There was a moment when my jaw literally dropped watching a stunt sequence that made me cringe. I was feeling the vivacious dread and adrenalin explosion of the stunt men riding down a hollow red gloomy mountain top, bikes hurling and screaming in despair.
Mad Max: Fury Road was an intense, unexpected experience. A kaleidoscopic imagery wrapped around a dystopic universe, in a strange, poetic world powered by mechanical, distorted vehicles. I watch action movies a lot, but this one must be the best in the genre, all blazing with infuriating passion, intense emotion and apologetically superb soundtrack. George Miller is 70 now and not entirely fond of the modern Hollywood cliches machine but he delivered a gradually explosive spectacle tinted in red and orange that feels so different from the current action movie norm.
The use of stunts is so refreshing and pumps life and meaning into a frenzy of car chases that populates the strange yet immersive universe created by the beautiful mind of the director. The plot is simple, yet powerful and had to be so to account for the lyricism of the story. The whole movie is an exhausted allegory drenched in gasoline and flames. The perfect villain robbed of his meaning chases through the ashes of a ruined world his due accompanied by battalions of distorted cars and screaming kamikazes, all tuned to a flame of futuristic sounds.
There is no real hero only gleaming hope that stands as a darken illusion to eat at lesser souls but in the end redemption is met with symphonic cadence. But the true power of this masterpiece is in its photographic insane motion, a colorful vertigo of screaming matter and little dialogue, a perfectly harmonious chaos dripping from the screen in incredulous symmetric pulsation.
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Floyd Mayweather is a sublime boxer, weaving his defensive art inside the ring with unparalleled tactical ease and fluidity. He is sharp, intelligent, accurate and strong. He beat Manny Pacquiao over 12 conclusive rounds, escaping the little Filipino’s massive combinations and finding his target while covering from the most powerfull power punches.
But Floyd Mayweather will never be a true boxing champion. Here’s why:
- A true champion has a dimension to his personality that commands respect and awe. Mayweather is disrespectful, dishonest, rigid and negative.
- A true champion respects the sport of boxing and understand the true dimension of being a champion. A true champion takes the fight to his opponent even if his style is defensive. Floyd has never dine that against elite opposition. He was always on the ropes, waiting to counterpunch. He’s a defensive genius but this is not enough to be a true great
- A true champion doesn’t contend himself with his skills. He always tries to surpass them and add a new flavor to it. Boxing is not only about good defending it is also about aggression and speed and beautiful weaving combinations. If we respect defensive skills (and we should) we should also respect offensive ones. Floyd doesn’t and is too afraid to step in embrace the dark side.
- A true champion is about passion. A 48-0 record is great, but it doesn’t tell the story of passion and emotion. Think about the epicness of Gatti fights, or Sugar Ray’s or Cesar Chaves or Pacquiao’s. Those were champions ready to sacrifice for their sport, ready to expose themselves. A loss may be your way to greatness if you are powerful enough to risk it. Floyd never risked it. He handpicked his opponents, always on his terms and always well pass their prime. This is safeness not greatness
- A true champion is a model outside his sport. Floyd it is not. Think about Ali, Foreman, Sugar Ray and other inspiring icons. They inspire others. Floyd doesn’t
He may be one of the finest defensive champions of the sport, but his negative approach, his fear and his disrespect destroyed every possible chance he had to be a true great.
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