A decade after Gods of Egypt first attempted to translate ancient mythology into large-scale fantasy spectacle, Gods of Egypt 2: Rise of the Serpent returns with something the original film only hinted at: confidence in its mythic ambition. Bigger, darker, and far more self-assured, this sequel embraces its operatic tone and leans fully into the idea that gods are not just powerful beings—but deeply flawed rulers standing at the edge of cosmic collapse.
Set years after balance was restored, the story opens under the reign of King Horus (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), whose rule has brought uneasy stability to the Golden Empire. Yet order proves fragile. An ancient seal separating the mortal world from the Duat begins to fracture, allowing the rise of Apophis, the Serpent of Chaos—an entity older than the gods themselves, destined to devour Ra and drown creation in eternal night. From the outset, the film frames its conflict not as a battle for a throne, but as a war for existence itself.
The narrative smartly splits its focus between the divine and the mortal. Bek (Brenton Thwaites) returns in one of the film's strongest evolutions. No longer the reckless thief of the first installment, Bek is now a master architect and trusted royal advisor, shaped by loss and responsibility. His journey into the deepest circles of the Underworld to recover a forgotten artifact gives the film emotional grounding. Thwaites plays Bek with restraint and maturity, making his arc less about heroics and more about sacrifice. The film repeatedly reminds us that mortals pay the highest price when gods fail.
Coster-Waldau's Horus is a more complex figure this time around—less impulsive, more burdened by leadership. His performance captures a ruler haunted by the knowledge that divine order often requires morally impossible choices. That tension culminates in the film's most compelling decision: freeing Set (Gerard Butler), Horus's greatest enemy, from an endless desert prison of his own making. The choice is both narratively inevitable and emotionally charged, reframing their rivalry as something closer to tragic brotherhood.
Butler's return as Set is a clear highlight. Gone is the one-note villainy of the past; in its place is a furious, weary god shaped by exile and failure. Butler leans into Set's raw physicality while allowing moments of bitterness, regret, and grim humor to surface. The uneasy alliance between Horus and Set becomes the film's dramatic backbone, underscoring the idea that chaos cannot be defeated by purity alone—it requires confronting the darkness within.
Visually, Rise of the Serpent is unapologetically grand. Sky-shattering battles unfold as gods transform into living metal, cities rise and collapse in waves of divine energy, and the Nile itself burns with supernatural fury. The film's depiction of the Duat is particularly striking, presenting the Underworld as a layered realm of shifting realities rather than a single hellscape. Ancient magic bends space and time, creating imagery that feels closer to high fantasy than historical epic.
Importantly, the film understands that spectacle must serve myth, not replace it. Action sequences are frequently tied to character decisions, reinforcing the consequences of power. When gods fall, the earth reacts. When mortals rise, legends are born. This cause-and-effect structure gives weight to even the most extravagant moments, preventing the film from collapsing under its own scale.
Tonally, Gods of Egypt 2 embraces a darker, more serious atmosphere without abandoning its pulpy roots. The dialogue is elevated but accessible, drawing inspiration from mythological language while remaining audience-friendly. There are moments of levity—mostly through Bek—but they never undercut the looming sense of apocalypse. The film clearly aims for epic tragedy rather than lighthearted adventure, and that commitment pays off.
If the film has a weakness, it lies in its density. The mythology is expansive, and casual viewers may feel overwhelmed by the number of concepts, realms, and divine hierarchies introduced. While longtime fans of mythic fantasy will appreciate the depth, the pacing occasionally slows under the weight of exposition. Still, these moments are offset by strong visual storytelling that often conveys meaning without words.
Ultimately, Gods of Egypt 2: Rise of the Serpent succeeds by fully committing to its identity. It is not ironic, restrained, or grounded in realism—and it doesn't want to be. Instead, it offers a sweeping mythological epic where enemies become allies, mortals shape destiny, and gods are forced to confront the limits of their own divinity.
By raising the stakes from political power to cosmic annihilation, the film transforms the franchise into something more enduring: a modern myth about order, chaos, and the terrible price of balance. When the serpent awakens, nothing remains unchanged—and for Gods of Egypt, that transformation is its greatest triumph. 🐍🔥