Nolan. Bond. Spider-Man. In the end, it might well have been Cruise. Of all the names primed to revive the thrill of big-screen spectacle, the long-awaited sequel to Tony Scott’s 1986 Top Gun may have soared above them all.
Speaking to an eager crowd at this year’s Cannes Festival, where Top Gun: Maverick received its premiere, Cruise revealed that despite numerous COVID-enforced delays, he never once considered releasing the film anywhere other than in the cinema. The notion of sticking to one’s guns may never have been more apt, or quite as justified.
That’s because Top Gun: Maverick, perhaps a little too unapologetically, is a brand of grandeur blockbuster distinctly lacking since the pre-pandemic days. Despite the call sign of Cruise’s cavalier pilot Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell speaking to the contrary, it hardly follows a route less navigated. Rather, the film unashamedly revisits much of the same narrative airspace of its predecessor, from the whooping, high-five jingoism to the faceless, nameless adversary from some unspecified corner of the world. At times – think the sun-soaked, Danger Zone-soundtracked opening – it lifts entire sequences wholesale.
But what the film lacks in ingenuity it makes up for in pulsating, action-driven melodrama, when Maverick is drafted in to school a new generation of talented aviators on the need for speed. Time, he says, is a pilot’s worst enemy. Indeed, four decades on from the events of the first film, it hasn’t been kind to the series’ protagonist, still wracked with the lingering guilt of best pal Goose’s (Anthony Edwards) death.
To complicate matters further, among the latest batch of hot-blooded recruits is Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw (Miles Teller), the son of Mitchell’s late wingman. And it’s on this dynamic that much of the film’s dramatic weight hinges, with Rooster’s resentment of Mitchell compounding the inner turmoil Maverick can never quite shake.
As such, Top Gun: Maverick mines some surprising emotional depths just as the central gaggle of skilled pilots navigate some very literal ones. Namely, the film’s interest in the longevity of grief is a welcome addition to the sweaty testosterone and shirtless beach antics. One moment, in particular, an interaction between Maverick and his former rival-turned-friend, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky (Val Kilmer), is realised with sensitive, quiet poignancy.
It’s not all smooth sailing, however. Turbulence quickly comes in the form of a similar glorified male bravado that rather glaringly dates the original, while the script penned by Ehren Kruger, Eric Warren Singer and Christopher McQuarrie is never quite as progressive as it thinks it is. The addition of a female pilot – Monica Barbaro’s Phoenix – as well as a diverse crop of flyers comprising Fanboy (Danny Ramirez), Payback (Jay Ellis), and Flyboy (Manny Jacinto), while welcomed, loses much of its credence when they quickly become little more than token footnotes in the arcs of the film’s white American men.
However, it would be remiss to ignore just how much of a jaw-dropping spectacle director Joseph Kosinski has crafted here. It’s far from perfect but on pure visual splendour alone, Top Gun: Maverick passes with flying colours.
Dir: Joseph Kosinski (12A, 131 mins)
Top Gun: Maverick is out in cinemas now
words GEORGE NASH
