As the press lined up outside Cineworld Leicester Square for the much-anticipated premiere, one question hung in the air: could Tom Cruise and Top Gun: Maverick and the Top Gun legacy born in 1986 save cinema from a spiral of decline following the pandemic?
After just over two hours, it was clear Top Gun: Maverick had achieved something rare in legacy sequels; it had surpassed expectations by offering us a big-screen epic that, while far more grown-up than its predecessor, retained much of its charm. Top Gun: Maverick was the big-screen film we all needed following COVID-19, reminding us of cinema’s power to whisk us away from the shit of our everyday lives.
Top Gun (1986) ducked, dived and raced through a series of genres and pop culture tropes to achieve box office success. It was an 80s movie through and through and remains an action-packed, pop video-inspired love letter to a decade of bravado, confidence and capitalism. But over thirty-five years after Top Gun lit up the box office, could a long-awaited sequel do the same? After all, Maverick would land at a different time with a very different social backdrop.
The plot may be ludicrous, and the nostalgia dialled up to ten, but Top Gun: Maverick is a surprisingly emotional, adrenaline-fuelled ride that even the most hard-hearted critics would succumb to. In Top Gun: Maverick, Tom Cruise cements his place as one of the last action heroes and celebrates the soaring power of the communal cinema experience. But more than that, Maverick takes us back to a heady cocktail of ’80s action born in 1986.
Was Top Gun a homoerotic bromance? A brazen advert for the US military? A feature-length music video? A hormonal teenage dream? Or an opportunity to cash in on the sex appeal of a young Tom Cruise? These questions surround Tony Scott’s 1986 military action flick. Top Gun left every viewer with a slightly different perspective, from the sweat-drenched muscles to the pearly-white smiles, tight white T-shirts, and aviators. It was whatever you wanted it to be.
There is no doubt that Top Gun heralded a new, Reagan-inspired vision of the American military following the anti-war movies of the 1970s. But it also wrapped this bold, star-spangled vision of combat in MTV-inspired pop. Designing a film for the new MTV generation was inspired; Top Gun didn’t need a detailed story, just a killer soundtrack, sex appeal and an emotional hook. Top Gun was the first of a new wave of music video movies. These movies would prioritise their soundtracks over their stories, bathing us in perfect bodies, skimpy tops, fast action, and full-blooded Americana.
Watching Top Gun now is a fascinating experience; after all, the triumphalism feels somewhat tired, and its music video montages cover up the fact that it has a faintly ridiculous story. Yet, it remains addictive and enthralling over 35 years later, and it continues to pull in new audiences to cinemas desperate for some Top Gun magic. And that, my friends, is down to its star. Love or loathe him, Tom Cruise is a Hollywood legend, and Top Gun and its long-awaited sequel demonstrate the sheer power of his presence in movie theatres.
Follow Us