George Miller’s “Mad Max: Fury Road” is a
carnival of choreographed chaos, a celebration of blackly humorous
ultra-violence, and an unbridled release of frenzied fetishism. It’s a movie
that isn’t holding anything back or practicing any form of restraint, yet
somehow manages to fit in a story that flows effortlessly from one freak-show
set-piece to another. Even more astounding is the tonal balance displayed
between the film’s cartoonish, hard-R viciousness and an operatic whimsy that
almost seems childlike and gleeful in all its bright-eyed mania.
Writer/Director Miller returns to the
mythology that launched his career from being an ozploitation cult curiosity to
a reliable Hollywood mainstay. After introducing the world to the desolate
wastelands of the post-apocalypse in 1979’s “Mad Max,” 1981’s “Mad Max 2: Road
Warrior,” and 1985’s “Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome” Miller went on to defy his cinematic
first impressions with mid-level dramas like “Lorenzo’s Oil” and family movies
like “Happy Feet.” Now, after 30 years
away from the franchise that propelled him and actor Mel Gibson, he has comes
back to the Mad Max world as an accomplished technical filmmaker with new vigor
for visual storytelling.
The ruggedly handsome Max, played previously
by a much-younger Gibson, has now been replaced by a gruffer, more wild-eyed
version of the lone wanderer, played by English actor Tom Hardy. Here Max rambles
into the wrong situation again, as he finds himself amongst a devious
cult-leader/dictatorial sultan named Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Burn). The
disfigured king rules an army of bald, suicidal soldiers who are begging for
the chance to give their lives in glorious destruction, as they race their rusted,
modified death machines across the desert landscape. Max is then taken hostage and chained to
front of a car manned by an eager try-hard named Nux (Nicholas Hoult. They’re
connected by chains threaded with a long intravenous tube allowing the two to
share blood as Nux eventually loses control of his vehicle amidst all of the
destruction and ends up tagging along even as our hero manages to escape the
relentless death-ride.
Max’s hapless journey leads him to Furiosa
(Charlize Theron), a selfless warrior-woman transporting a truck full of abused
sex slaves who were forced to breed with the evil ruler. The hero begrudgingly
decide to join their cause if it means using their vehicle to find a sliver of
earth unfazed by the blight of nuclear devastation. Not unlike “Road Warrior,”
this act of defiance causes a horde of pursuers to charge the truck in hopes to
stop the rescue mission before the desperate party can reach their destination.
The movie is dominated by a series of
extended chase scenes involving the complicated blocking of several stunt
vehicles, racing along at unknown speeds. There are only a few moments where
the movie slows down to explain things and in between those moments we are
treated to a three-ring circus of high-octane shoot-outs, people pole-vaulting
from one moving vehicle to the next, and a hostile environment that seems to
glisten everyone in visible, sun-scorched agony.
Interestingly enough, this installment
seems to be less influenced by the tone and style of the previous films within
the franchise and more inspired by the many movies that shamelessly aped the
genre tropes they established. The brutality of Neil Marshall’s 2008 end of the
world pastiche “Doomsday” echoes in the background. Likewise, in his
Post-Modern western “The Good, The Bad, The Weird,” Kim Jee-Woon’s restaging of
the climactic vehicle pursuit sequence from Miller’s own “Road Warrior” informs
the amped up, hyper-edited language of the chase scenes in “Fury Road.” The
snake is eating its own tail maybe, but done with surprising effect.
Even well-meaning pulpy schlock such as Kevin Costner’s “Waterworld” and the Vin Diesel’s Riddick movies seem present in the mythological make-up of this long-awaited sequel. Yet unlike Disney’s tedious “John Carter” film, which suffered from too many better movies having the privilege ripping-off its original source material first, “Fury Road” took the relevant notes from its cinematic offspring to reinforce its sturdy framework.
Even well-meaning pulpy schlock such as Kevin Costner’s “Waterworld” and the Vin Diesel’s Riddick movies seem present in the mythological make-up of this long-awaited sequel. Yet unlike Disney’s tedious “John Carter” film, which suffered from too many better movies having the privilege ripping-off its original source material first, “Fury Road” took the relevant notes from its cinematic offspring to reinforce its sturdy framework.
It’s easy to speak of “Fury Road” in hyperbole
because it’s made with the kind of bravura that baits a loud response. It’s also made really, really well, despite
being filled with the type of non-stop action pornography that normally
disengages the critical mind—ala the headache inducing “Transformers” saga or
Gore Verbinski’s messy and over-long “The Lone Ranger.” Instead of padding a
lazy screenplay with a joyless gauze of carelessly edited cacophony, Miller
adds a musicality and lyricism to his destruction that feels inspired and
joyful at the visual possibilities of kinetic action. What’s more, the detail
and attention paid to the film’s production design and world-building is so
specific that your eye is always given something to focus in on and dissect.
Fans should enjoy the bizarre inventiveness
exemplified in the movie’s grotesque makeup and the junk-punk aesthetic of the weaponized
cars and motorcycles. There are other, stranger inclusions such as a character’s
spraying their mouths with silver paint, and a ghoulish slave known only as The
Doof Warrior, who, while chained to the back of a truck lined with a wall of
amplifiers, plays the movie’s score with a double-necked electric guitar/flame
thrower. Even as the movie barrels along there is also something briefly
exhibited and never explained that implies a rich science-fiction tapestry and
history. The world of “Fury Road” is one that is lived in and tangible. Unlike
most modern actioners that are swooned too easily by the convenience of
computer generated spectacle, and whose worlds feel so produced and
overdesigned that they exhaust the audience’s capacity for imagination, Miller
integrates his graphics with weighty, practical effects. Even a massive
sand-storm—the film’s one CGI money-shot—only takes over the frame after a long
build-up that sufficiently earns its inclusion.
Much of the movie’s overwhelming look
comes from the stunning cinematography by John Seale. The desert wasteland
becomes a full-fledged character and perhaps the film’s most severe antagonist.
Like “Dune” and “Star Wars” and the Technicolor westerns they drew their inspiration
from, Seal’s wastelands are bathed in brilliant lighting, sometimes shimmering
like a vast ocean and other times shot with an air of desolation, where even a
tumbleweed couldn’t survive. The landscape’s effecting mood is only enhanced by
artful color-correction that fills the frame with lavish splashes of red and
orange. The film’s small batch of night scenes also contrast nicely with the
warmer tones of the action sequences that dominate the run-time.
Like all good science fiction, audiences
will project whatever political point of view feels most evident to them at the
time. Some of that comes from
intentionality by the filmmakers and some of that will come from the context a
viewer brings with them into the theater. “Fury Road” is a pure, and relatively
simple action movie that has enough political suggestions to pull at that a
person extrapolate something deeper than what is plainly stated in the text.
Some might see a gang of suicide driven murderers who recklessly end their own
lives in collateral destruction so that they might realize a warrior afterlife
and see a middle-east allegory in all of this. Others might see this as a
post-occupy movie, as Immortan Joe hordes his kingdom’s precious water supply from the peasants who
are grateful for whatever generosity he might feel willing to exhibit.
A lot has been written about the feminist
subtext of the film and I’m not going deny that gender sociology plays a big
part in the narrative, but I’m also reluctant to call this an overtly political
movie, as the plot really only serves to function its technicality as a
thrill-ride. There’s been a long tradition in pulp literature regarding strong
Amazonian tribal women, and wild matriarchies, and I think Miller’s story,
while perhaps subverting some of those tropes within a neo-liberal context, is
more interested in exploring those fictional avenues. That said, this film
helps to remind us that there’s nothing wrong with a mindless ride, so long as
it’s as fun and creative as this.
Grade: B+
Originally Published (in part) in the Idaho State Journal/May-2015
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