I saw Mad Max: Fury Road in the theaters and thought it was just okay. Maybe because it was hyped up so much, my expectations were high. It was supposed to be this brilliant feminist manifesto and George Miller demanded x, y, and that the bunjee guitar guys guitar work for real so it's super duper amazing!
I thought maybe it would be better on rewatch. I generally like movies with odd settings and beautiful cinematography with meandering stories. Nope. Not this one It was still a series of pretty paintings with little story. Imperator Furiosa was either sad or angry. Sad face scene. Angry face scene. Sad face scene. Despair face scene. Angry face scene with violence. I never cared about any of the characters. The old women were badass and seemed more developed. Nicholas Hoult's character was interesting, but that's about it. It was nice and different to have a movie without the male/female leads being romantically involved, but, even after reading the reviews about the great symbolism of Max giving Furiosa his blood without having being given anything in return, blah, blah, blah, I still wasn't moved.
Out of the Blockbusters I saw that summer (The Martian, Mission: Impossible Rogue Nation, Mad Max: Fury Road, Furious 7), Mad Max was my least favorite. I caught American Ultra and Spy On Demand later on and those movies were also more entertaining and, hell, even more thoughtful. Maybe one day I'll be cool enough to like this kind of cool movie. But today was not that day.
No comments:
Post a Comment