Saturday, May 16, 2015

Mad Max: Fury Road


I've never watched a movie in the theater by myself. But this week, I was filled with a strange sense of rage and loser-feelings. I was convinced that I had zero friends because I could get none of them to hang out with me. And when some friends would make plans, I'd refuse them because the neurons in my brain would defuse and pop and crackle and send signals to headquarters and then it would make my vocal chords emit something that sounded like "NO".

So here began my quest for:
Things To Do When You Have No Friends.

"Go watch a movie alone!" was a common theme among the results that popped up as I Googled it.

Here's the conversation between me and My Inner Self Filled With Rage Due to Loser Feelings.

Me: Watch a movie in the theater all by myself?? That's such a loser thing to do!
My Inner Self Filled With Rage Due to Loser Feelings: Do you mean to say that you aren't a loser?
Me: Well, I am a loser. But that doesn't mean that I should do loser things!
MISFWRDLF: You're a fucking loser and I hereby order you to do loser things. In fact I'm making a list of loser things I want you to do. Googling "List of loser things" didn't yield the results I wanted but I know I'll get there.
Me: Hmmm
MISFWRDLF: Don't "Hmmm" me! Losers Hmmm! Oh, wait. Do that. Let me add that to my Loser List. Wait, what were we talking about?
Me: Watching a movie.
MISFWRDLF: Yeah, go watch that movie or I'll pick some stupid brain-dead Hindi crap and make you watch it.
Me: Please don't do that. I'll go watch a movie in the theater.
MISFWRDLF: Good. Go do your loser stuff, you loser.

So there I was, with my 3D glasses, marinating in my loser feelings. Watching Mad Max.


Proceed with caution: Because spoilers. But no loser feelings anymore. They're there but not ahead in this post.

Mad Max. Mad Max! Here I was, a lone woman, scanning the crowd. Mostly male, with a sprinkling of girls who were accompanying their boyfriends.

I was reveling in the strangeness of it, I hate action. I hate desert scenes.  And here I was, watching a post apocalyptic action movie set in a dusty, gritty desert-like landscape.

The plot is fairly straightforward. The story feels organic, the series of events progress naturally. Somehow, even the weirdness woven in seems natural. Mad Max being used as a "Blood Bag" for Vux, a white-hued weird character who is a "War Boy" doesn't seem strange in this land. The director George Miller doesn't use the standard Hollywood action movie trope. There are no damsels in distress, nor is a hero out to save her (Can one call the five wives of bad guy "Immortan Joe" as damsels in distress if the hero is female? Can one call them damsels if they're actively trying to escape from Joe's clutches?) No explicit "message". No eye candy. Well, the five wives sure are pretty to look at, but they're bad-ass too.

Another surprise: Mad Max wasn't about Mad Max at all. Max was simply the guy who said very little (well, everyone in the movie ration their words) barring for grunts. It should have been called Ferocious Feminist (gasp! I used the F-word!) Furiosa or something.

The thumping metal rock background score definitely deserves a mention. To call it a background score would be wrong, though. There was a guy with a flame-throwing guitar, suspended to a contraption embedded with amplifiers. And drums as accompaniment. Because every warring maniac needs a travelling rock band with guitar flame-throwers to get the adrenaline pumping. Of course.

The dusty, gritty landscape was a sight to behold. Delicious, chewy grit. Mmmm.

And of course, the mad machines! As eccentric and weird as the drivers themselves! Rickety, yet mean and powerful. Every scene was a fight scene. My favorite was when the War Boys are attached to the end of javelin-like structures, balanced with a weight on the other end so that they can swoop down on the enemy. Like bait at the end of a fishing rod. Bait that's going to beat the crap out of you.

Oh what a day. What a lovely day to watch this movie.

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