Gladiator II and the Myth of the Big Bad

(Joseph Quinn’s Emperor Geta, credit: Screen Rant)

Ridley Scott’s Gladiator II is the highly anticipated sequel to his critically acclaimed 2000 blockbuster Gladiator. Its release has gained significant traction both due to the excitement of fans of the original, and the starpower behind the film. Set in the ancient Roman empire, shortly after the death of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Scott’s film explores the many socio-political controversies of the Roman empire through the lens of its protagonist, Paul Mescal’s Lucius Verus Aurelius. 

Lucius is the grandson of Marcus Aurelius and is portrayed by the film as the rightful heir to Roman emperorship. He was sent away by his mother, Connie Nielsen’s Lucilla, for safety, and therefore spent most of his youth in various territories outside of Rome before settling in Numidia, which is conquered and occupied by the Roman army at the beginning of the film. Through Lucius, we see the injustices inflicted by the Roman government and military upon sovereign territories, as well as the domestic wealth inequality experienced by Rome’s working and impoverished people. Evidently, Rome is shown to be experiencing a plethora of systemic issues.

However, the film takes a peculiar approach to addressing the problems we are presented with. The primary antagonists we are introduced to are the twin emperors Joseph Quinn’s Geta and Fred Hechinger’s Caracalla. The film impresses upon the audience quite clearly that they are bad guys. They revel in the suffering of others, they are cowards who use fear and power in place of respect, and they seem more focused on conquest and their own pleasures than on governing the Roman people. 

Later in the film, Geta is killed by Caracalla, and Denzel Washington’s Macrinus, the stablemaster who manages the gladiators, is revealed as a secondary antagonist. He manipulates Caracalla into giving him a government position before killing him to take power. By the end, Lucius defeats Macrinus in battle, and the rest of the troops are inexplicably swayed by his words to put down their arms and make peace. 

(Denzel Washington’s Macrinus guiding Paul Mescal’s Lucius as a gladiator, credit: People)

So, by the end of the film, Lucius rid Rome of our three antagonists. But what exactly did he change?

Yes, it is vaguely implied that Geta and Caracalla were perpetrators of corruption and that Macrinus only desired power. But does getting rid of them truly rid Rome of rampant wealth inequality, violent conquest, and slave labor? Were those problems ever attributed to them in the first place? Does the Roman populace even unanimously view these as distinct problems?

An interesting recurrence in the film is when dissenters like Lucilla and her husband, Pedro Pascal’s Acacius, wish to fulfill the dream of Rome that Marcus Aurelius had during his rule. There is a certain idealism surrounding the system’s return to its republican structure. When discussing with Lucilla, Macrinus scoffs at this notion, revealing to her that he was previously branded a slave under Marcus Aurelius’ rule, and subsequently questioning what distinguishes him from the likes of the current rulers. 

In alignment with his claims, historical records suggest that the issues portrayed in the film were most certainly issues prevalent in Rome even when it was a republic with elected government officials. The Roman army still conquered more and more land, often by force, and its economy still relied heavily upon slave labor and exploiting its working people. Is the solution to these problems anywhere near as simple as the film portrays it, if they prevailed under so many different leaderships?

This is a trope common in all kinds of media, particularly action and fantasy. From J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, to Matt Reeves’ The Batman, to Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games, we are presented with governments and systems that run on pervasive, systemic injustices, yet the solution presented to us is always getting rid of the Big Bad at the top. This is because getting rid of the bad guy and replacing them with a good guy is a simple concept. As humans, the idea that our problems are attributed to one bad individual is easier to conceptualize than the complexities of how these problems embed themselves into our society. We like the narrative of the Big Bad, because it compartmentalizes our distress into a single vessel of objective evil. 

This mindset translates into how we think about real issues as well. We make socio-political discourse through the framework of figureheads, labels, people groups, and party affiliations because a nebulous entity is easier to blame for our suffering than a complex, multifaceted system in which we all have a part. Then, all we have to do is get rid of the bad guys and vote in the good guys. 

What’s far more difficult to contend with is the idea that the conditions under which the bad guy showed up existed far before them, and will exist far after them if we don’t address them at the root. What’s far more difficult to contend with is the idea that the good guy’s vision of the future might not include us in the way we thought it did. 

At the end of Gladiator II, power is presumably reinstated to the bloodline of Marcus Aurelius through Lucius. There is no telling what Lucius will do to reform the empire with his power. There is no telling whether he will reform it at all. Perhaps, he will merely stand in the Colosseum and look upon gladiators in the position he once was–branded with the insignia of his choice–and utter dreams of a better Rome.