I’m late in writing this, but after watching House of the Dragon and (parts of) Rings of Power, I have to comment on Top Gun: Maverick.
Most people who know me well would call me picky.
But I think my standards are pretty damn tame.
I try not to throw my weight around as a writer, not because it’s pretentious and alienating, but because you don’t have to be a writer to appreciate good storytelling.
The thing is, in an age where Disney owns just about all content and media, pumping out one piece of Marvel drivel after another, it’s so fucking refreshing to watch a movie that’s actually about something.
Don’t get me wrong – I love a good Tom Cruise vehicle. But the first Top Gun was essentially a glorified music video (no hate, just saying).
I love Miles Teller. I love Tom Cruise. I love jets. What could go wrong? I figured it’d be a fun action romp to round out my weekend.
What I didn’t expect when I walked into the theatre was to spend the next two hours picking at my lip and tearing up over what has certainly been one of the top three movies of 2022.
The thing about Top Gun: Maverick is that it goes so much further than its predecessor without having to be louder, crazier, or more explosive.
Yes, this installment features an actual mission as opposed to just a few training exercises. And yes, there’s naturally more tension as a result.
But this sequel isn’t about war or commenting on American politics. It’s about the universal fear and subsequent reality of becoming obsolete.
I could go on all day about the expert character development, as Mav bears the brunt of Rooster’s loss to preserve the latter’s relationship with his widowed mother, or the relationship between Mav and Ice Man that seems to have aged like a great scotch, but what really gets me is the message at the center of it all:
It’s time to let go.
This sentence, uttered by Ice Man via his text-to-voice assistant, was so powerful I burst into tears.
Beyond the planes and the missions, and the great lines, and the beach football, this is a movie about the anguish and beauty of passing the torch to the next generation. It’s about finding the courage to let go.
Not to shit on Marvel too much (but yes to shit on Marvel, because I fucking hate that god-forsaken franchise), but I don’t remember the last time I was moved by the superhero sideshow the way I was during Top Gun: Maverick.
It’s a rare thing these days to see a movie that knows when to be quiet – let alone a Tom Cruise flick. And while Top Gun has no shortage of seat-gripping tension, it’s all centered around a weight that leaves you feeling grounded rather than heavy.
This is what I mean when I say I’m craving substance.
Stories don’t have to be sad to have meat. But the modern action film so often forgets how to be small – how to be human, rather.
Maverick is, in many ways, an utterly unrelatable character in that he can always back up his bluster with raw talent and skill. But Cruise makes him so damn real and likable, you end up walking out of the theatre feeling like Mav is an old friend.
If there’s a point to this post, it is to say that there ought to be more movies like Top Gun: Maverick.
What if, instead of packing everything so full of social commentary that it loses all sense of shape or purpose…
What if we told more stories about being human?
What if we told more stories about loss and love and struggle?
What if we didn’t have to spend 2 hours trying to collectively prove how socially conscious we are?
I’m not saying my millennial teenage years were perfect, but there’s something to be said for simplicity.
And I sincerely hope, once the well of kickass women who have no other personality traits – and superheroes who care more about social politics than the philosophical nature of the savior complex – has FINALLY run dry…
That we may see a return to stories that actually have something to say.
A stellar cast, a beautiful story, and killer stunts.
No notes.
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