A Few Thoughts After A First Viewing of Mad Max: Fury Road

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Best of 2015, Charlize Theron, cinema, film reviews, films, first thoughts, George Miller, Mad Max, Mad Max: Fury Road, Movies, Tom Hardy

In almost all cases, I prefer to ruminate on a film before I sit down and try to attempt any manner of critique or discussion. In honor of George Miller’s rule-breaking little film Mad Max: Fury Road, however, I’ve decided to break my self-imposed rules and offer some initial thoughts on the film, straight from my very first viewing (the credits have just finished, as we speak). Keep in mind that, as with any and everything on The VHS Graveyard, these are the thoughts of a very stubborn and obnoxious individual and should, of course, be taken with the utmost caution. In that spirit, then: my initial thoughts:

— There is no better paced action film this year than Fury Road. After thirty minutes of break-neck, ceaseless action, Miller takes a little breath…before going into the next half hour of ceaseless action. It’s the same concept behind the best songs: build to epic proportions…wait…and then…slam the guitar solo in your face. Fury Road is the Pixies song of action films.

— Isn’t it about goddamn time we had an action film that not only featured a kickass female lead but an overtly female focus? This isn’t simply the case of having CT whip ass from one sandstorm to the next (more on that later): this is the case of having a film in a traditionally misogynist genre (I can rib cuz I love) where the female characters are not only not helpless damsels in distress but are active participants in their own salvations. This, friends and neighbors, is not the status quo.

— And while we’re talking about kickass heroes…holy shit…did ya get a load of Furiosa? Effortlessly, casually, leisurely amazing (her quick fix with the wrench is poetry), Theron’s Furiosa is, without a doubt, an iconic character, easily in league with a genre mainstay like Lt. Ripley. It’s tempting to call Hardy the lead, simply because he’s got his name in the title, but take a look at who really moves the machine.

— And what about Hardy? I’ll admit: I’ve never been bonkers on the guy, although I’ve enjoyed him from time to time. Here, his Eastwood (but mumblier) routine is so good it hurts. Or looks like it does, at least. As a total geek for the original trio, it was always gonna be hard to replace Gibson in my head: with Fury Road, Hardy went a long way towards showing me my fears were unfounded. Max Rockatansky: thy name…just might be Tom Hardy, after all!

— The world-building in this is simply stunning. And I mean that in an age where that particular term has probably lost a lot of luster: the world-building is stunning. This isn’t some half-assed “five years in the future,” people in a white office, funny lights on the wall kinda bullshit…this is the real McCoy, Jack! This is the kind of fully immersive world that lets you leave your questions at the door and just live it: there’s so much getting thrown at the screen, at any given point, that’s all but impossible to pick up the details on one viewing (says the guy who’s only seen it once). The fact that there are no easy answers only makes it that more mysterious, leading us into our next point…

— There are no hands held here and no desire, whatsoever, to dumb the film down to fit a modern aesthetic. Need an info dump to keep up? Stay confused, sunshine. Need a preexisting set of characters in order to feel safe within the chaos of a complicated storyline? Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Unlike pretty much every superhero, comic book, fantasy or sci-fi film in recent memory, Miller’s Fury Road doesn’t see fit to hammer audiences with all the pertinent backstory, minutiae, repetitive details and tedious A-B bullshit that they think they need: Miller knows that the film stands on its own and he’s more than happy to let audiences come to it that way or not at all.

The film starts in high gear and only ratchets up from there: any breaks in the action aren’t to allow for needless information downloads (so-and-so is the so-and-so of so-and-so so blah di blah) so much as to give audiences a chance to take a breath and relax for a beat. Same basic idea behind roller-coasters. Most importantly, let Miller be the shot across the bow in a new war on information: audiences don’t have to know every single aspect of a film. Once upon a time, we were allowed to use our imaginations to supplement what we saw: Miller is giving us the greatest gift of all by giving that back to us. We’d be fools not to take it with open arms.

— The effects and actions sequences in Fury Road are so astounding that Miller just throws away sequences that would be centerpieces in other films.  It’s like a car maker saying, “Well, it’s a Stingray but it’s not a Rolls Royce…toss it on the scrap heap.”

— Immortan Joe is a great villain but never really gets the chance to be a truly despicable one, ala Toecutter in the first film. I’m not saying he’s not one totally cool dude, mind you, but I have a feeling the most interesting part of Joe’s tale happened just prior to this film.

— There’s a lot of sensory overload in the film but that axe-rockin’ mutant dude is always gonna be a highlight. That’s what I see whenever I headbang to Maiden.

— This film manages to (inadvertently) make a better version of Dune than the actual film.

— The “blue swamp” scenes (capped by that bit that stomps Sin City into mush) are pretty damn amazing.

— I spent the entire two hours on the edge of my seat. That’s actually a lie: I spend a fair portion of the time standing up, as well.

— In a very full, very rich year of genre cinema, Mad Max: Fury Road still manages to effortlessly rise to the top of the pack. Is it the best film I’ve seen this year? I believe it is. With a week to go, will The Revanant and Hateful Eight top it? To be honest, I’m not sure. They don’t make movies like Fury Road any more. Well, actually, someone does. His name is George Miller and I think he just sent everybody back to square one.

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1/30/15: Toecutter’s Last Jam

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'70s action films, '70s films, A Clockwork Orange, action films, Australia, Australian films, auteur theory, Brian May, children in peril, cinema, co-writers, cops, cult classic, David Bracks, David Cameron, David Eggby, Death Wish, dramas, dystopian future, feature-film debut, Film auteurs, film franchise, film reviews, films, gang rape, gangs of punks, Geoff Parry, George Miller, highway patrol, Hugh Keays-Byrne, iconic villains, James McCausland, Joanne Samuel, law and order, Mad Max, Max Fairchild, Max Rockatansky, Mel Gibson, motorcycle gangs, Movies, Paul Johnstone, post-Apocalyptic, revenge, road movie, Roger Ward, set in Australia, Sheila Florence, Steve Bisley, The Warriors, thrillers, Tim Burns, Toecutter, vendetta, vengeance, vigilante, Vince Gil, writer-director

When George Miller first introduced the world to Max Rockatansky in 1979, I wonder if he could have predicted that the character would be popular enough to warrant reexamination almost 40 years later. With three films in the Mad Max canon and a fourth coming this year, however, it’s pretty clear that Miller’s Australian “Road Angel of Death” has had some serious staying power. While the upcoming Fury Road (2015) appears to follow the template set by latter-day high velocity outings like Road Warrior (1981) and Beyond Thunderdome (1985), the original film, Mad Max (1979), was a much leaner and meaner affair, albeit no less over-the-top and prone to some particular comic-book affectations. Drawing inspiration from sources as diverse as Death Wish (1974) and A Clockwork Orange (1971) while bearing more than a passing resemblance to The Warriors (1979), Miller’s initial outing is a real doozy and one that would go on to influence generations of action and post-apocalyptic films to come.

Kicking off with an epic, 10-minute smash-and-bash car chase between the howling mad Nightrider (Vince Gil) and a group of unfortunate highway patrol officers, we’re thrust into the middle of the action with no info-dump or warning. As things gradually settle down, a bit, we come to discover that this appears to be a rather lawless, possibly post-apocalyptic, society, where cops and criminals duke it out on the dusty highways that stretch across Australia. At first, Nightrider seems unstoppable, a Tazmanian Devil behind the wheel who handily out-runs, out-drives and out-bravados every cop he comes across. Cue our hero, Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson), the coolest, toughest and most badass patrol officer of the bunch. Max shows up, mirrored shades reflecting back the blistering sun, and proceeds to drive Nightrider straight into an early grave. This, ladies and gentlemen, is his business…and business is very, very good.

Max’s partner, Jim Goose (Steve Bisley), is a good egg and loyal as the day is long, while his superior officer, Fifi (Roger Ward), treats Max like royalty and holds him up as shining example for the rest of the officers. At home, we get to see the softer side of Max: his loving wife, Jessie (Joanne Samuel) blows a mean sax and he’s got a cute baby named Sprog. Life seems pretty darn groovy for this Down Under Dirty Harry but there’s big trouble brewin.’

This big trouble arrives in the form of the dastardly Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne) and his marauding biker gang. Seems that the gang has a bone to pick with Max for snuffing out their beloved Nightrider and Toecutter has sworn vengeance, the bloodier the better. When the gang blows into town to retrieve Nightrider’s coffin, they end up trashing the place, ala an old-fashioned Western, and chase a couple out onto the open road where they destroy their car, chase the guy away and gang-rape the young woman. Max and Goose arrive in time to pick up the pieces, finding the chained, traumatized woman and one of the gang members, Johnny (Tim Burns), so drugged-out that he forgot to run away when the others did.

Faster than you can say Dirty Harry (1971), however, the case gets tossed out and Johnny is released because none of the victims, including the young woman, will come forward to testify. Johnny walks, after taunting the cops, and Goose is furious. When the gang ambushes and attacks Goose in a particularly terrible way, however, Max will have to decide which path to follow, the one that leads to his family or the one that leads to revenge. As Toecutter, his cold-blooded lieutenant, Bubba (Geoff Parry), and the rest of the gang get closer and closer to Max, they will learn one very important lesson: you can do a lot of things to Max Rockatansky but the last thing you wanna do is get the guy mad.

Despite the often grim subject matter (children in peril, rape, collapsing society) and the often intense violence (immolations, dismemberments, semi driving over people), there’s a sense of buoyancy and energy to Mad Max that makes the whole thing a lot closer to a comic-book movie like RoboCop (1987) than to something more serious like, say, The Road (2009) or The Rover (2014). In addition, Miller uses several techniques, such as the wipe transitions between scenes and the jaunty score (courtesy of Australian composer Brian May) that help to elevate this sense of action-adventureism. To be honest, Mad Max often feels like a synthesis of Lethal Weapon (1987) (not specifically because of Gibson’s involvement but more for the depictions of Max’s home-life and the way in which the film’s action constantly toes the “silly/awesome” dividing line) and A Clockwork Orange (the gang’s affectations, slang and Toecutter’s casual brutality all reminded me explicitly of Kubrick’s adaptation), as odd as that may sound.

While never completely serious, aside from the film’s handful of heartstring-pullers, Mad Max never tips all the way over into campy or silly. This isn’t quite the novelty of The Warriors: Toecutter’s gang has an actual air of menace to them, an air that’s not helped by their propensity for rape and assault on innocent civilians. Keays-Byrne is marvelous as the insane gang leader, easily going down as one of the most memorable villains in these type of films: his polite, slightly foppish mannerisms are completely off-set by his hair-trigger barbarity, making for a bracing combination. Nearly as memorable is Geoff Parry’s turn as Bubba Zanetti: his laconic delivery perfectly contrasts with his hot-headed personality making for a character who would’ve been perfect going up against Clint Eastwood in a spaghetti Western.

In fact, more than anything, Mad Max is like a spaghetti Western, albeit one filtered through all of the influences listed above. The interplay between the gang members, between Max and his superiors, between the law and the lawless…the setpieces that could have easily been chases on horseback or wagon…the lonesome, wide-open devastation of the Australian landscape…Sergio Leone might have been proud to call any of them his own.

As one of his first roles, Mad Max set a course for Mel Gibson’s career that would serve him quite well, right up to the point in time where he self-detonated it. Here, however, we get Mel before the headlines, stupidity and career suicide: he’s rock-solid as Rockatansky, bringing just enough vulnerability and indecision to the role to prevent him from ever seeming as completely callous as someone like Eastwood’s Harry Callahan. He also brings a physicality to the role that helps make the whole enterprise seem that much more authentic: Gibson’s performance is so “all-in” that the scene where he limps and drags himself down the pavement genuinely looks like it hurts like hell. It would be the easiest thing in the world to play Max like a video game character but it’s to Gibson’s immense credit that he makes him both so human and so completely badass: it’s easy to see why this became a franchise so quickly, as the magnetism is undeniable.

In some ways, the differences between Mad Max and its predecessors is the same as the difference between the first two Alien or Terminator films: Mad Max is more of a small-scale revenge drama (very similar to Death Wish, particularly in the final reel) whereas the films that followed it are more wide-screen, adventure epics. Despite this, however, I was genuinely surprised to note how honestly cartoonish the film is. Perhaps I picked up on this when I watched the film in the past but it was more apparent now than ever before that the first film fits in perfectly well with the more OTT vibe of the other films. While it may be smaller scale, it’s definitely of a piece with The Road Warrior and Beyond Thunderdome: Toecutter would have fit in nicely in either of those.

With Fury Road on the horizon, I thought it might be useful to go back and revisit the film that started it all. As always, Mad Max doesn’t disappoint: from the rousing action setpieces, astounding car chases, cool-as-a-cucumber lead character, colorful villains and genuine sense of danger and tension, Mad Max is an absolute blast from start to finish. Here’s to hoping that Miller manages to maintain this classic feel with his newest: the world has been without a Rockatansky for way too long now…we need our Mad Max now more than ever.