The original Top Gun is a musical with planes, or a pageant that celebrates MTV culture and the military industrial complex. It barely has a plot, and instead functions as a series of loosely-connected scenes. No one remembers the enemy the heroes face, but they remember how Kelly McGillis lost that loving feeling, then later had her breath taken away. Top Gun: Maverick is a significant improvement over the original film because it jettisons the original’s loose structure, and replaces it with something much more urgent. Like the most recent Mission: Impossible sequels, this is another eye-popping action film that serves as subtext for Tom Cruise’s race against mortality to prove his superhuman excellence – all for our own amusement.
After a 35-year absence, Cruise plays Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, a hotshot pilot whose skill in the cockpit comes with a contempt for authority. That continues to present day: he still works as a Captain in the Navy, except now he tests experimental aircraft. In the opening scene, he discovers the Pentagon has canceled the program, and of course he disobeys a direct order to go on one last flight. Director Joseph Kosinski cuts between Cruise pushing the plane to its limits, and the ground crew muttering to themselves in disbelief. One character whispers, “He’s officially the fastest man alive.” It won’t be the last time they ogle Cruise in total awe.
Rather than face dishonorable discharge – one of many scenes where we must suspend our disbelief – Admiral Cain (Ed Harris) sends Maverick to teach at Top Gun, aka the Navy’s prestigious flight school. Another enemy is conveniently developing a dangerous weapon, and conveniently a small handful of exceptional pilots are the only way to stop it. If there is a complication, it is personal: one of Maverick’s students is Rooster (Miles Teller), who is the son of Goose, Maverick’s best friend who died in the original Top Gun film. Tempers will flare, as they must, and characters will solve their difference in the air or while playing sports on the beach, showing off their muscles in the glistening sun.
If it sounds like I’m annoyed with how the film is set up to serve Cruise’s ego, I want to be clear that is consistently fun and thrillingly presented. He and his castmates push themselves to make each dogfight and training exercise seem dangerous, plausible and exhilarating. Improved cameras have made it possible to film the jets in more exciting ways. Now Kosinski can mount cameras on the nose of the planes, for example, so whenever it tilts in one direction, the horizon tilts along with it. On top of conveying incredible speed, these cameras ensure we always understand what is happening, more or less. Another key element is Christopher McQuarrie, Cruise’s frequent Mission: Impossible collaborator, who has a screenwriting credit here and produces this film. As with Cruise’s other franchise, characters repeat and repeat each phase of the “impossible” mission, and the cross-cutting adds crucial coherence to objects that break the sound barrier several times over.
No one expects nuanced character development in a film like this, so the story instead relies on archetypes and shrewd characterization. Glen Powell plays as Hangman, a cocksure egomaniac who needles Rooster whenever he can. He is an obvious stand-in for Val Kilmer’s Iceman, who was Cruise’s foil in the original film. Kilmer reprises his role here, serving as Maverick’s sage at a crucial moment (the film works Kilmer’s battle with throat cancer into the film, lending Iceman some additional gravitas). The biggest stand-outs, however, are Jon Hamm as Maverick’s superior, and Jennifer Connelly as this love interest. Hamm borrows a little from Don Draper, the kind of hard-ass who can barely hide his disgust, while Connelly adds more charm and sex appeal to the love interest role than it requires. Because we understand these sharply defined characters so quickly, there is an illusion of depth whenever they break that mold to show some vulnerability. It’s a neat trick that many modern films have forgotten.
Top Gun: Maverick never specifies the enemy’s country, a choice whose purpose is twofold. By not offending any foreign government, the film has an added opportunity to celebrate American exceptionalism. If the thrilling, multi-stage climax was taken seriously in geo-political terms, it would start World War 3. The other purpose is to make each action scene about the pilot’s personal determination, rather than someone else’s defeat. Frequent close-ups in the cockpit convey significant tension, despite the cast wearing helmets and masks (production notes the actors underwent extreme flight-related pressure on real jets). While all the pilots have their moment to shine, Top Gun: Maverick is constructed to remind us – again and again – it is Tom Cruise who is the most exceptional, the most determined, the most heroic. They lay it on thick sometimes, but anything else would be a betrayal of this misunderstood franchise.
You may recall that immediately after Top Gun, Tom Cruise worked with Martin Scorsese on The Color of Money and begun a 20-year run of exciting, original entertainments with the best directors in the world, mostly avoiding sequels. It is ironic that Cruise returns to the role that made him a star at a crucial moment in the movie industry, when theaters are still struggling to find audiences in anything not related to superheroes. By waiting for a sequel until right now, Cruise positioned himself as the fictional savior of the world, and the real-life savior of theaters.
To Cruise and Maverick, there must be no compliment greater than hearing a skeptic begrudgingly intone, “You did it again, you son of a bitch.” In both senses, they earn it.
Photo courtesy of Paramount Pictures
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