Mad Max: Fury Road

What a film. What a lovely film.

It’s been exactly 30 years since George Miller delivered his last genius blend of psycho-apocalyptic anarchy and mesmerizing bleakness. A visionary cinematic landscape of dust, mayhem, religious zealots, and carmageddon all in the name of Earth’s waning resources. Sure, he’s the director behind Babe: Pig in the City, Happy Feet and Happy Feet 2, but doesn’t that kind of kill the buzz surrounding this epic of horsepower and carnage?

Fury Road isn’t quite a movie as much as an immersive experience. From the throaty engine starting behind the opening credits, until the climactic finale, there is hardly time for a pit stop. We meet Max (Tom Hardy) standing in a barren landscape speaking more words in his monologue than in the whole rest of the movie. He’s lost everything that he loves, and now his life is simply about survival. Not even a full minute into the film and we have a group of bandits who capture him and cage him like an animal and make him a blood donor for the gonzo cult leader, Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). It’s not long before he’s tied up to the front of a car with a transfusion going to the driver, Nux (Nicholas Hoult), who does an incredible job personifying the blind devotion that he and the countless nameless minions have to Joe. It’s religious at its core, with nods to Viking lore and references to Valhalla, but it’s also a convenient explanation for the berserk disciples who sacrifice themselves without a second thought, with dreams of a jihadi afterlife. The chase begins, to catch Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), a war rig driver who commandeers the truck with the cargo of Joe’s bevy of beautiful slave/breeder wives. They cross the wastelands looking for “the green place” but really the whole plot is an excuse for horsepower and explosions. And then more horsepower and more explosions. The viewer is given a peek inside the mind of the preposterous George Miller with men jumping from car to car, tossing explosive spears, dirt bike jumps, chainsaw-wielding swinging stunt men, and demolition derby carnage. It amps up as the film goes on to a roaring crescendo, and when the dust settles, you’re left feeling like a Nascar racer who just ran out of gas.

One or two bloggers and self-proclaimed movie critics have slandered the film for its alleged blatant and even gratuitous feminism. Hogwash. Make no mistake, Charlize Theron is the star of this film and Tom Hardy’s Mad Max plays second fiddle, but it is calculated. Max met the right woman, and what better plot than the five wives of the evil ruler running away and being chased to the ends of the earth by the desperate husband? It shows vulnerability and strength. It’s genius.

George Miller is the reason that Mad Max: Fury Road even exists. The creator of the original Mad Max trilogy (and our introduction to a 23 year old Australian named Mel Gibson) created a cult following, and arguably the mainstreaming of a genre that has spawned numerous successful films over the years. There’s something a bit more authentic to Miller’s take however, and nothing quite compares to his unique unmatched style.

Fury Road has its flaws. It is absurd, drags on a bit too long without much beyond quirky characters and high octane super-vehicles exploding, jumping, flipping, and traversing an endless desert leaving the mother of all dust clouds in its wake. But it’s cool. It’s a breath of fresh air even though it’s the resurrection of a franchise that has been waiting to be brought back from the dead for 30 years. Only time will tell if George Miller has any gas left in his tank for another go round.

Mad Max: Fury Road is something different, and it is cool. It is the first true hit of the summer, and it’s about time. 9/10.