Tom Cruise remains the seemingly indestructible face of American cinema’s obsession with the past. As Maverick, the oldest pilot in the squad, he appears to have aged barely a day since his first test flight. His career statistics are as impressive as his aerial manoeuvres: three Oscar nominations for Born on the Fourth of July, Jerry Maguire, and Magnolia, and three Golden Globe wins—statues he famously returned on principle. Beyond the accolades and the relentless Mission: Impossible franchise, Cruise’s personal life has been equally high-octane, navigating three high-profile divorces from Mimi Rogers, Nicole Kidman, and Katie Holmes while raising three children.
Yet, not everyone from the original 1986 classic followed Cruise’s trajectory back to the cockpit. Kelly McGillis, once the astrophysicist who took Maverick’s breath away, was notably absent from the 2022 sequel. McGillis has been candid about her reluctance to join the original cast, famously describing the script as a “Western in the sky” she could have performed blindfolded. Prioritising life over fame, she stepped away from the limelight to run a restaurant in Florida with her second husband, Fred Tillman. Following a civil union with Melanie Leis in 2010 and subsequent split, McGillis found contentment in North Carolina, valuing personal relationships over the hollow pursuit of celebrity.
Triumphs and Tragedies of the Original Wingmen
The most poignant narrative to emerge from the Top Gun saga belongs to Val Kilmer. Once Maverick’s cool-headed nemesis, Iceman, Kilmer carved out one of the premiere acting careers of the 1990s with hits like The Doors, Heat, and Tombstone. However, his life took a difficult turn in the late 2010s due to a battle with throat cancer that significantly altered his voice. He made a touching return as a four-star general in the sequel, but his health continued to decline. In a sombre note for film history, Kilmer passed away from pneumonia on 1 April 2025, at the age of 65, leaving behind a legacy documented in his critically acclaimed autobiographical film, Val.
Meanwhile, Anthony Edwards, forever known as the doomed Goose, found massive television success as Dr. Mark Greene on ER, earning a Golden Globe before transitioning into production and appearing in recent dramas like WeCrashed. Similarly, Meg Ryan, who played Goose’s wife, rocketed to stardom as America’s Sweetheart. She dominated the 90s box office with When Harry Met Sally… and Sleepless in Seattle before shifting her focus behind the camera, recently directing What Happens Later. Her path reflects a wider trend among the cast: a diversification of interests, with Ryan adopting a daughter and watching her son, Jack Quaid, forge his own successful acting path.
The Supporting Cast’s Enduring Presence
The depth of the original film’s talent pool was remarkable. Tim Robbins, who played Merlin, went on to win a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for Mystic River and directed the acclaimed Dead Man Walking, all while maintaining a politically active public profile. Adrian Pasdar used his debut as Chipper to launch a robust career in television and voice acting for Marvel animation. The formidable Michael Ironside and the veteran Tom Skerritt continued to be reliable presences in the industry. Skerritt, in particular, maintained a steady workflow well into his later years, winning an Emmy for Picket Fences and appearing in The West Wing, cementing the original cast’s status as Hollywood royalty.
A Shift in the Cinematic Landscape
While the Top Gun cohort represents the profitability of sincere nostalgia, the industry’s wind direction is changing. For at least a decade, Hollywood banked heavily on the “Era of Nostalgia,” with films like Jurassic World: Rebirth dominating the box office as recently as mid-2025. However, the conclusion of cultural phenomena like Stranger Things signals that this well may be running dry. Stepping into this void is what director Tom Gormican identifies as the “Era of the Meme,” a transition where reverence for the past is replaced by ironic reconfiguration.
The Rise of the Meta-Sequel
This shift is perfectly encapsulated by the new film Anaconda, a meta-sequel starring Jack Black and Paul Rudd. Unlike the earnest return to the danger zone seen in Top Gun, this project takes a 1997 film famous for being rubbish and reimagines it through a lens of self-aware humour. The premise sees Black and Rudd playing characters who, inspired by the original creature feature during their youth, attempt to film a remake in the Amazon, only to encounter a very real, very giant snake. It classifies as a “legacy sequel” of sorts, but one that relies on the audience’s knowledge that the original was a cinematic disaster.
From Reverence to Internet Irony
Gormican’s approach mirrors his work on The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, where Nicolas Cage played a meme-ified version of himself. Just as the internet embraced Cage not for his prestigious accolades but for his eccentric, high-energy performances, the new Anaconda leverages the shared language of internet culture. Nostalgia and memes operate on similar mechanisms—recognition and shared imagery—but where nostalgia relies on affection for a “lost paradise,” memes thrive on speed, absurdity, and a lack of respect for prestigious thermometers.
The characters in this new Anaconda view the original 1997 film not with the reverence a pilot might hold for a fighter jet, but with the specific, ironic love reserved for “so bad it’s good” cinema. It is a distinct pivot from the strategies that brought Maverick back to the screen. Hollywood is no longer just looking back to honour its history; it is looking back to remix it, acknowledging that for a generation raised online, a clumsy giant snake is just as culturally significant as a fighter ace, provided you can laugh at it.
