Mad Max


The Mel Gibson-bashing continueth! Maybe I’ve seen Mad Max. Maybe not. I can’t tell the difference anymore. Here is my review.

Mad Max is a cult hit. That is to say, Mad Max is a film starring a high-profile member of a global religious cult who should be hit with heavy objects. The eponymous hero is a confused loon who drives his rumping automobile up and down the highway in search of justice, and, while he’s at it, some wild Ballardian autoerotic automotive action. Sadly, young Max achieves neither and instead moons around the Australian landscape like a fat, unloved pubescent at a high-school prom.

One day a gang of hooting spanner-jackals who call themselves ‘The Devil’s Mufftops’ butcher Max’s special lady. He howls at the clouds and punches himself in the pockets. He picks up a hare and screams into its alarmed face. He points at the viewer and scowls, unsettlingly. He climbs inside a wind tunnel and is blown about like an angry flannel. Sadly, none of this provides him with a sufficient degree of catharsis. So Max gets mad. Awful mad. Or, as the Aussies say: ‘cobbin’ bladdy looners, mate’, on account of their under-developed capacity for producing meaningful utterances.

The film ends with Max firing himself, in the manner of a human cannonball, into the eye of the sun, in a last ditch attempt to obtain some spiritual quietude. Despite being sizzled up like an old marshmallow, this extreme measure fails to achieve the desired result, and so two sequels are promptly commissioned.

I found this film tiring and distracting, like an unbidden and excessively voluble dinner-guest. I give it nothing, send it home without dessert and promptly move house.


11 Responses to “Mad Max”

  1. oldrope Says:

    Why is he so mad? Did he forget to video record the Bill AGAIN!!!?????

  2. johnlebaptiste Says:

    As far as I could ascertain, Mel was so mad because they keep giving all of the good jobs to THEM and THEY keep shagging all of the good jobs and you can’t even celebrate Christmas anymore and pretty soon no-one in Australia will speak English and all of our children will be flaming galaahs.

    Did I mention that I’m not terribly keen on Mel Gibson?

  3. Banjo Fett Says:

    Some of my best friends are hooting spanner-jackals.

  4. johnlebaptiste Says:

    I know. I’m one of them. HOOT.

  5. oldrope Says:

    I’m not Mel Gibson or anything, but…

  6. johnlebaptiste Says:

    You flipping are and all.

  7. Banjo Fett Says:

    He would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you pesky kids.

  8. johnlebaptiste Says:

    What is a pesk? Does ‘pesky’ mean the same thing as ‘pesk-esque’? I demand to know.

  9. Banjo Fett Says:

    It’s a bit like a desk.

  10. johnlebaptiste Says:

    Alright then. But what’s a rusk?

  11. Banjo Fett Says:

    That’s when your pipes go a funny colour. There’s also a drink called a rusky snail.

    Not to be confused with ‘dusk’, which you get on old books, mantelpieces and maidens.

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