Mad Max: Fury Road
A high-speed, heavy-metal, near-perfect genre movie.
From the start, there was an unmistakable, ruthless clarity of purpose embedded in this film (its priorities — action, speed, madness, righteousness, aggression; themes explored in pure form). The approach was exciting; decisive, strong, and unwavering in its stripped-down, linear direction. The film was also thoroughly imaginative, with a decidedly weird visual language (an uncommonly frenzied speed of images; non-smooth camera moves; wild motion of writhing bodies within a frame).
Director George Miller’s vision of a dystopian, barren, mostly hopeless future was impressively coherent; still, the presentation of the world did not upstage the lean plot. Side ideas were pretty horrific, if standard for a genre — people as disposable donors (of blood, milk etc.), biological breeders, slaves; the human colony with an uneven distribution of goods, strict rationing of water (Do not become addicted to water —a phrase used in the movie; a truly mind-boggling concept). It appears that in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, people go back to basics — the behavior of actors (main, supportive, background) was primal and over-the-top. Ubiquitous white-painted guys (war boys) behaved like animals (they didn’t even mind suicidal acts of bravery — Witness me); it’s hard to know where such behavior could come from (in contemporary societies, perhaps only performing dancers move and pose like that). Strikingly, they had a habit of using their mouths to turbocharge moving vehicles with guzzoline (OMG!).
The overall film aesthetic resembled something of a biker culture, with a hardcore spin (not only because the monstrous automobiles played a major part in the picture). The built world (its culture, logic, hidden mythology) was eloquent, and more than a backdrop to the essential action. You sensed that every vehicle, prop and costume were carefully considered — production design went through-the-roof. So it seems that in the future, out of necessity, everyone recycles — cars, clothes and tools are constantly being tinkered with, repurposed and customized. Particularly astonishing was the scene of readying up the boss (Immortan Joe) for a speech to be given to the people of Citadel, cladding him with a translucent body vest; its transparent glamour was undeniable. Immortan and Mad Max had a shared penchant for masks — Tom Hardy’s head piece (worn during the first portion of the movie) made him near-unwatchable in the beginning. The muzzle immediately made you think of Hardy’s other face-accessorized turn, as Bane in The Dark Knight Rises. When the story allowed Hardy’s face to resurface and finally be made use of, he got the chance to shine in his disgruntled, taciturn role. His tight-lipped manner was rather forced, with its fussily economic use of language and non-longuistic vocalizations; his reserve contrasted with a fervent motor action of which he was capable in a plenty of fight sequences and beyond.
The more central role belonged— arguably — to Charlize Theron, as almost bald-headed and one-armed Imperator Furiosa (a truly mood-setting name for this über-tough woman). Her primal fight to near-death, when she first encountered Mad Max (stranded on the desert), was splendidly choreographed. The sequence underscored how much their survivalist relationship will evolve in the course of the movie. Furiosa was trafficking a bunch of girls (enslaved wives of Immortan) in her big truck. Five upscale young women they were; apparently the only creatures on earth who still shower and take care of their bodies. They were a vibrant addition to the film’s world, as their personalities varied (pregnant, imperious boss — Rosie Huntington-Whiteley; hot chick — Courtney Eaton; insane witch — Abbey Lee; romantic redhead — Riley Keough; tough/regular chick — Zoë Kravitz). They enlivened the show beyond the grimness of the movie’s main heroes. Seeing them for the first time, while they were sprinkling their attracitve bodies with water and unshackling their chastity belts — out in the toxic wasteland for the first time — was a funny moment of culture clash realized. Other protagonists included a way-beyond-mad, fanatic zombie (Nicholas Hoult; he did play the same character in Warm Bodies), a colossally muscled minion (called Rictus Erectus), and, of course, an awesome flamethrower guitar player, dressed all in red. Seen were also Vuvulani, a warrior tribe of mamas, who love to kill riding on motorcycles.
Cinematography was heavily processed in post-production (notice the huge difference between production stills and the actual look of the film); hues were non-too-subtly saturated (rich yellows and oranges in sunny, rocky desert conditions; extremely deep blue tones at night), but the color grading clicked with the movie’s hyperreal, insane, energized feel. CGI work (esp. the radioactive storm), and practical stunts (all over the movie) were pretty wild, too. The music was apocalyptic, pleasantly abrasive and unrelenting, in unison with the prescribed manic style of the movie. The film worked on so many levels. It was old-school yet modern in its equal-opportunity assortment of action heroes; intentionally simple (essentially a one long convoy chase through the desert) but not silly in its freedom-loving message.
