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.