Yes, I realize “hate” is a strong word. Yes, I realize that the 1979 “Mad Max” holds an 89 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, with its sequel “Road Warrior” boasting a remarkable 98. And yes, I am dating someone whose adoration for the films could almost exceed that of his for me. (Almost.)
They just don’t click with me. They feel dragged out, as though every scene is the same area of dead grass or sandy desert just shot from a different, lazy camera angle. The dialogue, sparse and poorly delivered, is corny to the point where it becomes practically laughable (and oh, did I laugh, alright). The only aspect I find that could ever stand a moment’s chance at holding my attention is the cars and explosions – probably the only two things that the original franchise is good for.
But even those aren’t up to standard. Granted, they will never be able to compare fairly with the pyrotechnics of the newest installment because of the drastic differences in film making technology, but they could have at least tried to keep us interested. Instead, all I felt after watching the original movie was a sense of ongoing boredom and a lulling impulse to fall asleep. I’d rather not give an all-encompassing, scathing review of those films, however, so as to not drive away those diehard “Mad Max” fanatics before I get to my main point. I digress.
2015’s “Mad Max: Fury Road”
Loud, heart-pumping, supercharged, post-apocalyptic greatness.
I saw it in theaters – twice.
I was, as expected, rather skeptical of it based on my impression of the original three. As the opening scene begins and Max instantly shoves a lizard into his mouth, I thought painfully:
“Oh God, here we go.”
And then, it erupted.
It’s fast, panicky, and desperate – exactly the way it should be. The War Boys are insolent and reckless, and their leader Immortan Joe is everything humankind despises. Our two heroes, Max and the uncompromising but benevolent Furiosa, are just as we imagined: determined to reach differing goals, but in frantic need of each other’s help to get there.
The honest truth is that this film breaks no new boundaries and reaches no previously undiscovered horizons. It follows the path that a film like this is known to follow, predictable and unsurprising.
And it works.
Not a moment goes by that we don’t already know what will happen next, and that is half the beauty of it. It is everything we want it to be, nothing less, and certainly nothing more.
The action sequences take center stage constantly, with the film’s plot taking more of a sideline at times, weaving in and out between the explosions and anger-driven road chases. They are expertly shot, changing quickly enough to feel the anxiety and adrenaline but observant to the point where we don’t feel like we missed a single second.
Parts of the dialogue are cheesy to a T, and surprisingly, I loved every minute of that. It was appropriate, the writers undoubtedly whispering about their cleverness behind the script. And not all of the talking is trivial banter, but there is enough of it so that I was satisfied with the movie not feeling like it was just one massive, 120-page action block.
And lastly, after the turnaround from the no-longer-existent Green Place back to the Citadel (that very familiar, expected point of hopelessness transitioning into a new, bigger, and better ambition), the film ends with Furiosa and the young women rising on a pedestal above Immortan Joe’s corpse. Meanwhile, Max disappears into the crowd, most suitably and humbly, to finally meet his original objective: leaving.
Overall, the film is thrilling and captivating, with few complaints from my end, other than when its corniness stretched a little too far beyond realism – but those moments were few and far between, in all honesty, and are hardly worth noting.
If you’ll take anything away from this, it should really only be one thing: go see it.
