Teodora’s Movie Reviews: “Top Gun: Maverick” (2022)

This year’s summer kicked off quite beautifully with the hit movie Top Gun: Maverick (and this comes from someone who hadn’t watched the prequel from 36 years ago). I only set off with a concise synopsis and awaited the development of the story (and was occasionally told by my mother, during the screening, that certain scenes were almost – or entirely – replicas of ones from the 1986 film). The echoes start right away, with the intro being shot from the same angles, in the same setting, with the same soundtrack (the Top Gun theme song, soon changing to the invigorating Danger Zone from Kenny Loggins). For some reason, whether you are familiar with Tony Scott’s 1986 motion picture or not, the theme track’s chime seems to instantly enthral people of different generations, one way or another. For whom does the bell toll? Apparently for us all.

In time, it has become only partially clear why Joseph Kosinski’s sequel has had quite a resonant impact on individuals who had barely heard of Tom Cruise’s role as a naval aviator; firstly, the movie does run off a smooth terrain. As chaotic as it may look like, Top Gun is, in fact, an effective blueprint for its follow-up, making it stand out from franchise revivals such as the disposable Matrix Resurrections (2021) or the lingering Star Wars sequel trilogy (2015-2019). The “chaos” mainly comes from young pilots blurting out a comical “Yes, sir” to their instructors, every now and then, or zany one-liners, meant to assert one’s authority among their colleagues. However, even in this context, the film still hands down a potent recipe to follow, having turned Tom Cruise’s brash character, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (the middle name being the call sign), on almost every possible side. And secondly, if Top Gun: Maverick indeed takes off from this smooth runway that’s been alluded to earlier, then it’s safe to admit that the movie’s charm rests upon the collection of callbacks to its predecessor. The references can go either way: they are to invoke nostalgia for connoisseurs or simply animate newcomers (because if they worked once, they may easily do the trick again – even after 36 years). I stressed the fact that the film’s success is partially clear to me; alongside the mentioned reasons, it’s still difficult to tell what else has the audience fully hooked. We may pinpoint the unswerving plot, functioning as a finely-tuned engine, or the satisfying combination of comfort and peril… or even the main characters’ search of a resolution, familiar to each of us. Reactions may vary and if a conclusion can’t be reached, we can simply trust that Top Gun: Maverick is not supposed to have us question events, but rather relish them.

Surely, people have had the right to ask why the sequel emerged in the first place, though. Plenty wondered whether it would have political or patriotic subtones like the first film – and those layers may keep being there, despite being ill-defined; all we witness is an anonymous enemy, hidden behind opaque helmets, whereas Top Gun aviators represent a form of American individualism to a certain extent, as they flash their colourful helmets which showcase the owners’ call signs, playfully written or drawn. In a way, it may be more suitable to retreat to a buffer zone, devoid of actual politics or possible perpetuated military propaganda, and notice how the movie wishes to speak to its viewers at a far more universal level. We then enter the danger zone where we get to meet and understand Maverick, a place where he knows, at the back of his mind, that the past can be felt in the present. History can repeat itself (and this can come off as something ironic within a film that toys with past references). The question is how much control one can have when it all narrows down to shaping the future and breaking out of a probable cycle.

There is no doubt that, in Top Gun: Maverick, Cruise’s character is still burdened by the death of his best friend, Nick “Goose” Bradshaw (Anthony Edwards), which occurred as a result of an aircraft canopy malfunction, when the two pilots were supposed to eject from their plane. Maverick’s “heavy load” turns out to be more distinct when he crosses paths with Goose’s son, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (Miles Teller). Interestingly though, we may detect how the protagonist has been “haunted” by his past long before the incident with Goose. Throughout Top Gun, it is established that Maverick makes most of his decisions under the (self-)imposed pressure that he has to follow in his father’s footsteps (Duke Mitchell, an aviator who is revealed to have died heroically during the Vietnam War). If he can’t live up to the Mitchell name yet (although he proves he does it already), he is to live up to his call sign and display a rebellious nature. Bringing people on the edge of exasperation (mixed with reserved admiration), Maverick defies regulations set by the navy or the Top Gun program, attempting to be an overachiever behind a cool demeanour. This leads to doubtful people around him, who are not convinced they would feel safe when flying beside the young hotshot. Even Tom “Iceman” Kazansky (Val Kilmer), Maverick’s short-term rival, openly expresses his concerns with the protagonist’s behaviour; and yet the latter will keep on believing that he can rely on his intuition and get away with it – for “you don’t have time to think up there. If you think, you’re dead.” Those are the words of “a hell of an instinctive pilot, maybe too good”, who later assists at his pal’s death, caused not just by a mechanical error, in the end, but also by a long string of rash choices in which Goose was left all tangled up. Emotional, psychological consequences do catch up with Maverick, the aviator who would claim he wasn’t “thinking” while airborne, when in reality, he had always been obsessed with his past. With the indefinite cause of his father’s death. With the fear that he might have been a coward, therefore his son would have been required to go the extra mile whenever he could. Just to demonstrate, once again sort of ironically, that history is not to repeat itself.

While there is a significant change to Maverick’s personality in the 2022 movie (since we receive a slightly more softened version of his, as expected), the theme of being stuck in the past persists. In a world filled with so-called drones, unmanned aircrafts, Pete Mitchell holds fast to the joys a pilot can experience. To others’ surprise, he doesn’t seek to climb up the rank ladder, choosing to remain a captain (when he could easily be an admiral or a senator), for he feels that he’s where he belongs. It might sound as if he dwells in the past (with a special attachment to airplanes deemed as “museum pieces”), but there are benefits to being an old-timer. And Iceman, the current commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, does not omit Maverick’s qualities and calls him back to Top Gun as an instructor. Over a short time span, his job is to train and recruit a group of young ace pilots, “the best of the best”, for a secret mission which involves destroying a rogue subterranean uranium-enrichment plant in a mountainous region. This change of scenery is to equally pump up Maverick and the audience – and this is also the moment when some may start asking how the past and the future can co-exist peacefully. It doesn’t come down just to a temporary tension between the protagonist and Goose’s son, Rooster; the film exhibits a clash between old and new perceptions, overall. Envious people are to mutter that “the future is coming and [Pete Mitchell’s] not in it”, because “[his] kind is headed for extinction”. Unaffected, Maverick recognizes the inevitability of it, but boldly postpones his symbolic quietus with impetus, sensing that there’s much to solve.

This is what Joseph Kosinski’s movie does: it takes ideas from the prequel and develops them for the sake of closure. The main character has a bunch of lessons to acknowledge and learn. Top Gun had a young Maverick detached from his colleagues, including his own best friend. Goose might have been the radar intercept officer (literally and figuratively alerting Maverick to what lies ahead), but he would often be left in the dust (and it may not last long until one ends up biting that very dust). Sitting behind his buddy, Goose would plainly detect the “ghosts” that his partner seemed to be flying against and caution him to be more grounded. Unfortunately, on-ground activities, such as a volleyball game, still wouldn’t stop Maverick from fleeing the scene impatiently, as he’d dismiss Goose’s own pleading to play one more game with him. Purely as a team. Before his death. It is actually no surprise that the volleyball scene is recreated almost four decades later through a football game on the beach, where Maverick deliberately has the young pilots working on their teamwork skills. We truly cannot help but feel that this is done in honour of Goose’s name, as well. It all pays off, as the protagonist consistently tests the limits of the hot-headed, ego-driven youngsters, tears down their walls and pushes them to constantly communicate with one another, in order for the extremely brief, but challenging mission to go swimmingly… while they are flying. Additional issues appear with Rooster who tends to warily scan Maverick and doesn’t give him too much credit at first. The viewers soon discover that Goose’s son has been “stuck” in his own way, not solely because of grief, but also because of Maverick pulling his application papers at the Naval academy (at his mother’s request, since she didn’t want him to have the same path as his father) and thus delaying his admission by several years.

What ensues is that both Maverick and Rooster need to step out of their own types of rut and “face” each other upfront – and behind their tense, but opportune meeting lies Iceman himself, the one who brings Maverick back to Top Gun in the first place. Curiously enough, Val Kilmer’s character, alongside Goose, has always seemed to be a voice of reason and moderation next to Cruise’s protagonist (regardless of his portrayal as an equally arrogant student). As already suggested in this post, Iceman had been aware of Maverick’s presumptuous side and had to wait for a while until he could fully perceive “the rebel” as a trusty wingman. In Top Gun, the boys’ final declarations of respect and loyalty towards one another ensured a heart-warming ending – one that definitely had to be picked up on. Iceman provides the risky (and beneficial) environment for Rooster and Maverick to not only win each other’s trust, but also revolve around (and grasp the meaning of) the movie’s mantra: “Don’t think, just do.” It carries the same essence as young Maverick’s “If you think [up there], you’re dead”, but it surfaces from a different place altogether, a place of additional maturity and consideration towards others, as paradoxical as it may sound. Don’t think, don’t postpone – but do think and care about those around you. If your instincts tell you that you can save and aid someone, just do it. A special kind of teamwork emerges from two men of thought who have to learn to be men of action, too. Iceman and Jake “Hangman” Seresin (Glen Powell) happen to be the individuals that highlight Maverick and Rooster’s predisposition towards thinking – and there are two key scenes for this. When Maverick scolds Iceman through a text message (who would have thought they would be seen doing this?), asking him why he didn’t warn him that Rooster was among the Top Gun graduates assigned to the high-risk mission, Iceman poses a crucial question: would have Maverick ever shown up if he had known that piece of information? Not likely.

Concurrently, Rooster and Hangman (whose exchanges and glances mirror those belonging to the young Maverick and Iceman)

have a mutual ego check, wherein the latter reminds the former that “anyone who follows [Rooster] is just gonna run out of fuel”, since “[he’s] snug on [a] perch, waiting for just the right moment that never comes”. Once neither Maverick nor Rooster defer decisions and break out of a loop, they are able to save each other, in the aftermath of the mission, all constituting a comforting parallel to Goose’s death (with them amusingly bickering that Rooster should have never returned to help Maverick).

The review might have gradually answered my own question as to why the movie works for all generations, whether or not they have watched the prequel. Top Gun: Maverick guarantees just enough context for everyone to understand where this new story of triumph originates from, after Goose’s absence and the resulting bumps along the way. A few goosebumps later, Cruise’s Maverick is given the formidable chance to redeem himself. “Time is your greatest enemy” are the words he uses when he describes the perilous conditions and requirements of the mission to the rookie pilots. But those exact words go hand in hand with the prompting statement “It’s time to let go”, as hard as it may be. Letting go of past mistakes makes room for new experiences and a better form of self-assessment. As soon as Maverick completely accepts not what, but who he is (“a fighter pilot, a naval aviator”), he also finds out how to teach efficiently, pass on his core qualities. When he’s no longer under Iceman’s wing (allegedly), other authorities are quick to brush him off, but Maverick steps forward, reminds everyone that his merits are rightfully earned and proves his place in any time frame, past, present or future. That’s what helps him survive in a modern world (and win over an even larger audience in 2022). Some things never change – and that is good, as a couple of allusions to Top Gun show, one of the coolest undoubtedly being the Great Balls of Fire performance.

(It also might be a shame that we never saw Rooster re-enact Goose’s famous sarcastic laugh and point out that there’s a double O in his call sign, as well – but we’ll let that slide.) Simultaneously, some things do change – and that is similarly marvellous, for people need the space to evolve, speed ahead when needed and gain peace of mind, whatever their domain of work is. Maverick’s story imparts the notion that Rooster(s) can take flight, after all. Our turbulent, but essential trips will take us home, eventually, no matter if we are in or under the gun (for that gun can be topped and overcome).