We’ve reached the point where Denzel Washington is such a giant movie star that when he makes a movie, it’s more likely than not to be named after his character. He played Roman J. Israel, Esq. He’s always The Equalizer. He saw the dagger in The Tragedy of Macbeth. Like the biggest A-listers of his generation, the man knows how to keep you glued to a screen for two hours, and has built a filmography off of that reputation. There may not be a more dominant, charismatic presence in American movies than Washington, and that’s been true for decades.
Which is precisely what makes Washington’s work in Gladiator II so fascinating. This is ostensibly not Washington’s movie, and yet he inevitably, overwhelmingly assumes control of the Ridley Scott epic long before its climactic clash. For the most part, Scott returned to familiar sets, themes, and archetypes for his decades-in-the-making sequel, from Paul Mescal stepping into Russell Crowe’s anguished shoes to Fred Hechinger and Joseph Quinn trading flamboyant Joaquin Phoenix homages. The film feels so in conversation with its predecessor—down to literal, grainy callbacks—that it’d feel like far too much of a retread without a true disruptor. The smartest decision Scott could’ve made was to call on Washington, his American Gangster star, to bring that chaos.
Gladiator II pushes the action forward decades from where the first film left off, when Maximus (Crowe) died on the colosseum floor while his lover, Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), and son, Lucius (Spencer Treat Clark), faced an uncertain future. Played by Mescal in the sequel, an adult and seemingly orphaned Lucius is our focus after he’s taken prisoner by the Roman army and forced, like his father, to fight as a gladiator. Upon arrival in the Eternal City, he finds his mother partnered with his captor, the Roman general Arcacius (Pedro Pascal), and also meets an enigmatic arms dealer, Macrinus (Washington), who takes an interest in mentoring him for the ring. These threads gradually converge in classic twists of betrayal and ambition—and all roads seem to lead toward Macrinus’s Machiavellian plot to control Rome.
Though his aims aren’t exactly hidden from view, Scott does not spell out Macrinus’s intentions or his methods—only his backstory, as a former slave who has learned how to navigate a corrupt and cruel system. Washington does the work from there. He portrays Macrinus with irresistible swagger. He wields a joyous, toothy grin like a deadly curse, and spins stuffy classical dialogue with a jarring, colloquial ease. These choices, smashing through period trappings with a modern brio, recall Washington’s subtly searing take on Macbeth from just a few years ago. Only here, they serve an original—and more outwardly villainous—character. We watch one of the great living Shakespearean performers apply that specific skill to a role he can sculpt as he goes, one that holds no expectations or rules. Macrinus comes into view as the man pulling all the strings, and with Washington playing him so cheekily from moment one, the narrative gambit proves easy to buy.
This effect underlines the freedom that comes with a supporting role, the sort of part we haven’t seen Washington take on—at least not with this much relish—in quite some time. Rather than matching the movie’s broadly brooding aesthetic, he fights it. As Mescal trudges through a melodrama of legacy and retribution, Washington briskly glides through a black comedy of manipulation. Where most of Gladiator II lacks sexuality, Washington comes off like a mischievous, horny flirt, with eyes on every babe and hunk in his orbit. (The character is openly bisexual.) Washington recently revealed that he filmed a gay kiss that didn’t make the film’s final edit, but what survives in the theatrical cut, at least, makes such a scene fairly easy to imagine (and all the more disappointing to have been denied).
Washington has been nominated for six acting Oscars in the 21st century, all for lead performances. You’d have to go all the way back to 1990 to find the last time he was recognized for a supporting turn, for his electric work in the Civil War drama Glory. He won that Oscar, his first of two, and in the years since, Washington mostly stayed at the top of the call sheet. He emerged as the face of more movie posters than we can count, anchoring prestige dramas and action blockbusters in equal measure.
Early awards buzz is circling Washington’s work in Gladiator II, and he’s got a shot at winning his third and maybe last Academy Award in the category where he started. As he drops hints about his retirement from acting, discussing what he’d like his last big jobs on screen and stage to look like, Gladiator II’s positioning on Washington’s Hollywood arc feels gratifying, even moving. It’s both a return to the explosive, engrossing spontaneity that made him a star in the first place, and evidence of just how high that star has risen. Washington may not be the hero in Gladiator II—he may be the villain, in fact—but we can’t help but root for him. He’s taught us well.
