Most Americans upon seeing a 15-second commercial for some new dirt-storm, four-wheeled, perhaps racing? or escaping? gaudy, kinda scary-lookin’, possibly Charlize Theron starring? summer blockbuster movie titled Mad Max: Fury Road, shouldn’t be blamed for sighing “Is this a Death Race thing?” or “More Fast and the Furious rip-offs huh?” Even I, upon just a brief Wikipedia browsing, realized I had much to learn about this Somewhat-peeved Maximilian.
For instance, there are already two sequels to the original Mad Max (1979): Mad Max 2: Road Warrior(1981)(presumably Weekend Warrior was taken) and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome(1985)(all-time great ’80s action movie title). In addition, these are Australian films, not American films set in Australia but filmed in a place in Arizona that looks kinda like Australia. American audiences slurped up these V8 movies and helped make them a lot of Dingos, or whatever they call money down there; nonetheless, they were shot in Australia, by an Australian director, with an Australian cast.
A clean-cut, unemotive Mel Gibson plays Max (Mel grew up in Westchester County, New York until the age of 12 when he moved to Sydney). That’s right, a baby-faced Mel, unaware of the evils of The Jews and presumably unenchanted with the violence of the Christ. Mel is so innocent looking in this film, that it’s almost hard to imagine him developing into the unhinged monster we see today. But in retrospect, his strangely aloof and sometimes awkward performance in this movie now seems like a red flag for ‘Insane Person Inside Syndrome.’
Nevertheless, I watched the very first Mad Max. And I must say, time has not done it any favors. It didn’t do itself any favors either, with a meandering plot, seemingly disjointed scenes, chaotic pacing, and just fucking strange acting. I say strange acting because some of these scenes include such bizarre facial expressions that it’s hard for me to imagine a director allowing them if it wasn’t for some comedic or surreal effect. But by far the most egregiously improbable element of this movie is how everyone just willingly wears leather pants in the heat of the Australian Outback, I mean c’mon. The whole film felt like an uncomfortable acid trip inside of a Hot Wheels play-set. But I digress, I’m going to give you the viewer’s digest of this film, to spare you.
4:48 – Big surprise, the film starts off with a car chase. One of the Main Force Patrol (these are the good guys) aka The Police in dystopian Australia, spins out. Chubby cop kicks his fucked-up hood and tosses it on the ground in frustration, like a child. This is what I imagine parallel universe Dukes of Hazzard is like.
They’re chasing a guy called “Nightrider” (no, not that Knight Rider) who is maniacally laughing as he drives with his pink-haired, Hot-Topic girlfriend alongside him.
6:22 – This cop, who is Mel Gibson’s best friend and known as “The Goose” (no, not that Goose), just did a hood-slide-somersault with a burger in his mouth at an establishment proudly called “FAT NANCY’S”. Rooting for this guy for now.
7:34 – Remember Twisted Metal on the original Playstation.
12:12 – *takes sunglasses off* Mel Gibson has arrived. Somehow any haircut on him looks sorta like a mullet.
Mel Gibson plays a game of chicken with Nightrider and wins. This doesn’t cause Nightrider to crash, but instead have a spontaneous mental breakdown for I guess, having been bested? Then he crashes and dies.
16:06 – Just a couple-a mates walkin’ around with apples in their mouth. 
NOTE: this is not the only scene that, partially due to irresponsible amounts of leather, seems like it could be the start of a totally different kind of movie.
21:01 – Are these the scary outlaw villains of Mad Max OR a punk rock Frank Zappa cover band OR the kids in high school who wore Misfits t-shirts all grown up?
The head Misfit (that’s what I’m calling them), seen above having his hair preened by his apprentice Johnny the Boy, is known as The Toecutter. However, he does not so much as reference a toe throughout the films’ entirety. So, beats me.
22:12 – Sons-of-Anarchy Eminem has no sense of humor when it comes to the passing of the N I G H T R I D E R. 
46:16 – “The Goose” is trapped in a bizarro world version of that scene from Crash, except I like this one better because it doesn’t try to redeem a racist sexual-assaulter. “The Goose” dies 😦
50:37 – Chief of Police Charles-Bronson-biopic Ron Perlman is watering his plants whilst smoking a cigar. He’s wearing no shirt, but instead a long scarf, several silver chain necklaces, and leather pants. 
A distraught Mel Gibson quits the force compelling The Most Interesting Male Stripper in the World to give an impassioned speech. Mel leaves anyway. Favorite line from this scene: What is this, funny week?
53:12 – Montage of Mel and his perky, overall-donning girlfriend Jessie riding out into the country. Mel does the worst faux-talk in recorded history and for almost 10 seconds he looks like he’s trying to pop his ears after a long flight.
Along their way they buy a dog from an old man who lives across from a BP refinery.
57:49 – Misfit outlaws are doing Vinyasa yoga on the beach when Jessie rolls up to a nearby ice cream shop. Meanwhile Mel is getting a tire fixed at the mechanic down the street. One misfit problematically proclaims: My favorite kind: Female
Jessie knees The Toecutter in the balls and smooshes her ice cream into his face. As she escapes, one misfit tries to lasso her vehicle with a chain and just ends up having his hand literally ripped off and dragged away. His name is Cundalini.
1:07:20 – Again Jessie leaves Mel (so stupid), this time going to catch some rays at the beach (really?!). So of course, she finds herself being chased by the Misfits, where she 1) quite literally and arbitrarily runs into 2 pigeons (???) and 2) is startled by the local, giggling, Lenny Small. 
Mel’s response is to tell some octogenarian to call “The Dark One”(??) and then run off into the woods with a shotgun. (The Dark One never comes and isn’t mentioned again.) Jessie realizes that she and her husband have been like, totally neglecting their baby, Sprog, who was last seen by their weird Griswoldian spaceship wagon playing with a beach ball. (BTW I’m still coming to terms with the fact that parents ‘Max’ and ‘Jessie’ would name their child ‘Sprog’)
1:13:19 – The hero the Outback deserves, but not the one it needs right now.
Jessie, the old lady, and Sprog leave without Mel after warding off the misfits with a couple of shotgun shells. The wagon breaks down and Jessie goes running down the road with Sprog. The Misfits blow by the old lady on their motorcycles and then do something(??) to Jessie and Sprog as they go by. It’s never clear how they injure Jessie and Sprog in the split-second the Misfits speed past them.
1:15:19 – At a hospital, Sprog is nonchalantly pronounced D.O.A. The doctors then rattle off Jessie’s graphic injuries to each other like it’s water-cooler fodder, stating that they “read off like a grocery list.” Mad Mel, discreetly enraged, leaves. 
1:29:49 – Mad Mel is finally Mad, and he won’t settle for anything less than comprehensive retribution. After some dueling that leaves Mad Mel with a bullet in the MCL, Toecutter unceremoniously crashes into an 18-wheeler. And for the final act Johnny the Boy, the man responsible for Goose’s death, is placed in a 127 Hours dilemma. 
1:30:22 – FIN.
Well, there you have it folks. Consider yourselves read-up and prepared for the splendor that awaits you on Fury Road. Or at least partially; because to be fair: the sequels are better. They have more of the sandstorm-go-kart-insane-asylum aesthetic that the Fury Road trailers mean to allure you with. They’re fun to look at and they create an, at the very least, cinematically unique universe. While still loosely plotted and riddled with self-assured cheesiness, they’re darker and contain more impressive action sequences. It’s pure-bred 80’s escapism with a demented down-under twist. And they’re all quick too, with the longest of the three going just over 100 minutes. The perfect length and kind of trilogy to binge-watch with some friends on a couch, intaking excessive exploit and carnage until one of you buys ass-less chaps and prefers to be called like, I don’t know – Gargonus.
The Post-Academy 