I feel oddly isolated in my lukewarm experience of Mad Max: Fury Road. I took it in second-run this week in a packed house with a quite enthusiastic audience, including my boyfriend, who, after the show, unprompted but conscious of both my predilections and peeves, asked with a resigned sigh, “Did you hate it?”
“No,” I answered, “but I didn’t like it.”
I have a sense that I was the only one streaming out of that theater feeling decidedly indifferent to Mad Max: Fury Road.
I’ll concede the film magnificently rolls out relentless action, badass characters, badder-ass vehicles, and breathtaking stunts throughout its two-hour car chase, yet through all the frenetic thrill, I, in my advancing middle age and tendency toward rumination, was left wondering, “Is that all there is? Is that all there is to a post-apocalyptic blockbuster?”
Part of my disillusionment stems from the glut of grim apocalypses set upon cinema since the millennia began. What sort of desperation at world’s end have I yet to see? Mad Max director George Miller must sense the fatigue Read the rest of this entry »