With the Oscars closing in, it’s time to look at this year’s most unconventional Best Picture nominee: Mad Max: Fury Road. James McCoull and Errol Kerr engage in life-or-death vehicular combat as our mega fan and giant cynic respectively; will James find his Green Place, or will Errol send him to the gates of Valhalla?
A truly good action film only comes about once in a lifetime – like a comet, or a world war, or seeing the bouncing DVD player icon slot right into the corner of the screen – and when it does we owe it to ourselves to appreciate it. Mad Max: Fury Road is that action film.
With rich, interesting characters who are fleshed out without compromising their abundant cool factor, stunts that would make Evil Kenevil flinch (and none of them faked, either) and the fucking Doof Warrior, there’s really no opposition to this. Fury Road is a two-hour adrenaline rush in the purest sense, but neatly dodges the vapidity of other films of its kind with fascinating themes and characters you can root for. It’s fun, fast, and thrilling, and I will smash down the doors of Valhalla with the skulls of anyone who says otherwise. Witness.
Iwon’t lie, I do like Mad Max: Fury Road. However, I expected far more from the wonderful reboot of the franchise.
The storyline was set on the back foot for the purposes of action alone, with both our protagonists and antagonists seeming quite empty – Immortan Joe didn’t exist as more than a placeholder villain in Perspex body armour. I was more than pleased with the multitude of empowered female characters, however their varied personalities were not expanded upon, leaving me wanting more from the women I was given. Who was Furiosa’s mother? What power did the Many Mothers have? What truly happened to the Green Place? We’ll never know. To top off, where’s the completely ridiculous bits? Where’s the Fury Road equivalent of Tina Turner turning up on your big screen as Aunty Entity, belting out We Don’t Need Another Hero? There isn’t one. Bring back Tina, George Miller.