Tag: mad max fury road

Ten times to see Mad Max: Fury Road. It was still playing at the same little cinema pub from most of the viewings. I went there for the final showing.

I wasn’t expecting much. I was as interested in this as I was in a reboot of RoboCop or Total Recall.

They started with a badass chase, which was always reserved for the end of the movie. I thought they blew it.

Then it became nothing but the chase. What? You can’t do that.

Then they went back to where they started! You can’t do that either.

So I saw it, done. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it after the first viewing. Weeks later, alone and done with errands on a Sunday, I decided to watch a movie. Everything else looked uninteresting. I went back again and it felt more breathy. Like something I inhaled deeply and let out until I’m empty. I’m aware it’s a movie, images and sound. What’re you gonna do, you know? I went back again, and later again, and so on. I watched this movie a lot. If the summer of 2015 was anything, it was the summer of Fury Road.

That face Max makes when the wives rush Nux and scream about breeding stock and battle fodder. He looks surprised. “What’s their problem?” He’s confounded. I don’t know feminist theory but I get that moment, that, “What’s their problem? What’s their deal?”

My eighth viewing was supposed to be the last, but the sound was horrible at this one other movie theater. Something felt off from the beginning. It lacked a certain kick in the chest. I figured out that the channel that plays the music for the really big moments (the sand storm, for one) wasn’t playing at all. My guess is they didn’t have all the speakers they needed for a proper theater experience. And it didn’t sound wrong, not at first. It just felt wrong. So I couldn’t allow that to be the last experience.

I have this in mind because as much as I love this movie, I can’t say why. No explanation. I could sit here and list aspects of the film that appeal to me based on appreciation for the Western mythos bla bla bla, but it wouldn’t capture the feeling of it. No set of words ever does except those things that just happen to come out of you as an extension of feeling. It felt like a good movie. I wanted to see it again. Absorb more of it and not explain why. Just be there. Is that escapist? Am I running? Do I see some familiar aspect of life in the endless fleeing? I didn’t think those things. I just watched. I waited for music and for cuts to closeups of Furiosa and Max. I could see them coming in my mind.

Ten times to see Mad Max: Fury Road. It was still playing at the same little cinema pub from most of the viewings. I went there for the final showing.

I wasn’t expecting much. I was as interested in this as I was in a reboot of RoboCop or Total Recall.

They started with a badass chase, which was always reserved for the end of the movie. I thought they blew it.

Then it became nothing but the chase. What? You can’t do that.

Then they went back to where they started! You can’t do that either.

So I saw it, done. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it after the first viewing. Weeks later, alone and done with errands on a Sunday, I decided to watch a movie. Everything else looked uninteresting. I went back again and it felt more breathy. Like something I inhaled deeply and let out until I’m empty. I’m aware it’s a movie, images and sound. What’re you gonna do, you know? I went back again, and later again, and so on. I watched this movie a lot. If the summer of 2015 was anything, it was the summer of Fury Road.

That face Max makes when the wives rush Nux and scream about breeding stock and battle fodder. He looks surprised. “What’s their problem?” He’s confounded. I don’t know feminist theory but I get that moment, that, “What’s their problem? What’s their deal?”

My eighth viewing was supposed to be the last, but the sound was horrible at this one other movie theater. Something felt off from the beginning. It lacked a certain kick in the chest. I figured out that the channel that plays the music for the really big moments (the sand storm, for one) wasn’t playing at all. My guess is they didn’t have all the speakers they needed for a proper theater experience. And it didn’t sound wrong, not at first. It just felt wrong. So I couldn’t allow that to be the last experience.

I have this in mind because as much as I love this movie, I can’t say why. No explanation. I could sit here and list aspects of the film that appeal to me based on appreciation for the Western mythos bla bla bla, but it wouldn’t capture the feeling of it. No set of words ever does except those things that just happen to come out of you as an extension of feeling. It felt like a good movie. I wanted to see it again. Absorb more of it and not explain why. Just be there. Is that escapist? Am I running? Do I see some familiar aspect of life in the endless fleeing? I didn’t think those things. I just watched. I waited for music and for cuts to closeups of Furiosa and Max. I could see them coming in my mind.