“Gladiator II,” the enjoyably dumb sequel to the brawny Ridley Scott epic that won the best picture Oscar nearly a quarter-century ago, has just finished its premiere screening on the Paramount Pictures lot. Paul Mescal, the actor charged with donning a breastplate and replacing Russell Crowe, is mingling with the crowd, who, given the movie’s length and dinner-hour start time, are almost too busy scarfing down pizza and pasta to notice. I’m talking with a Paramount publicist who is giving me a history lesson on how the Romans filled the Colosseum with water in order to stage a naval battle.
Scott orchestrates something like this in the movie, pitting the crews of two ships, one manned by Roman soldiers, the other by gladiators, against each other. Only, this being a Ridley Scott movie, he adds an extra element — sharks. “There’s no way they used sharks in real life,” I say.
The publicist protests, and another studio rep joins the conversation. “Someone asked Ridley about that and he answered, ‘Sharks are cool. Did the Romans actually use them? Who the f— cares?’” Who the f— cares? It is a question both specific to the scene we’re discussing and, let’s be real, to the awards season in general, an overlong marathon of nonsense and vanity that ends with Oscars usually being handed out in ways that infuriate us.
Which, to be clear, is a reason the Oscars remain so much fun, not to mention a valuable snapshot of what movies and performances academy.
