Review: "Top Gun: Maverick" is the blockbuster Hollywood forgot how to make

For the better part of a decade, the Hollywood blockbuster has been reduced to actors standing in front of green screens while underpaid visual effects artists scramble to render gray, muddy CGI explosions. Top Gun: Maverick violently ejects that formula. Tom Cruise, functioning as both the star and the ultimate cinematic perfectionist, insisted on strapping his cast into the cockpits of actual F-18 fighter jets. The result is a visceral, sweat-inducing cinematic experience where you can literally see the G-force pulling on the actors' faces. The aerial sequences are not just thrilling; they are a masterclass in spatial awareness and practical filmmaking.

Narratively, Joseph Kosinski’s film manages a nearly impossible balancing act. It leans heavily into the nostalgia of the 1986 original—complete with the obligatory beach montage and Kenny Loggins soundtrack—but it never feels entirely anchored by the past. Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is forced to confront his own obsolescence in an era of unmanned drones, acting as a thinly veiled metaphor for Tom Cruise himself fighting for the survival of the traditional movie star in the age of streaming. His dynamic with Rooster (Miles Teller), the son of his deceased wingman Goose, provides a genuine emotional core that the first movie lacked.

If the film has a weakness, it is that the "enemy nation" is kept intentionally faceless and generic to protect international box office returns, making the geopolitical stakes feel a bit video-gamey. The romance with Jennifer Connelly’s character also feels slightly tacked on to give Maverick something to do on the ground. However, once the third act hits, these complaints vanish entirely in the exhaust fumes. It is a thunderous, triumphant reminder of what pure cinema looks like.