Unpacking Mad Max
I went to see Mad Max last night and it's kind of ruined my day. Not because it was bad. It was good. But I didn't like it, and I'm trying to unpack why. I'm aiming this post at people who have seen the movie because I'm hoping someone can help me make peace with it, but if you're not going to see it or don't mind spoilers, read away. But maybe look at a plot recap first, kay?
Biggest problem: The post-mortem cesarean of a dead baby. Everything about that is horrible for me right now. I am aware that babies die. I am aware that mine might die. I don't want to spend a lot of time thinking about it. I am aware that there are circumstances (me getting arrested at a protest and imprisoned, e.g.) that might result in loss of control over my own body, before and after my death. I don't want to watch a cinematic presentation of it. Too much squick.
I think I can transition from that horrible moment to my bigger problems with the movie, the ones that I think people might be able to resolve by exegesis. Someone on facebook thought, from my non-spoiler mention of having been freaked out by a scene, that I was disturbed by the image of a pregnant woman dying. Not really; I am quite comfortable with the idea that I might someday die defending something I believe in, and there are not nearly enough movies in which pregnant women are allowed to be heroic. But look: being pregnant has been interfering with my physical courage, and that bugs the hell out of me. I don't WANT to be afraid to fall off my bike. I don't want people to have any legitimate reason to be concerned when I'm climbing on the furniture or trees or fences or whatever. I don't like the way that I feel like containing a fetus has made me a wimp. I should have totally identified with Splendid's courage in using her body as a shield... and instead it fell flat. Inside the logic of the movie, I approve of her character, but I don't approve of the way the narrative treats her. There are three deaths (and, thank goodness, zero rapes) that are lingered over cinematically: Immortal Joe's, Splendid's, and the fetus'. Splendid receives punishment for her courage that Furiosa (doesn't die), Max (doesn't die), and Nux (dies heroically at the climax) do not--not in-character, but as far as our gaze is concerned. Splendid gets fridged.
Dammit.
There are these characters who declare themselves to not be objects and enlist the aid of someone more competent than themselves to escape captivity and objectification, and then the movie BLATANTLY invites their objectification. They never put on real clothes, spending the entire movie in little drapey scarf bits. I could forgive this on the grounds that we should never assume that people aren't characters just because they are wearing skimpy outfits... but they're dripping wet when we first see them clearly, and the camera lingers on their breasts and on Splendid's belly. This has to be deliberate. For one thing, I don't believe anything in this movie was accidental. Max himself is confused by their existence but does not particularly objectify or sexualize them. He demands the water instead, thus remaining heroic.
But Splendid gets fridged. Each of the not-objects has a few flashes of characterization, like the war boys and the cartoon mini-bosses and everyone else in the film, but none of them receive what I would call an engaging character arc. Splendid is the brave one and dies for it, and that's what there is. Why? Again, I am totally willing to believe that I'm missing something, that this is set up to make a point. We're invited by the camera to see these women as the villain sees them; are we supposed to learn to see them as people? How is that supposed to work? Max learns to see Furiosa as a person, but he's nuts, and I'm not persuaded he sees anything more than threat/ally potential when he looks at the other women. Furiosa gets less autocratic, but she's pushed to it by circumstances, not respect. Nux? Maybe Nux. Maybe I'm just not doing the emotional-intellectual work this movie wanted me to do.
Because Splendid died just as we were getting to know her, there were no developed characters I particularly identified with or even liked. The four people who spent significant screen time growing (Max, Furiosa, Nux, Joe) struck no chords with me, maybe because I was distracted. The character I wanted to like (the Many Mothers member who hugs Furiosa) barely had a speaking part. I didn't have enough of a sense of magic-unreality to even go "whoa, cool" at the stunts. The most I got was a bland sense of looking at a pretty painting.
It's very strange to watch an action movie that refuses to let you forget that
every single extra who dies screaming is a human being who deserved a chance at life. Do I respect the hell out of the people who put together a movie that could do that? Yes. Was it comfortable to watch? No. It was depressing. It was a reminder of the fragility of our human connections with each other and of the circumstances that allow us to retain our personhood. I fight that battle every day, and it's not something I want to will to my child. Welcome, baby. You'll be born already dying, if not already dead. I love you anyway. I will teach you all the strength I can, but no amount of strength can guarantee your happiness. You have to snatch what you can while your world spirals through symbolic death and rebirth until finally the death is no longer only symbolic. I'm not sure I enjoy this game enough that I feel sanguine about offering you a chance to play, but love is one of those little joys there to take. You are an expression of love and you will be loved, so at least you'll start up a couple points.
Well, and down a couple, what with the existentialist mother. Sorry bout that. The secret to happiness is not thinking too much, and I'm not sure I can teach you a skill I lack. Follow your father's example.
Biggest problem: The post-mortem cesarean of a dead baby. Everything about that is horrible for me right now. I am aware that babies die. I am aware that mine might die. I don't want to spend a lot of time thinking about it. I am aware that there are circumstances (me getting arrested at a protest and imprisoned, e.g.) that might result in loss of control over my own body, before and after my death. I don't want to watch a cinematic presentation of it. Too much squick.
I think I can transition from that horrible moment to my bigger problems with the movie, the ones that I think people might be able to resolve by exegesis. Someone on facebook thought, from my non-spoiler mention of having been freaked out by a scene, that I was disturbed by the image of a pregnant woman dying. Not really; I am quite comfortable with the idea that I might someday die defending something I believe in, and there are not nearly enough movies in which pregnant women are allowed to be heroic. But look: being pregnant has been interfering with my physical courage, and that bugs the hell out of me. I don't WANT to be afraid to fall off my bike. I don't want people to have any legitimate reason to be concerned when I'm climbing on the furniture or trees or fences or whatever. I don't like the way that I feel like containing a fetus has made me a wimp. I should have totally identified with Splendid's courage in using her body as a shield... and instead it fell flat. Inside the logic of the movie, I approve of her character, but I don't approve of the way the narrative treats her. There are three deaths (and, thank goodness, zero rapes) that are lingered over cinematically: Immortal Joe's, Splendid's, and the fetus'. Splendid receives punishment for her courage that Furiosa (doesn't die), Max (doesn't die), and Nux (dies heroically at the climax) do not--not in-character, but as far as our gaze is concerned. Splendid gets fridged.
Dammit.
There are these characters who declare themselves to not be objects and enlist the aid of someone more competent than themselves to escape captivity and objectification, and then the movie BLATANTLY invites their objectification. They never put on real clothes, spending the entire movie in little drapey scarf bits. I could forgive this on the grounds that we should never assume that people aren't characters just because they are wearing skimpy outfits... but they're dripping wet when we first see them clearly, and the camera lingers on their breasts and on Splendid's belly. This has to be deliberate. For one thing, I don't believe anything in this movie was accidental. Max himself is confused by their existence but does not particularly objectify or sexualize them. He demands the water instead, thus remaining heroic.
But Splendid gets fridged. Each of the not-objects has a few flashes of characterization, like the war boys and the cartoon mini-bosses and everyone else in the film, but none of them receive what I would call an engaging character arc. Splendid is the brave one and dies for it, and that's what there is. Why? Again, I am totally willing to believe that I'm missing something, that this is set up to make a point. We're invited by the camera to see these women as the villain sees them; are we supposed to learn to see them as people? How is that supposed to work? Max learns to see Furiosa as a person, but he's nuts, and I'm not persuaded he sees anything more than threat/ally potential when he looks at the other women. Furiosa gets less autocratic, but she's pushed to it by circumstances, not respect. Nux? Maybe Nux. Maybe I'm just not doing the emotional-intellectual work this movie wanted me to do.
Because Splendid died just as we were getting to know her, there were no developed characters I particularly identified with or even liked. The four people who spent significant screen time growing (Max, Furiosa, Nux, Joe) struck no chords with me, maybe because I was distracted. The character I wanted to like (the Many Mothers member who hugs Furiosa) barely had a speaking part. I didn't have enough of a sense of magic-unreality to even go "whoa, cool" at the stunts. The most I got was a bland sense of looking at a pretty painting.
It's very strange to watch an action movie that refuses to let you forget that
every single extra who dies screaming is a human being who deserved a chance at life. Do I respect the hell out of the people who put together a movie that could do that? Yes. Was it comfortable to watch? No. It was depressing. It was a reminder of the fragility of our human connections with each other and of the circumstances that allow us to retain our personhood. I fight that battle every day, and it's not something I want to will to my child. Welcome, baby. You'll be born already dying, if not already dead. I love you anyway. I will teach you all the strength I can, but no amount of strength can guarantee your happiness. You have to snatch what you can while your world spirals through symbolic death and rebirth until finally the death is no longer only symbolic. I'm not sure I enjoy this game enough that I feel sanguine about offering you a chance to play, but love is one of those little joys there to take. You are an expression of love and you will be loved, so at least you'll start up a couple points.
Well, and down a couple, what with the existentialist mother. Sorry bout that. The secret to happiness is not thinking too much, and I'm not sure I can teach you a skill I lack. Follow your father's example.