Gladiator II (2024): Rhinos, Baboons, and Sharks, Oh My!

Gladiator II has hit theaters, and the setting for the sequel begins sixteen years after Marcus Aurelius’s death, when Rome is under the corrupt rule of twin emperors Geta and Caracalla. Hungry to expand Rome's empire, the imperial army is ordered to conquer the land of Numidia, where Aurelius’s grandson, Lucius Verus, is captured and sold into slavery. After losing his wife during the Roman conquest, Lucius fights his way to gladiatorial fame, driven by vengeance.

The film scored 7/10 on IMDb and 71% from Rotten Tomato critics - decent ratings, but they don’t quite match up to the original 2000 film starring Russell Crowe, which earned an impressive 8.5 on IMDb and 80% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Here’s why I think Gladiator II fell short. This review will break down the plot points, character development, and special effects that could have elevated or altered the film to meet expectations. But don’t worry - we’ll end with some well-deserved praise for its incredible production and execution value.

Let’s dive into the hottest topic flooding Reddit threads: those CGI animal battles. Our hero Lucius Verus (son of Russell Crowe’s character from the first film) faces off against three major beast encounters in this epic historical fiction. Heavy on the fiction.

After the sack of Numidia, Lucius (played by Paul Mescal) faces his first brutal test - a ring of drugged-up baboons. The slave traders inject these primates with some kind of “angry juice” to amp up their aggression, using the ensuing chaos to assess which slaves might be worth buying for the arena. The climax? Lucius taking down a massive hairless baboon that looks more like a lab experiment gone wrong than anything you’d find in nature. It’s terrifying, sure - but realistic?

The Today Show posed the question to Duke University associate professor Lauren D. Ginsberg, who didn’t mince words with her verdict: absolutely not. Turns out Ridley Scott drew inspiration from a real baboon attack on tourists in Africa he’d seen online, but historically? Slave traders wouldn’t have touched this idea with a ten-foot pole. While Ginsberg notes that “monkeys were a possibility for gladiators to fight,” she emphasizes they came “relatively late” in gladiatorial history and were used primarily for hunting games, not combat arena matches.

Historical accuracy aside, the scene feels like overkill. These CGI baboons look engineered for warfare rather than plucked from the wild. I get what Scott was going for - using these terrifying beasts to showcase the rage burning inside Lucius, and how he channels that fury to survive. But in my opinion, it was a total misfire.

Here’s what would have been historically accurate and more compelling: slave traders typically chained potential gladiators together for combat trials. Imagine this introduction of Lucius’ capabilities instead: Lucius chained to his father figure Jubartha (Peter Mensah), someone he’s known for most of his life. Now there’s real drama - kill your mentor or potentially die by his hand? This setup raises fascinating questions about Lucius’s character. Would he hesitate? Could he make that brutal choice? What would his decision reveal about him? Since Jubartha was injured and he wanted to move on to the afterlife, it would have been a potential mercy execution, but Lucius would still be burdened with the emotional impact after ending a friend’s life.

Instead of building depth through these human moments, the film went for flashy animal battles. But here’s the thing - we don’t need rabid baboons to care about Lucius. A historically accurate gladiator trial, loaded with emotional weight, would have done more to hook audiences while staying true to Roman customs. The spectacle overshadowed the substance, when we could have had both.

Round two of the animal battles unfolds in the grand Colosseum, where Lucius faces off against a warrior mounted on - get this - a full-grown African rhino. Picture it: this massive beast charging through the arena doors with its armored rider perched on top. Sure, the idea of anyone controlling a rhino like some oversized horse strains credibility, but there’s actually some truth in this scene.

Ginsberg confirms rhinos were Colosseum regulars since Julius Caesar’s time, crowd-pleasers through and through. But much like the baboons, they were typically part of hunting spectacles, not used as combat mounts. Still, this scene delivers where the baboon fight failed. We get to see Lucius’s quick thinking in action as he calmly outmaneuvers the beast, while showing off his leadership chops by keeping his fellow gladiators alive through clever teamwork.

The grand finale? A flooded Colosseum. Yeah, you read that right - the ancient Romans could turn their arena into a giant pool. According to Ginsberg, this engineering feat took “five hours to fill it and four hours to drain it.” Mind-blowing stuff. They’d stage entire naval battles in there, complete with ships. That part is historically legit, but what angry beasts did Ridley Scott place beneath the water?

Kaplan (2024) describes the scene as featuring “man-eating tiger sharks — as dozens of gladiators fight for their lives on ships in a staged naval battle.” Ridley Scott unleashed a pack of CGI sharks that hunt down gladiators like they’re at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Here’s the thing - these aren’t even Tiger sharks. They look more like juvenile Great Whites with an inexplicable bloodlust. Maybe they got a dose of that ‘angry juice’ too? But jokes aside, this scene abandons reality with the inclusion of these apex predators. Ginsberg notes that while “semiaquatic animals, like crocodiles and seals, were used in battles,” sharks never made the lineup. Why? Simple geography - you won’t find Great Whites or Tigers cruising the Mediterranean, and good luck transporting them to Rome two millennia ago.

Look, I get it - entertainment value matters. But this pushes period-piece credibility too far. Ginsberg points out that Scott had plenty of historically accurate options for “gladiator battles [such as] elephants, ostriches, bears, bulls, lions, leopards, tigers, panthers and more.” Why not swap those sharks for a terrifying panther? Or maybe some Nile crocodiles for the naval battle? Both scary, and both historically on point. The whole sequence quickly goes from stunning to a bit silly.

Here’s why I believe the original Gladiator scored higher: character development beat spectacle. We invested in Maximus because we got to know him through meaningful dialogue and situations. This is why by the time he dies after killing Commodus and then reunites with his family in the afterlife, we’re reaching for the tissues.

Lucius Verus, on the other hand, leaves much to be desired. We know three things about him: he can fight, he’s Maximus’s kid, and he’s got mommy issues. That’s it. Instead of CGI creature features, this film needed to dig deeper into who Lucius really is. And honestly, it wouldn’t have been that hard to implement.

Let me break down how the plot could’ve been reshaped to support a character-driven narrative:

1. We needed more of Arishat’s story. The setup is solid - after Maximus dies in the first film, young Lucius gets shipped off by his mom Lucilla. He grows up tough, becomes a soldier, falls for Arishat. Then bam - she dies in the Numidian battle just ten minutes into the sequel. We’re supposed to feel why Lucius burns with rage against Rome, why he blames them for destroying his chance at happiness. But how can we really feel that gut punch when we barely know Arishat? Give us scenes of their life together. Show us how she helped heal his abandonment wounds. Maybe she’s the first person who made him feel truly at home since losing his family. Let’s see her challenge his view of Romans, making her death by Roman forces even more ironic and tragic. Perhaps she was teaching him her native language, planning their future - details that could come back to haunt him during his gladiator fights. Instead of just telling us Lucius blames Rome for her death, show us why she meant everything to him. Those ten minutes could have been spread across the first act, building up to a loss that really hits home.

2. General Marcus Acacius (played brilliantly by Pedro Pascal) was a missed opportunity. The writers really dropped the ball on what could’ve been the film’s most complex relationship. Think about it: Lucius blames this man for Arishat’s death, they finally meet in the Colosseum where Lucius surprisingly shows mercy, then - brutal twist - Acacius gets turned into a human pincushion by the twin emperors’ archers. But here’s how it could’ve been so much better: Ditch Lucilla as the messenger pigeon between them. Let these two men’s story unfold naturally. Picture Acacius discovering Lucius’s identity on his own - maybe he recognizes fighting techniques passed down from Maximus, or notices a family trait. Instead of sending mom with messages, let Acacius approach Lucius directly, trying to help the young prince despite getting death threats in return. Then comes the real character development: Acacius learns who Lucius really is but keeps it a secret from the emperors, allowing trust to build. Meanwhile, Lucius slowly discovers Acacius is plotting against the twins. Now we’re cooking - Lucius starts seeing the man behind the uniform, understanding that not every Roman is his enemy. That many Romans are in active rebellion towards their ego maniacal rulers. Then by the time they face off in the arena, Lucius’s mercy wouldn’t feel like it comes too quickly. We’d have watched these men move from enemies to reluctant allies, making that final moment of forgiveness feel earned rather than convenient for the plot.

3. Lucilla (played by the beautiful Connie Nielson) didn’t belong in this film. Historically, Lucilla was exiled by her brother Commodus and then executed shortly after her banishment to Capri, Italy. But facts aside, her inclusion hurt the story in multiple ways. First, she’s pure fan service - bringing back a familiar face from Gladiator (2000) for nostalgia’s sake. Instead of developing Lucius as his own person, we’re stuck watching him wrestle with the betrayal of his mother. Rather than meaningful scenes with Arishat or Acacius, we get a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it argument between Lucilla and Lucius followed by what feels like an eternity of her crying over her hopeless situation that carries over from the first film. The writing gets even messier in order to include Lucilla. Lucius and Lucilla fight, he says he never wants to see her again, then suddenly he’s ready to die defending her in the arena? Make it make sense. And here’s where it really falls apart: why would the powers-that-be let an increasingly popular gladiator - whose royal heritage is now common knowledge - anywhere near a fight involving his own mother? In a world of cutthroat Roman politics, this makes zero sense. Then they kill Lucilla off anyway, proving she was just a plot device to fuel Lucius’s rage. It’s strange writing - we already know Lucius loves and misses his mother from childhood. Her death doesn’t deepen his character; it just gives him another reason to be angry in a story already overflowing with revenge. Bottom line: every minute spent on Lucilla’s recycled drama could have been used to build Lucius into someone more relatable. Making the film about Lucius rather than about Maximus’ and Lucilla’s son.

4. Lucius’s relationships needed way more screen time - particularly with his fellow gladiators. Sure, we get his friendship with Ravi the healer (Alexander Karim), who helps rally Acacius’s 5,000-strong army. Nice moments are shared between the two men, but it barely scratches the surface. The biggest head-scratcher is how Lucius leads his fellow gladiators - many of whom he fought alongside in Numidia - without any real setup. Lucius leads them in every single Gladiator game depicted in the film, but there is no clear rhyme or reason. Lucius admits he’s not a born leader, wasn’t even a general back home, yet these guys follow him like he’s Maximus reborn. And remember, they don’t know about his royal blood until the third act. So what gives? Why do these hardened warriors take orders from him? More importantly, why should we buy into his leadership? We needed training montages, quiet moments between battles, actual conversations. Show us how Lucius earns their trust. Maybe he shares his rations, stands up to guards, or takes punishments meant for others. Give us those small moments that transform someone from just another fighter into a leader worth following. Instead of telling us Lucius becomes their leader, show us his growth from reluctant survivor to the kind of man others would gladly die for.

Now for the clear wins in this film that made it fun, well-crafted, and memorable:

1. Denzel Washington’s Macrinus stands as this film’s political heartbeat. Yes, he’s complex and self-serving, but that’s exactly what makes him fascinating - he embodies Rome’s ruthless political machinery. His machinations show us his motivations for wanting to bring down Rome: every calculated move, every alliance formed and betrayed, represents the corruption Lucius must fight against. What makes Macrinus brilliant is how Washington plays him with layers. He’s not just another schemer - he’s a man shaped by hard lessons, who learned that in Rome, loyalty to oneself is the only safe bet. His witty remarks and confident swagger mask a survivor’s instincts. Each decision, from manipulating the twin emperors to his dealings with Lucius, serves his endgame while revealing Rome’s balance of power. Even Macrinus’s death serves the story perfectly. By dying in a way that forces Lucius to confront the brutal reality of Roman politics, he pushes our hero to question whether violence and revenge can truly fix a broken empire. It’s through Macrinus that we see why Rome needs not just a new leader, but a complete moral overhaul.

2. The production design screams attention to detail in every frame. The banquet scene steals the show as a masterclass in world-building. Beyond just looking pretty, it reveals Rome’s excess through historically accurate touches - regional delicacies arranged to display wealth, power dynamics played out through seating arrangements, and that centerpiece rhinoceros head symbolizing Rome’s reach across conquered territories. What makes this scene crucial is how it contrasts with the gladiator scenes. While slaves fight for survival below, the elite dine surrounded by exotic spoils. Each prop tells a story: imported spices hint at trade routes, specific pottery marks social status, and even the servants’ clothing indicates their roles in the household. The costume design particularly shines in this film - subtle differences in fabric and decoration instantly tell us who holds power and who’s climbing the ladder. This level of detail doesn’t just make things look good - it reinforces the film’s central theme about Rome’s moral decay. When Lucius later brings chaos to this carefully ordered world, we understand exactly what he’s fighting against.

3. Quinn and Hechinger nail the twisted dynamic of Rome’s twin emperors, but it’s Hechinger’s Caracalla that really shows how power corrupts. His performance as the overlooked twin evolves from subtle resentment to unhinged brutality - you can read years of being second-best in every twitchy movement and burst of violence. The pair’s dynamic perfectly illustrates Rome’s leadership crisis. Geta’s more calculated cruelty plays off Caracalla’s desperate need to prove himself, creating an unstable power structure that’s bound to implode. Their scenes together crackle with tension - every interaction could end in either a brotherly embrace or a death sentence. Watching Caracalla spiral further into madness while trying to outshine his twin shows exactly why Rome needs the kind of change Lucius represents - a leader chosen by deeds rather than birth.

4. The fight choreography is brilliant. Each battle, whether against man or beast, reveals Lucius’ evolution from desperate survivor to strategic leader. Without relying on dialogue, these sequences show his growing confidence, tactical thinking, and show growing support from the Roman public. The pacing is brilliant: while most 2.5-hour films risk dragging, each fight scene builds on the last, raising both the physical and emotional stakes. Early skirmishes emphasize Lucius’s raw talent and rage, while later battles showcase his transformation into someone who fights not just for survival, but for a cause.

5. Beyond the spectacle, what makes this film work is the passion behind it. Yes, Ridley Scott indulged in over-the-top moments with his CGI sharks and buckets of blood, but that audacity serves a purpose to the director- it keeps the audience invested in Lucius’s journey. The incredible cast clearly understood their mission for this sequel. Even in smaller roles, each actor brought depth to their character, contributing to the larger tapestry of a Rome in desperate need of change. This wasn’t just about making another sword-and-sandals epic; it was about exploring timeless themes through spectacular entertainment. The ending especially resonates. After all the blood and brutality, we’re left with hope - not just for Rome’s future, but for humanity’s endless struggle toward peace. It suggests that even in our darkest, most violent moments, there’s a path toward something better. In this way, the film transcends simple entertainment to remind us that the fight for a better world is as relevant now as it was two thousand years ago.

Reference

Kaplan, A. (2024, November 22). Were there really rhinos, baboons and sharks in the Colosseum? A professor explains ‘Gladiator II’ scenes. MSN.com. https://www.msn.com/en-us/movies/news/were-there-really-rhinos-baboons-and-sharks-in-the-colosseum-a-professor-explains-gladiator-ii-scenes/ar-AA1uAd2p?ocid=BingNewsSerp