If you are the type of movie-goer who likes a relaxed, respectable film, which you can get up and use the washroom halfway through because you drank a large soda to yourself, then Mad Max isn't for you. If you're sixty-five years old and have back problems and arthritis, and your knees ache if you sit for too long, then this isn't for you either. If you get up and leave the theater for even three minutes, you will guarantee miss something. Fury Road roars at an unflagging pace, every sixty seconds another chain in the link is cut or blown off and a new chase or stunt is set into motion. I have a bad knee, and it locked up and ached halfway through, and I didn't get up like some whiny, weak twat to go and stretch it. I drank a large vanilla coke and had to take a piss for an hour and a half through the movie, but I didn't get up like some pussy to relieve myself – I was ready to burst in my pants and spray the row in front of me with a golden shower. And if you're sixty-five years old and think it's too loud of a movie for you, then get a new excuse, George Miller (the director) is seventy.
For the first twenty minutes of Mad Max, you hardly have time to stop and ask yourself what you're watching. In fact, you can't even speak. Your senses are constantly being assaulted with the sensory equivalent of comic books' onomatopoeia WHAM-SMACK-CRUNCH-BOOM-POW! In that blaring silence, a feeling takes hold of you that everything in this world is absolutely mental. Literally, everyone is a maniac whose minds have been broken. And if you can envision yourself in that world, it's hard to imagine that you would retain your sanity. Explosions, screaming, a flaming guitar player, it all takes the ridiculous to the furthest extreme imaginable, and it doesn't shy away from the insanity until the closing credits.
Although, if you want to look at it from a simplistic point of view, the movie is essentially one long car chase, with stunts, explosions and deaths aplenty. The plot is as simple as they come, but this isn't a bad thing. It works well, so long as you have an understanding going in that that's all it is. This is also the movie's only downfall – if you think the same way I do. Mad Max works for what it is, but there's nothing to it beyond a glorified car chase. It is the most blockbuster chase that I've ever seen, granted, but in my opinion, a movie that earns a 10/10 rating has several, at times overlapping components that it's doing masterfully well, not just one.
The acting, though Charlize Theron has been praised, I found merely adequate. By no means am I saying it's bad, but it was an action movie, and the action is what sold people at the box office, not how well a one-armed girl could cry, or how much Tom Hardy was capable of communicating in as little words as possible.
I like to keep my reviews short, so I will leave you with this: unless you are one of those nincompoops that I described at the beginning of the review, you will enjoy Mad Max, hands down. It's electrifying, exhilarating, heart-pounding, and every other adjective you can think of. You get a glimpse into a world that you hope ours will never become, one in which people worship insanity and love as we know it has been buried deep in the dry desert sands. Was this movie a masterpiece? No, I don't think so. But it possessed brilliance in its madness, and will leave you feeling like you witnessed something truly original, and certainly something worth talking about.