“…The belated follow-up Top Gun: Maverick is as thrilling as blockbusters get.”
Clarisse Loughrey of The Independent (source)
“…Tops the original in every way imaginable, from an all-knowing performance for the ages from Cruise to its highly emotional storyline, ‘take my breath away’ aerial sequences and just about anything else you want from a studio blockbuster.”
Pete Hammond of Deadline Hollywood (source)
“Equally worthy of that big screen is the emotional strokes of Maverick that pack an unexpected punch.”
Tomris Larfy of RogerEbert.com (source)
The hype was real for Top Gun: Maverick. Audiences are not only calling it an improvement of the original Top Gun from 1986, but a landmark of contemporary action cinema that—perhaps—is a contender for the best of the year in that category. 97% of 414 reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, nearly (as of now) a billion in earnings at the box office, the highest-grossing film of Tom Cruise’s career.
Well, now I’ve seen it, and I even rewatched the original Top Gun in preparation (which, as it was the first time I viewed it, is about what I’d expect from an 80s action blockbuster: ok). Top Gun: Maverick is not what I expected; not the wild action thrill many are calling it. It was, in fact, even more boring than its predecessor and, in my eyes, not worth the good action sequences it gave me. The action-less content was so stale and overwhelming to the film’s runtime that it shadowed whatever enjoyment I might’ve taken from my watch experience.
That staleness begins with our starring character: Maverick (Tom Cruise). I cannot stress how uninteresting it is to witness a seemingly perfect protagonist consistently have conflict thrown in their face by other characters that are just ‘skeptical’, and then that protagonist soars over every conflict without issue. This strategy of storytelling plagues blockbusters, and this film follows it. The script screams that Maverick is in the right and, essentially, pitches that the plot need only be more and more obtuse obstacles thrown in his way for him to easily clear past.
Maverick suggests a possible character flaw early in the film, that he ‘isn’t a teacher’, but the moment he introduces himself to the top gun graduates he is an immediate instructional master. No conflict surrounding Maverick’s teaching capabilities are introduced when he is actually teaching: he effortlessly smokes every single pilot in a series of training dogfights. It is only later when not his methods are criticized but, instead, his plan: which does not follow the setup we were given and thus loses dimension.
When Maverick is scolded about his methods, he doesn’t end up displaying any internal conflict; rather, his defense is that he’s training the pilots to ‘be able to come back home’ after their incoming mission, and he rigidly stands by that defense. The conflict of whether insubordination in a strict environment is justifiable can be made interesting, but not when the characters involved are given dialogue so blatant, biased, and unmoving. The commanding officer says Maverick broke a rule, Maverick says he’s trying to keep his team from dying, then Maverick leaves the room with no consequences to his choice. What conflict is in that?
What conflict is there when Maverick visits his old girlfriend (Jennifer Connelly) and learns net zero information from her? What conflict is there when the team pokes a little fun at Bob (Lewis Pullman) and then nothing personable involving that character ever occurs afterwards? What conflict is there when Hangman (Glen Powell)—the obviously set-up asshole of the group—becomes an asshole for a few minutes and no one does anything about it? What conflict is there when Maverick is expelled for ordering the practice of his ‘impossible’ mission plan, then—one scene later—shows up everyone by flawlessly executing the plan himself resulting in him getting his position back?
Conflict in this film is scene-by-scene, not overarching. The one dilema we get that stretches across the film is between Maverick and Rooster (Miles Teller): the son of a pilot whom Maverick let down years ago. Maverick was asked to not let Rooster fly, so he, some time ago, secretly attempted to halt Rooster’s promotion. Rooster is upset at this and occasionally shows it in front of Maverick, then—at an hour and a half in—all is forgiven when Maverick assigns Rooster as wingman on the big mission.
… Wait, aren’t we missing something here? Rooster (albeit briefly) compromises things with his emotions when he challenges Maverick to a dangerous dive-off during training, but how does Maverick compromise things by trying to stop Rooster from joining the mission? Well, he can’t, because the script paints him as flawless. It attempts to suggest Maverick’s flaws by having him talk about them, out loud, to an old friend (Val Kilmer), but that is just talking. He never shows his flaws. He never performs any action the script views as flawed; never does anything (other than talk) to try and get Rooster off the mission. It’s hard to get invested into such a conflict when the only time it shows itself as action (in an action movie) is in one brief moment of intensity that carries zero consequence after it happens (both him and Maverick get a slap on the wrist and move on). What is entertaining about this?
Where is any entertainment in the majority of this film other than the scenes where ‘big jet go brrr’. Oh, wait, I remember: there’s a scene where the team plays football on a beach over some 80s music. A superior officer criticizes the supposed waste of time, then Maverick throws a one-liner at him and he walks away. How fascinating. This part isn’t even accidentally homoerotic: one of two great things about the original.
Even with the jet scenes in mind: we get our first truly exciting sequence during training where Coyote (Greg Tarzan Davis) loses consciousness after stomaching a ton of G-force, then a jet catches fire after a bird collision and two pilots narrowly escape an explosive crash. It’s tense, well-shot, spectacular, and over an hour into the film. The action is great, but there’s a slog of soulless story to trudge through in order to reach it.
I won’t deny that, after the hour-and-a-half mark, we are given some exciting sequences (one-after-the-other, as well). But: I also won’t forget that it took us an hour-and-a-half to get there; and, in all of that buildup time, there’s nothing but stale dialogue, shallow conflict, and cheap throwbacks to the original Top Gun that offer nothing more than fanservice.
On top of this—to be entirely honest as an enjoyer of fighting amongst large war machinery—I can’t even call the peak action of Top Gun: Maverick anything I haven’t seen before nor anything I would call nuanced. It’s all missiles and flares and occasional bullet strafing; not to say that I’m disappointed by this, but I’m not floored by it either.
Now, I know—for anyone reading this who enjoys popcorn entertainment (which, by the way, I enjoy too)—that my tone seems unnecessarily harsh and irritated for this kind of movie: a sequel to Top Gun about pilots getting in dogfights. However, I may be less inclined to point out these flaws in dramatic storytelling with such salt if it weren’t for the fact that reviewers and audiences are praising this action flick as something more than it actually is. I don’t believe it is anything more; anything new nor anything groundbreaking. It is, maybe, a little above the minimum.
Bottom line is this: there isn’t a lot of character to Top Gun: Maverick, and it needed it given how long it takes to get to the jet action. There’s great performances, great cinematography, great sound design, and some cool jets, but there is mach zero drama: the element so many others are praising the film for. I don’t need drama in my Top Gun sequel, but I’m not going to label this film as the best blockbuster of the year like so many others are when it offers absolutely nothing beyond what its predecessor had already done.
