'Furiosa' Review

George Miller's latest is a cinematic epic and a thrilling Odyssey with grand, poetic storytelling and overtones of classic literature.

In the 1970s, young Australian filmmaker George Miller, inspired by the language of silent cinema, wanted to produce a film that predominantly operated on image to tell the story, something he could describe as “pure cinema.” The film would star an up-and-coming actor named Mel Gibson and, in 1979, Miller launched what would become a surprise international phenomenon known as Mad Max. A low-budget chase film set in an apocalyptic Australia, the original Mad Max was the beginning of an audacious franchise that slowly expanded its mythology in fascinating ways. Beginning as a grieving widower-turned vigilante, Max returned in 1981’s The Road Warrior as a Wild West cowboy-figure protecting a settlement from outlaws, and again returned in 1985’s Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome as a near Messianic-figure come to deliver a tribe of orphans. By the time Mad Max: Fury Road was released in 2015, Max Rockatansky had morphed into an elusive figure of legend, with Tom Hardy replacing Mel Gibson in the role, and took second place to Charlize Theron’s Furiosa, a new character of equal mythological intrigue.

Miller is always experimenting with new ways to tell stories, and at age 79, he shows no signs of slowing down. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, the latest film in the franchise, is a dramatic shift from the self-contained Mad Max films that normally span over a few days. Described as an Odyssey (and there are many allusions to Homer here), Furiosa is a sprawling epic poem of a film that covers 18 years in the life of the character Furiosa and her journey across the desolate Australian wasteland. Over the course of the four original films, the lawless world’s understanding of the legendary Max dramatically changes, and Miller carefully altered the character each film to build on Max’s ever-changing mythological status. Now, Miller performs the same feat with Furiosa but over the course of a single film. Lest audiences worry Miller has tried to condense too much story in one movie, they can rest assured that Furiosa’s epic story is given room to breathe, while simultaneously, miraculously, moving at an utterly breathless pace. 

Miller’s method for this go-around is to separate the film into five chapters, each a crucial stage in Furiosa’s development. As a young girl, she is kidnapped by a murderous biker gang, led by the aptly named Dementus (a perfectly cast Chris Hemsworth who gives comical Shakespearean gravitas to the villain). Taken from her home (the only green place left on the continent) and forced to watch her mother die, she is given to Dementus and dragged across the Wasteland by the tyrant, who hopes the imprisoned child will lead him to the Green Place. Caged with “The History Man,” a storyteller who helps aggrandize the tyrant’s exploits, Furiosa is protected and carefully plots her escape, mapping her way home to the Green Place (and plotting revenge against Dementus).

As per the franchise’s tradition, the protagonist is surrounded by grotesque, almost Dickensian characters who have all been driven to insanity by the apocalypse. Played often for humor, the side-characters are equally off-putting in their desperation for basic human needs. When Dementus trades Furiosa to another warlord (the previous film’s Immortan Joe, an even more intimidating tyrant), Miller gives a glimpse of how far the world has fallen. Tribalistic, fear-mongering warlords all vie for power and resources in the Wasteland (leading to some Trojan horse-like shenanigans midway through), and the poor beggars are at the mercy of the warlords’ wrath. Little orphan Furiosa keeps her head down, but in her piercing expression, the thirst for vengeance grows against the man who took her mother and her childhood (young Furiosa is played to perfection by Alyla Brown, a non-precocious child performance that deserves recognition). As she grows into a young woman (an equally compelling Anya Taylor-Joy), she begins her pursuit of Dementus while blending in with the grotesque characters of Immortan Joe’s citadel. In what is a mostly mute performance, Furiosa herself becomes a product of this collapsed civilization, and is perhaps just as mad as the tyrants who surround her. But Miller doesn’t go for cheap sensationalism and refuses to turn revenge into something celebratory. Over the five chapters, the tone is a primitive Greek tragedy that revels in the kinetic action for the purpose of unveiling ancient truths about the nature of revenge and the necessity of hope. 

While there is plenty of comically overblown dialogue, Miller still pursues his “pure cinema” in some of the finest action set-pieces of the year (Miller’s wife Margaret Sixel serves as editor). The action scenes have a Rube-Goldberg quality, effortlessly executed so that viewers can always follow the cause-and-effect. More than just entertaining, the action has real thematic weight, as desperation hangs in the air for preservation of life and resources. The action carries the cries of the starving without using words. Even for most of the runtime, Furiosa’s silent rage expresses more than words ever could. Life has beaten the joy out of her, but the anger has been preserved, and many will fear her story can only end in tears. She could easily be a figure of silent cinema, telling her entire tragic life with just her eyes.

Upon meeting a young driver named Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), she is given a glimpse of a better life, and in this relationship, a gentler side of Furiosa begins to emerge. Alas, as the myths dictate, Furiosa continues to morph into the dark angel of vengeance, her appearance becoming rougher and tougher with each new chapter. But Miller is a man of hope, and offers Furiosa opportunities for redemption. Rather than being motivated by hate (which Dementus insists is the only motivator people have in the Wasteland), Furiosa’s newly found hope in a better life with Jack (who looks mysteriously similar to Max from the original films, though this writer is only speculating) lets the movie alter the mythology again. The girl cast into the deepest pits of hell crawls out of the ashes, and though filled with grief, has the chance to plant a new seed in fresh soil. Even in the quieter moments, Miller uses blunt visual symbolism in his pure cinema experiment, starting with Furiosa forever carrying a single seed her mother gave her, instructing her to plant it in the future. The dark angel of vengeance has the chance to morph into a messenger of good tidings, a giver of life in a land of death.

Miller is a true anomaly in Hollywood. He is one of the few directors working today who has his finger on the pulse of pop-culture, and yet refuses to compromise his extraordinary imagination and intelligence. Well-versed in the Western Canon, he brings a literary significance to action cinema and gives his continuously evolving Mad Max franchise a new chapter that can be called an epic in the classical sense of the term. It’s a must for fans of the franchise, but equally compelling for viewers hungry for bold, poetic storytelling of a caliber rarely seen today. 

Content warning: sequences of strong violence and some disturbing images.