“Mad Max: Fury Road” is the kind of spectacle that blows up your brain (figuratively) and leaves you an exhausted husk, ready for a nice relaxing stack of tax forms. There’s little patience left for stimuli in the wake of such a film … and this is why it might be easy to dismiss it as a vacuous joyride with little messaging of importance beneath the glossy, absurd exterior.
Indeed, the film is shot gloriously. The visuals are often striking, many times disturbing or graphic, and the pace of the film is completely manic. So it’s a difficult film to process, even on the most basic of “Did I like it?” levels.
On the other hand, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that the environmental messaging is not obvious in retrospect, and I’m likewise not going to tell you that the themes invoking feminism are hidden purposefully. They’re right there, plain as day. But the visceral thrills certainly distract.
This is a movie that grows in importance the longer you think on it.