By Alex McPherson

Lacking the focus and heart of its predecessor, director Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator II” undercuts its splatter-filled action sequences and on-point performance from Denzel Washington with a jumbled narrative that’s content to live in the shadow of greatness.

Scott’s sequel takes place takes place 16 years after the events of “Gladiator,” which concluded with the deaths of Maximus (Russell Crowe — the Roman general-turned-revenge-fueled-gladiator-turned potential “savior” of Rome — and the beady-eyed Emperor Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), a tyrant who assumed power after killing his father and former emperor, the wise Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris). 

The “Dream of Rome” to establish a true republic, which motivated Maximus and his supporters, has seemingly been extinguished, and chaos reigns once again among the populace. Rome is controlled by two pasty, unhinged brothers — co-emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger), with a monkey on his shoulder — who seek wealth and violent conquest above all else.

They order the Roman army, led by the increasingly disillusioned General Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal), who is married to Marcus Aurelius’s daughter Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), to conquer as much new territory as possible, as violently as possible.

Pedro Pascal.

Lucius (Paul Mescal), Lucilla’s son, is living humbly as a farmer in the North African colony of Numidia with his wife, Arishat (Yuval Gonen). They were forced to flee Rome after Maximus’s death. But Lucius, all grown up and using the nickname “Hanno,” cannot escape his Roman past.

Acacius and his troops show up and ransack the city — killing Arishat and taking Lucius back to Rome as a prisoner. The stage is set, like Maximus before him, for a tale of revenge, and Lucius (fittingly angry) is bloodthirsty to avenge his wife.

Also like Maximus before him, Lucius is quite a capable fighter. He impresses the conniving, calculating slave trader Macrinus (Washington), who takes Lucius under his wing as a gladiator and promises to grant him an opportunity to kill Acacius if he wins enough fights. 

The ever-manipulative Macrinus, who was also once a gladiator himself, plots his own ascendancy through Roman royalty, as Lucius fights his way through the coliseum, and Acacius prepares to rebel against the parasitic rascals in command. The stage is set for plenty of drama and political intrigue, complete with hyperviolent set-pieces galore and numerous hunks in kilts. 

It’s a continuation of “Gladiator,” all right, and Scott delivers the basics of what fans of swords-and-sandals epics expect. What’s lacking this time around, though, is a clear emotional throughline — a focused narrative of one man’s quest for vengeance and eventual unity of a fractured society. 

Denzel Washington

By awkwardly stitching its subplots together, “Gladiator II” has neither the pacing nor strong characterization of Maximus’s story, sapping momentum while hitting familiar plot beats and offering only glimmers of greatness amid its nostalgia-laden framework.

Most of these involve Washington, who embodies Scott’s commentary on “playing the system” with a mixture of camp and fearsome excitement that’s sorely lacking elsewhere.

Lucius isn’t as compelling a hero as Maximus, and Mescal’s characteristic talent for subtlety is poorly realized here. David Scarpa’s uneven screenplay gives Mescal plenty of chances for impassioned speechifying and opportunities to look angry, but Mescal lacks Crowe’s charisma and gravitas, worsened by the all-too-familiar setup for Lucius’s story that “Gladiator” fans (or anyone familiar with the revenge genre) have seen done before, and done better. A questionable accent certainly doesn’t help. 

Still, Mescal certainly has a “Movie Star” look, if not the screen presence of Crowe, who conveyed an enduring compassion despite Maximus’s burning desire for revenge. Mescal is muted and bland by comparison, a talented actor playing against his strengths as a performer.

Mescal and Pascal fight

Pascal doesn’t leave much of an impression either, essentially filling in the aspects of Maximus’s character that Lucius lacks. He’s a victim of the film’s narrative structure that jarringly cuts between several subplots, seemingly unsure of what’s worth focusing on narratively and tonally. 

Acacius is relegated to sequences laden with exposition that carry little impact, weighing his love for Lucilla (Nielsen is typically radiant but saddled with much of the screenplay’s blunt dialogue) and the Dream of Rome with his official responsibilities.

These sequences feel workmanlike via Scott’s scattered direction that, more generally, abandons the classical feel of the first film and undercuts its typically excellent period detail (with strong production and costume design) with the goal of moving the plot along, rather than immersing viewers in the drama itself.

What “Gladiator II” does have, at least sporadically, are crowd-pleasing scenes of brutal violence and backstabbing politics, elevated by the always-excellent Washington.

Indeed, Macrinus — fiendish, verbose, and menacing (possessing viciousness beneath smiles and “playful” banter) — gives Scott’s film a much needed burst of energy. Washington is clearly enjoying himself, taking big swings in an ensemble that otherwise plays it safe.

Macrinus is always thinking three steps ahead — playing the system from the inside, casting aside any and all compassion for those caught in the crossfire. 

Connie Nielsen is Lucilla

It’s alternately funny and shocking to watch what he and Washington have up their sleeves — Washington brings a sense of volatility that commands his every scene, and Macrinus’s backstory is layered enough to shoulder the entire movie on his own (but that would have meant relinquishing the “nostalgia factor” that this sequel depends on).

The action set-pieces, too — with savage swordplay and CGI animals galore, including baboons, rhinos, and sharks (?!) — are always fun to watch: loud and chaotic in the best ways. There’s still something lost in the film’s visual effects, an immediacy that the scrappy battles from the first “Gladiator” had in spades. 

These sequences, and those of Macrinus’s machinations (with Quinn and Hechinger being suitably repugnant beside him), are where “Gladiator II” ascends beyond mediocrity — leaning into enjoyable craziness rather than humorless moralizing. 

Like Scott’s tonally erratic “House of Gucci” before it, “Gladiator II” can’t balance its more satirical flourishes (mostly involving Macrinus) with the earnest drama of Lucius’s quest for revenge and eventual redemption of Rome.

It comes across as confused and scattered, reliant on blatant callbacks and rehashed emotions, ultimately swapping its relevant political commentary with shrug-worthy simplifying.

There’s still enough pure spectacle in “Gladiator II” to engage on the surface level. Am I fully “entertained,” however? Not quite.

Fred Hechinger plays Emperor Caracalla in Gladiator II from Paramount Pictures.

“Gladiator II” is a 2024 action period drama directed by Ridley Scott and starring Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington, Pedro Pascal, Joseph Quinn, Fred Hechinger and Connie Nielsen. It is rated R for strong bloody violence and its runtime is 2 hours, 28 minutes. It opened in theaters Nov. 22. Alex’s Grade: C+

By Lynn Venhaus

A bizarre and strange reimagining of Georges Bizet’s 1875 opera “Carmen,” this experimental film is also oddly compelling.

That’s because of the chemistry of the two leads Melissa Barrera as Carmen and Paul Mescal as Aidan. They are haunting in a modern story long on magic realism and short on backstories, character development and motives. Even the time and place aren’t definitive.

And because the fragmented and unfocused screenplay is the most frustrating aspect of the gritty film, what we glean from the tragic romance co-written by Oscar winner Alexander Dinelaris (“Birdman” in 2015), Loïc Barrère, and Lisa Loomer is that there is little resemblance to the classic opera but a smidgeon of similarity to the 1954 film “Carmen Jones.”

However, there is a tormented soldier and a fierce young woman both drawn to each other because of circumstances.

Carmen and her mother are mysterious women living in the Mexican desert, and the discharged Marine Aidan, now back home, has PTSD.

The daughter is forced to flee after her mother Zilah (Marina Tamayo) is murdered while she dances flamenco-style. Then, during a dangerous border crossing, Carmen is rescued by Aidan, who takes a job working as a border guard. His first night isn’t exactly what he had in mind, and he’s now on the run with a stranger.

Lots o’ baggage is obvious but not revealed. The pair head to Los Angeles where she seeks her mother’s best friend, the mercurial Masilda (Rossy De Palma), who owns a nightclub, La Sombra. The exotic entertainer gives them a safe space to hide but the police are on their trail. (Fun fact: De Palma, a Spanish actress, has been in multiple Almodóvar films.

Melissa Barrera as Carmen

The very fit couple spend a good deal of time physically running while they try to avoid getting caught.

In his feature film directorial debut, French choreographer Benjamin Millepied is fascinated by doorways and other symbolism, crafting a dreamscape using the color red as a visual nod to the iconic opera (and Pedro Almodóvar’s bold use of color in his films, anyone?).

Millepied, who choreographed “Black Swan” (starring his wife, Natalie Portman, in her Oscar-winning role), uses interpretive dance numbers in an attempt to propel the muddled story.

Barrera, a Mexican actress who was in the film adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “In the Heights” as Vanessa, is not a trained dancer but her grace and technique are impressive. She has played Sam Carpenter in the fifth installment of “Scream” and its follow-up “Scream VI,” and has a hypnotic quality to her performances.

She pairs well with Mescal, the Irish actor Oscar-nominated this year for “Aftersun,” who competently dances with her in the desert and at the club. They also sing (separately) in the movie.

Composer Nicholas Britell has crafted an intriguing original score, further enhancing his reputation that includes three Oscar-nominated compositions (“Moonlight,” “If Beale Street Could Talk” and “Vice”) and an Emmy Award for Outstanding Original Main Title Theme for “Succession.”

Julieta Venegas and Taura Stinson wrote lyrics to Britell’s music for several songs, and a French choir is used as soundtrack background.

Not sure why more dance and less opera are a means to connect the characters, but the concept is “inspired by,” and not a remake per se. I think it is equally confusing to those who are familiar with the opera and those who’ve never seen it before.

While one can applaud the ambition and certain moments, overall it is not a satisfying experience.

Paul Mescal as Aidan

“Carmen” is a 2022 drama with music and dance directed by Benjamin Millepied and starring Melissa Barrera, Paul Mescal and Rossy De Palma. It is rated R for language, some violence and nudity and the run time is 1 hour, 56 minutes. The movie opens in select local theaters on May 12. Lynn’s Grade: C.

By Alex McPherson
Brooding, raw, yet ultimately uneven, directors Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer’s “God’s Creatures” is dripping with dread-inducing atmosphere and acting talent, led by an excellent Emily Watson.

Set in a coastal Irish fishing town — drenched in fog, dreariness, antiquated ideals, and a heavy sprinkling of impending doom — the film opens with the drowning of a young man. In this community, nobody is taught how to swim, so the villagers aren’t tempted to risk death themselves to rescue someone, a fitting illustration of the stiff norms that have remained for generations.

Aileen (Watson) works as a supervisor at the seafood processing plant (run entirely by women, except for one male manager), preparing oysters and fish caught by men in the village. She lives with her stern husband Con (Declan Conlon) and near-catatonic father-in-law Paddy (Lalor Roddy), who will barely move a muscle only to suddenly slap Aileen in the face, implying a violent past. 

Aileen dutifully goes through the motions — working long hours, quietly conversing with coworkers during smoke breaks, babysitting her daughter Erin’s (Toni O’Rourke) infant child, grabbing an evening drink at the pub — until the day her dearly beloved son, Brian (Paul Mescal), returns from a multi-year trip to Australia. Brian had left Aileen and company unexpectedly, not communicating with the family while overseas.

This left a gaping wound in Aileen’s heart, so his unexpected reappearance fills her with joy; Con and Erin are more ambivalent about Brian’s return. Brian is eager to resume working on his grandfather’s oyster farm, and Aileen has no qualms about stealing supplies from work to support him. In fact, Aileen is willing to sacrifice much to protect her child, even if he turns out to be a far different person than she imagines he is.

Soon enough, troubles arise. Brian is accused of sexual assault by a young woman and family friend named Sarah Murphy (Aisling Franciosi), who works at Aileen’s plant and once had a romantic relationship with Brian years ago. Aileen provides an alibi in court for Brian without a second thought, thus saving him from further investigation. 

This decision, however, gradually eats away at Aileen’s psyche, as she sees Sarah’s subsequent ostracization from the townsfolk, and experiences a crisis of conscience. She’s torn between her maternal instincts and factual reality, slowly but surely recognizing the troubled traditions that control her community, manifesting in both subtle and blunt ways. The title “God’s Creatures” takes an ironic bent as Aileen comes to recognize the harmful dynamics at play, baked into the fabric of the land.

Suffice to say, “God’s Creatures” is quite a downer. A simmering menace persists from beginning to end — largely thanks to impeccable sound design and carefully calibrated performances — rendering this bleak drama practically a horror film. With a muted color palette and stark, wide vistas, Chayse Irvin’s cinematography is fittingly chilly. The score, by Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans, is full of discordant strings and startling percussion, complementing the clamor of oyster shells and the swoosh of lapping waves. 

Like a living, breathing monstrosity, the music builds upon itself as Aileen’s conflict intensifies, incorporating additional elements that, at one point, evoke the feeling of an unseen creature breathing heavily — an omnipresent threat that exerts control over anyone in its grip. Shane Crowley’s screenplay, while occasionally leaning into heavy-handedness, rarely feels out-of-place, its authenticity helped by thick Irish accents. 

Watson is, as ever, absolutely mesmerizing as Aileen, communicating multitudes without uttering a word. Although the film withholds detail of her past and her close bond with Brian, Aileen remains a believably conflicted protagonist. Her initial relief and happiness with her son’s return turns to rash protectiveness, doubt, anger, and instability. Watson sells each aspect of her character’s evolution (or de-evolution), the camera focusing on her during prolonged closeups where we witness the guilt, grief, and fire burning just beneath her stoic facade. 

Mescal’s charismatic screen presence suits the character of Brian, a shifty lad whose banality belies a violent, impulsive heart. Brian acts very differently when he’s being watched from when he’s alone, and Mescal expertly embodies that dichotomy, although the film leaves little doubt to Brian’s culpability. Franciosi almost steals the show, lending haunted gravitas to the role of Sarah, a woman alienated from the only place she’s called home.

Despite excellent fundamentals and ever-timely subject matter, though, Davis and Holmer’s film fails to explore its characters and the world they inhabit with the depth they merit. “God’s Creatures” prizes tone above all else, grounding us in a richly textured setting, yet neglecting to give its inhabitants the same care.

Indeed, Aileen’s grappling with morality does raise pertinent questions about love and loyalty versus truth and justice, but winds up wading through melodramatic waters. It’s a shame that, at arguably the height of her intensity, the film turns away from her, and undercuts both Watson’s performance and the contemplative storytelling that came before. 

In addition, the film’s focus on Aileen’s struggles takes attention away from Sarah’s experiences and the isolation she feels. Aileen is often relegated to observing her from afar, eventually recognizing the role she plays in Sarah’s suffering. This approach, while giving Watson loads of time to showcase her skill as a performer, lessens the emotional heft of Sarah’s story. 

Scenes where Aileen encounters Sarah tap into the insidious ways that casual misogyny and power imbalances manifest themselves, but only on the surface level. One searing monologue by Franciosi at the film’s conclusion alludes to a resilient, scarred, and complex character who deserves more than a few moments to get the spotlight. Davis and Holmer choose to merely acknowledge Sarah’s challenges rather than engage in insightful commentary, especially surrounding her treatment by others, and her own courage and strength despite it. By the time “God’s Creatures” finally centers her narrative, it proves to be too little, too late — deserving of a plot with wider focus, and one less centered on Aileen’s predictable (albeit undeniably well-acted) psychological turmoil.

Still, the formal elements of “God’s Creatures” shine, even when the drama takes jarring turns. This is an icy, chilly ordeal, which leaves a mark once the end credits roll regardless.

Emily Watson

“God’s Creatures” is a 2022 psychological drama co-directed by Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer, starring Emily Watson, Paul Mescal and Aisling Franciosi. It is rated R for language, and runs 1 hour, 40 minutes. It opened in select theatres in U.S. on Sept. 30 and is now available to rent through digital platforms. Alex’s Grade: B.