‘Top Gun: Maverick’ Review: If You Build It, We Will Come

For those wondering why this Top Gun: Maverick review is late, as I’ve previously explained, my wife and I are in quarantine pending surgery. This means we go nowhere, see no one, have groceries delivered… COVID could kill the whole deal. What changed? Well, the surgery will take place three hours from home, so we decided to camp nearby for a couple of weeks, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s a drive-in out here, and that drive-in’s playing Top Gun: Maverick, so here we are…

Let me start by saying this… Because so much time’s passed since TGM’s release, my expectations were sky-high. When was the last time so many people were unanimously in love with a movie?

Well, those expectations were not only met, they were exceeded. TGM is spectacular. The nostalgia factor is perfectly calibrated, the story immediately pulls you in and never breaks the spell, the peril felt real, and, above all, Tom Cruise’s performance as Pete “Maverick” Mitchell is one for the ages.

Cruise isn’t getting enough credit for pulling this off. It’s been 36 years since the late Tony Scott’s Top Gun blew the doors off the box office. Thirty-six years. How many actors have you seen resurrect a role after a lengthy recess and still come across as the same guy? I can’t think of one.

Twice Eddie Murphy tried to recapture the magic of his early box office hits with Beverly Hills Cop 3 (1994, after a seven-year absence) and Another 48 Hours (1990, after eight years). It wasn’t the same. The spark and hunger were gone. After 16 years, The Great Jack Nicholson failed to bring back Jake Gittes in The Two Jakes (1990). Harrison Ford’s probably come the closest with Indiana Jones, Han Solo, and Rick Deckard after decades and decades, but it’s never a bullseye. That thing that made Harrison Ford Harrison Ford, that inner fire doesn’t burn as bright.  In each of the above cases, you sense a Big Star dressing up for a paycheck.

Not Cruise. He’s white-hot in this Oscar-worthy masterstroke of understatement, of that indefinable thing only a movie star can do—plumb the depths of a well-defined screen image in ways that are felt rather than seen. Everything that made Maverick one of the most iconic characters of the 80s is still there … and yet it’s not. There’s no air-punching, no cocky grin, no high-fives, no getting into the other guy’s face, none of the physical callbacks you expect. Instead, Cruise internalizes all that. Nevertheless, you still sense that cocky young guy is in there. Now he’s older, seasoned, alone, a little sad about that, and haunted by mistakes. This Pete Mitchell wouldn’t like 1986’s Pete Mitchell, yet Cruise still telegraphs he’s the same guy.

It’s a miraculous feat, an all-timer of a performance.

Watch below:

That doesn’t mean Maverick’s been cheapened, which is something that happens too often (and deliberately for political reasons) in these reboots. The easy (and woke) route would’ve been to tear this icon down (especially an 80’s icon) in the same way those dreadful Star Wars sequels tore apart Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. You know what I mean: Maverick’s an aging, embittered drunk living in a trailer, getting into fights, ignoring his teenage daugh— Stop. Just the thought of it’s pissing me off.

TGM does it exactly right. Maverick is still Maverick. A loner, rebellious for the right reasons (to get the job done), a pilot determined to be the best, to push the envelope and himself. He’s still all about excellence and serving his country, but the package is wiser, worldly, and confident enough to let his actions speak for themselves. His mouth no longer writes checks his ass can’t cash.

Everything about TGM works. The relationships are believable, the story is logical and engaging, the emotional moments hit home without being manipulative, and you worry someone could die… Yet, it’s still blockbuster entertainment, a top-notch men-on-a-mission movie with all the expected beats delivered in very satisfying ways.

When was the last time you didn’t want a movie to end? Well, that was me last night. Usually, at the end of these blockbusters, I’m either exhausted (Marvel) or satisfied (Spider-Man: No Way Home). TGM’s 131 minutes flew by and left me wanting to spend more time with these characters. And I say that as someone who’s not a big fan of the original.

Those of you under a certain age might find this hard to believe, but movies like TGM used to be the norm, not an exception so rare you feel like you’ve struck gold. No, really, there was a time when Hollywood only wanted to thrill, move, and entertain us with great stories, iconic characters, and universal themes. There was no preaching, lecturing, or talking down to us. Oh, those “old” movies still had plenty to say, but rather than the filmmakers showing off for their peers by wagging their fingers at the audience with pompous pronouncements and smug characters behaving in ways that violate human nature, the lessons came by way of theme and subtext—which enhanced the movie whereas today everything is dated and diminished.

TGM does have a lot to say about race and gender, and the human condition, about the blessings of forgiveness and letting go, about the price that comes with being the best, and why it’s worth it. But it’s told to us through story and example, which is what makes it so effective. We don’t need to be told a woman pilot can do the job. She does the job. We don’t need to be lectured about race relations. TGM’s melting pot just is—which reflects the reality of Normal America, not the rigged funhouse mirror created by the left.

Most of all, TGM is about being the most important thing in the world: Your own man. The conformists, the sycophants, the go-alongers-to-get-alongers never reach Mach 10. What makes America America are our Mavericks. We live in a country where, if you so choose, you are allowed to reach the horizon of your abilities, and those are the people who get the job done. Top Gun: Maverick is itself an example of that, of Cruise and the filmmakers going their own way, rebelling against the horrors of woke, respecting the fans, and getting the job done with one of the biggest hits of the year and best sequels ever made. Best of all, it is timeless. Thirty-six years from now, we will still be watching Top Gun: Maverick, sharing this magic with our kids and grandkids.

If Hollywood built more of these, we would come; we really would. It ain’t COVID keeping us away. It ain’t video games or Netflix, or anything other than the fact that woke is a killjoy that erases the magic.

Had Star Wars gone the Top Gun: Maverick route, the greatest film franchise in history wouldn’t have been demoted to a TV show.