BEAT THE CLOCK: a review of "Jim Henson: Idea Man"

 

"JIM HENSON: IDEA MAN"
Written by Mark Monroe
Directed by Ron Howard
*** (three stars)

UNRATED

"Run, rabbit, run

Dig that hole, forget the sun 

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down, it's time to dig another one

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave"
-"Breathe"
Pink Floyd

lyrics by Roger Waters
music by David Gilmour, Roger Waters & Richard Wright  

In my most recent review posting about Director Andrew McCarthy's documentary "Brats," I wrote about how I thoroughly enjoyed that film as it transcended its primary subject matter to showcase a certain dichotomy that exists for its principal film subjects, as well as all of us in the audience, regarding the sense of perception we hold for ourselves and when it conflicts with the perceptions others have of us.

With Ron Howard's fine documentary "Jim Henson: Idea Man," I was struck by this very quandary as Jim Henson never seemed to think of himself as a puppeteer, even though that is of what he is most famous and beloved for generations. He never saw himself as one who necessarily provided entertainment for children, although his now iconic work has entranced and enchanted generations of young viewers. Jim Henson described himself as "an experimental filmmaker," and through Howard's documentary, we can greatly understand how Henson's more subversive, and often gently anarchistic qualities, were always fused into his work that otherwise was filled with delight and flew on the wings of his restless imagination. 

That in and of itself would make for a great documentary about this feverishly idiosyncratic artist who achieved a monumental and still enduring body of work in a life cut too short. Which makes "Jim Henson: Idea Man" a tad frustrating because as good as it is, we can see how easily it could have been better, greater, more comprehensive, innovative and fully equal to its subject. 

To be clear, my feelings are not generated toward Ron Howard himself as he has more than proved over 40 plus years that he is an immensely skilled cinematic storyteller and those skills are deftly on display here. I have a feeling that more corporate entities were at work behind the scenes, creating a work that is designed to be more of a "feel good" experience, where the darker, more complex and possibly troubling aspects are not delved into as deeply as they could have been so as to not upset a certain..shall we say...corporate brand. 

Ron Howard's "Jim Henson: Idea Man" follows a standard cradle to grave narrative structure, featuring copious archival footage, classic film clips of Henson's wide body of work, and interviews with family members and key contributors, including his arguably closest collaborator Frank Oz, who met Henson at the age of 17 and was hired by him immediately after graduating from high school.  

We are given a travelogue through Henson's creative beginnings and the origins of what would become some of his most treasured characters and technological advancements as he begins his partnership with his then future wife Jane Nebel with the Muppet (an amalgamation of "marionette" and "puppet") themed sketch comedy show "Sam And Friends" (1955-1961), the nightly lead in to "The Tonight Show."  

After a trip to Europe where he encountered puppetry being regarded as a serious art form, we follow Jim Henson over time as he develops his craft, characters and reputation through a series of commercials and guest appearances on "The Steve Allen Show," and "The Ed Sullivan Show" among others. We view his involvement with the birth and endurance of "Sesame Street" (1969-present), the first season of "Saturday Night Live" (1975), his desires and trials to create what would become "The Muppet Show" (1976-1981), which then would lead him into creating feature films including Director James Frawley's "The Muppet Movie" (1979) plus the grander, darker cinematic visions of "The Dark Crystal" (1982), co directed by Henson and Oz and Henson's "Labyrinth" (1986), his collaboration with George Lucas, the late David Bowie and starring a then 14 year old Jennifer Connelly.  

Throughout "Jim Henson: Idea Man," Ron Howard delivers a warmly presented portrait of a timeless artist who has amassed a timeless--and ubiquitous--body of work. He was a figure possessed with what one collaborator referred to as a "whim of steel" regarding his seemingly tireless work ethic fueled by his restless imagination. Yet, as widely known as he was--albeit it through the work and the characters-Jim Henson as a human being was more enigmatic to the rest of us, definitely and perhaps even to those closest to him. The film also suggests that Henson quite possibly housed a clandestine anxiety concerning the relationship between his art and his mortality and if he would have enough life to birth all of the ideas that flowed through him. To that end, I was truly gobsmacked by some brief images Howard included in the film of Henson's truly ahead of the curve surrealist live action eight minute short feature "Time Piece" (1965), starring himself and serving as an unnerving yet playful representation of his inner turmoil regarding his relationship with the speed of life.   

To that end, that one specific film project seen within "Jim Henson: Idea Man" is one in a series of revelations about the titular subject Howard presents. Or at least, these were revelatory facts to me. For instance, it never occurred to me that for a puppeteer as innovative and immersive in creating characters that possessed true soul as he was--seeing Muppets riding bicycles and driving automobiles in a very real human world still remains landmark cinema for me-Jim Henson had never even seen a puppet show as a youth and furthermore, he actually carried no interest in puppeteering whatsoever. For Henson, puppeteering was a means to an end, and in his case, the endgame was finding a way into working within the television medium, which is what really consumed his passions. 

It also surprised me that Jim Henson never truly possessed an interest in creating works designed for children, let alone educational material, as he leaned towards more absurdist comedy and even comedically violent scenarios, including one early pitch for what would become "The Muppet Show" entitled "Sex and Violence With The Muppets." His involvement with "Sesame Street" hinged upon his ability to engage with his more subversive creative tendencies, which ultimately paid off beyond his expectations, I can only imagine. For Henson, never once utilized his art to talk down to children. He created what would entertain himself, which did serve as educational while entertaining children and adults for generations on conceptual multi-levels.  

This aspect about Henson's creative spirit certainly provides a greater context towards the darker tones and elements within both "The Dark Crystal" and "Labyrinth" but for me, I think it definitely played into a film as enormously magical as "The Muppet Movie," which I still contend is a harrowing film considering its plot of a human conduit of consumerism and heartless greed spending the entire film trying to hunt down and kill Kermit The Frog in order to sell frog legs in a restaurant chain. Saccharine, cloying, overly twee and most importantly, NOT treating his audience--especially the youngest members--as mindless consumers but instead as human beings deserving of the absolute best entertainment he could possibly devise.   

And then, there was the information presented near the film's beginning that I also never knew anything about regarding Jim Henson's childhood or upbringing. So upon learning that his Mother practiced in the faith based Christian Scientist religion, an experience I had after Henson's passing reverberated loudly within me...which I will reveal later.  

Very much of Ron Howards' "Jim Henson: Idea Man" succeeds through all of the aforementioned material plus the copious archived footage of witnessing the sheer physicality of Henson, Oz and their collaborators made all of the Muppet magic happen. Howard performs a strong job of sticking to the theme of Henson hurtling through life as if he were constantly trying to beat the clock, a theme which allows Howards the opportunity to give the film a deeper context of who Jim Henson was as individual as he worked exhaustively at the expense of his relationships, his family life and even his own health. 

It was as if Howard's film is suggesting that if Henson were truly married to anything at all, it was to his creative spirit. Maybe Jim Henson was even more of an enigma than we, or those closest to him, could ever know, including his own children who proclaim that they really began to know their Father once they began working for him. Perhaps all we need to know about Jim Henson is what Jim Henson delivered in the work. I'm not sure.

Now, I wish to assure you that nothing presented here felt designed to tar a figure as universally beloved as Jim Henson. But, I was pleased that we did have the chance to see some human shadings and flaws alongside the brilliance. To see ourselves embrace Henson through our perceptions of him a one kind of artist when he saw himself as being a decidedly different kind of artist. And in the end, do the perceptions matter when we have the unimpeachable body of work forever? 

All of this being said, I still contend that "Jim Henson: Idea Man" could have been even better. For as much information we do receive, Howard's film moves at a fast clip, sometimes a bit too fast as if it was trying to hurry us along to the next Henson milestone instead of allowing the story to breathe and us luxuriate more in the work, the inspirations and the people who made the work we all revere so powerfully. I simply wanted more. Not a three hour epic necessarily but somehow a film that is a hair over 90 minutes doesn't feel like enough to do a subject like Jim Henson justice.  

Most egregious to me was material completely skimmed over most likely due to the fact that Disney owns The Muppets and this film was produced for the  Disney+ platform. Just announcing that Jim Henson sold The Muppets to Disney and all was well is nowhere near sufficient enough and truly just announces itself as having more to say in that story but due to corporate interests, whatever story could be told will remain unshared. I felt that to be a purposefully wasted opportunity because we never, at any point, gather a great sense as to why he sold and what it meant to him to sell something that had been an extension of his own being. Frankly, there are aspects like this one that felt to me to be less like a documentary and more like a press kit.  

And now, I have a short story to share with you, the very one that I alluded to earlier...

In 1991, after graduating from college, I spent four years working as a clerk in the campus bookstore, in a department called "General Books," the kind of which existed before the Border's and Barns and Nobles of the world really came into fruition. On one occasion, most likely in 1992, the store was  hosting an appearance and book signing by Douglas Adams, at that time on a book tour promoting Mostly Harmless, his latest entry in his irreverent The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy series. 

When one young-ish fan finally made his way to Adams after waiting patiently and nervously in the queue, I vividly remember him at last having his moment. He addressed Adams by thanking him for his visit to Madison, for the books he had written and for signing his copies. Then, it took a bit of a turn when he mentioned that he wanted him to watch his health and take care of himself for he and Jim Henson happened to be personal heroes and he was still reeling from Henson's passing two years prior. Douglas Adams, through his grace and generosity, gave this fan more to this moment, one that I am certain he still remembers. Adamas expressed that Jim Henson was a personal friend of his and that he still felt "mad" at him for his death at the far too young age of 53 as he explained, "Jim didn't believe in doctors." An ironic statement as Adams himself would pass away in 2001 at the even younger age of 49.      

I shared that story because I just felt that for all we learn within the film, there was so much unsaid or untouched because the powers that be are focused more upon the Muppet brand than the creative genius behind them. While my issues with Ron Howard's "Jim Henson: Idea Man" certainly do not derail the film as a whole by any means. I suppose for a figure that we all possess a certain personal attachment, especially to those of us who literally grew up with his visions, any documentary film to be made would have to feel as personal in its full intent if it is to capture a sense of the wonder and pathos of the man himself.

Ron Howard's "Jim Henson: Idea Man" gets pretty close. I wish we could get even closer.

CLASS REUNION: a review of "Brats"

 

"BRATS"
Based upon the memoir Brat: An 80s Story (2021) by Andrew McCarthy
Directed by Andrew McCarthy
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
UNRATED

I am going to go on record as having always hated the moniker "Brat Pack."

I was a teenager during the mid to late 1980's and as a budding cinephile, especially one who was urgently consuming nearly everything I was able to see, I took to the rise of the youth based teen film to a level that ran soul deep. Of course, at first, the genre was relegated to forgettable sex comedies and slasher films and still--save for the slasher films--I found myself watching every one that came along, knowing all the while of their poor, overly salacious and honestly regrettably distasteful attitude towards the subject matter and target audience. Frankly, thee films existed in the porn fueled fantasy world of adult male screenwriters and directors and never seemed to exist in any universe remotely resembling adolescence.   

And then, I saw Director Amy Heckerling and Writer Cameron Crowe's "Fast Times At Ridgemont High" (1982). While those salacious qualities, as advertised in the film's title remained, Heckerling and Crowe devised an entirely different tonality: one that was firmly footed in reality. It was a recognizable world with fully recognizably vivid emotions, moods and tenors wile also being extremely funny and endlessly quotable. I rewatched that film endlessly. 

This was soon followed by Director Martha Coolidge's surprisingly tender and no less entertaining "Valley Girl" (1983) and as anyone who knows me has ever known, by the time Writer/Producer/Director John Hughes arrived with "Sixteen Candles" (1984) and "The Breakfast Club" (1985), my head was blown apart while my heart swelled and soared. 

At last, here were films about teenagers that felt as if they arrived from the audiences they were intended for. I recognized myself. I recognized my friends and classmates. I recognized the trials and turbulence of adolescents and Hughes in particular showed an astounding empathy towards the process of growing up while also giving us opportunities to find the humor in situations that were otherwise confusing, painful and in the perceptions of our our adolescent hearts, a stretch of time that felt ever ongoing. 

Being right at the center of what would eventually be called "Generation X," a nation of kids who were often left to their own desires and voices that were essentially disregarded, John Hughes and like minded filmmakers created works that gave us a voice and the respect for our experience growing up, devising stories that spoke truth to our emotional states and told the world that just because we are young, it does not negate our stories being told with as much respect and dignity as films about adult characters. 

And with the very best examples of the genre, in addition to the sharp writing and direction, the conduits for these stories, their impact and their longevity rested heroically in the actors who embodies these characters.

Andrew McCarthy was one of the actors during that period that I did gravitate towards for I admired his fearlessness with displaying a level of sensitivity that was not the typical norm for male characters within the genre. There was a thoughtfulness to him, a pensive sometimes aloof, introverted quality that I responded to and kept returning to in films I revered as well as others I felt less successful yet he nonetheless remained magnetic. He was a figure who gave me a voice on screen as much as the likes of Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, and John Cusack, while others like Judd Nelson, James Spader, Tom Cruise, Emilio Estevez, Eric Stoltz, Ally Sheedy and definitely Sean Penn for example always informed me that there was the potential for quality in whatever projects they chose to align themselves with.   

The relationships formulated were palpable even though we would never meet in person. In fact, due to their consistent presence, combined with the proximity to our ages, it was not out of the question to kind of think of these figures as being auxiliary classmates as we watched them grow and develop right alongside ourselves.  

And then, on the cover of the June 10, 1985 issue of New York magazine, just months after the release of "The Breakfast Club" and a mere few weeks before the release of Director Joel Schumacher's "St. Elmo's Fire" (1985), starring seven notable young actors including Rob Lowe and Demi Moore, in addition to Sheedy, Nelson, Estevez and McCarthy, Journalist David Blum's article with the now iconic headline hit like a smart bomb: "Hollywood's Brat Pack." 

Nothing would be the same again regarding the pop culture zeitgeist at the time for those of us in the audience as fans and unquestionably for the actors themselves.     

Andrew McCarthy's thoroughly enjoyable new documentary film "Brats" explores the fallout from that one article in regards to himself and his contemporaries during the 1980's and now its legacy, which for almost 40 years has straddled the thin line between pejorative and badge of honor depending upon whom is asked. 

What could have existed solely as a nostalgia piece, designed squarely for the teenagers of the time, McCarthy has ultimately devised an experience that is more introspective and emotionally and philosophically wide ranged than expected. Yes, the memories flood back for us as well as the film's participants but they are revisited in the way that we all regard our collective pasts, with deeper perspectives, viewpoints that either are more entrenched or surprisingly altered and all delving into how we all perceive ourselves in comparison and contrast to how how we are seen by others. And in consequence, how did those perceptions, from ourselves and from others affect or even form the trajectories of our lives? 

With "Brats," Andrew McCarthy as our main protagonist and as the film's director decides to confront this very inner quandary by attempting to reunite with the principal members of the "Brat Pack," some of whom he has not seen or spoken to in decades, to at long last discuss and ruminate over what this one article meant to them at the time and if emotions have deepened or changed altogether. McCarthy embarks upon a cross country voyage to visit the likes of Emilio Estevez, Demi Moore, Ally Sheedy, Rob Lowe among others.

I previously mentioned that I had thought--and I guess that I still do--think of these actors as existing as auxiliary classmates and at face value, Andrew McCarthy's "Brats" succeeds as a sort of a cinematic class reunion. I was genuinely warmed by seeing these actors again on screen and regarding how they engaged with each other. But where the film struck some gold for me was how it showcased a certain pathos that is indeed inherent but was unexpected. 

Initially, I was experiencing the feeling that Andrew McCarthy was speaking a lot, and maybe to the detriment of us hearing what his colleagues had to say in return. Yet soon, it struck me that we were regarding that certain vulnerability that McCarthy exuded in his '80's era film performances but this time, we were witnessing the real man struggling with coming to terms with the life he may had desired for himself as an actor and the life it ultimately became after the article was released to the world. We discover more about the inner lives of himself and others that we were all completely unaware of during the '80's, most notably de to the lack of social media. Furthermore, it illuminates that these people whop feel so larger than life to us in the audience, just happened to be the same striving, trying, yet scared young people simply aiming to find their respective places in the world, in their cases within an unforgiving business in Hollywood.

What results in Andrew McCarthy's "Brats" is a series of exchanges that illuminate their personal relationships with each other combined with the sheer irony of this extreme situation. They existed inside of the sheer fallacy of what the term represented as they were decidedly not a grouping of individuals constantly in communion professionally and socially. We learn that even they did not understand or agree upon actually who was and was not perceived to be included in The Brat Pack or whether they were Brat Pack adjacent. We learn of the ultimate contrast in the perceptions of them and their talents within the industry to how their notoriety with fans actually increased and intensified due to this collective name. 

And McCarthy, throughout the film, continues his travels and engages in conversations in what is essentially a road trip as therapy and truthfully, I was moved as he seemed to be processing his feelings towards whatever "The Brat Pack" meant and means in real time.

At the outset of this review, I remarked that I have always hated the term "Brat Pack." It was openly dismissive, churlish and with this one phrase, it swiftly dismantled everything that had been worked upwards with regards to giving a significant cultural voice to a generation, from the audience certainly and to the actors themselves, undeniably. Even then, at the age of 16 in 1985, it was obvious to me that David Blum coined a term that was meant to knock this generation of actors off whatever pedestal they had ascended to by grouping everyone together as vapid, overprivileged, untalented individuals who just got lucky and are collectively coasting on unearned fame. 

We learn throughout "Brats" that the actors felt wounded to varying degrees by the name and article so much so that they rejected each other professionally, declining potentially good projects because of one actor's proximity to another, and sometimes feeling that the goals they had envisioned for themselves were now unattainable. This aspect of the film, and especially during the striking sequence where McCarthy engages in conversation with David Blum himself, where a greater truth is unveiled. 

I remember that back in 1985, I had seen an interview with John Hughes who expressed that one of the messages he was trying to convey within his films was for people to just take a f ew moments before tearing someone down for we never know what ripple effects would occur and then reverberate over time. Andrew McCarthy's "Brats" feels to be a representation of that very sentiment as a journalist, whoa t the time was 29 years old, was also young, competitive, possibly scared and attempting to make his way within an unforgiving business made a rash decision in order to advance himself at the expense of others (which also illustrates how writers are often writing for the attention of other writers). 

Yet, what cannot be denied is how the generation of fans that embraced them in the 1980's have only continued to embrace these actors and the seminal projects that spoke the deepest. To that, the term of "Brat Pack" holds a different significance and weight, showcasing that their work did indeed provide meaning and engagement in addition to entertainment. In doing so, was this term as terrible as it felt on the inside? Was it a value judgement upon them as artists and human beings?

Andrew McCarthy's "Brats" allowed me to contemplate my own life, how I see myself and how I think that I am being seen by others if I am being seen at all and how has all of that affected my own life path. I can understand McCarthy's struggle as I can easily look to words said to me by my parents, teachers, friends, colleagues and so on that either ran in support of or in defiance of how I was envisioning who I am, who I could possibly become and how the right or wrong words said at choice times helped or hindered my own sense of self perception, acceptance, loathing and love. 

We are all on this same life journey with hopes and goals, foibles and fears, successes and failures and all armed with a sense of self that may not ever align with the world, who we wish to become and who we naturally are. And still, we are connected. influence and inspire so often without ever truly knowing what we have accomplished or how much and certainly, whose lives we have touched. 

Andrew McCarthy's "Brats" gently transcends its immediate subject matter as it asks of us the very same questions McCarthy asks of himself and his colleagues. It is a bittersweet experience yet one that is simultaneously enlightening as the past and present converge in order to help us all accept where we are now and where we still might travel.

THE DARKEST ANGEL: a review of "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga"

 

"FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA"
Based upon characters and situations created by George Miller
Screenplay Written by George Miller & Nico Lathouris
Directed by George Miller
**** (four stars)
RATED R

There have consistently been factors, elements and entire cinematic landscapes that feel pulled and plucked from the realm of nightmares within the films of Writer/Director George Miller.

I remember "The Witches of Eastwick" (1987), Miller's rousing adaptation of of the John Updike novel was by turns filled with a darkly comic eroticism submerged in the rightfully demonic as well as the often vomitous. "Lorenzo's Oil" (1992) fashioned a parent/child medical drama with the existential terror and velocity of a horror film.  Even his children's films were not off limits as "Babe: Pig In The  City" (1998), his extraordinary sequel to the charming "Babe" (1995), possessed a feverish creativity filled with a dream logic by way of a classic Grimm's fairy tale. Even the gentle musical "Happy Feet" (2006) took a sharp detour into a harrowing sequence of environmental collapse. And certainly there was his superior installment in 'Twilight Zone: The Movie" (1983), starring a thoroughly unhinged John Lithgow as a tormented airline passenger in Miller's remake of the television episode "Nightmare At 10,000 Feet."

Yet, out of his entire filmography, what clearly stands tallest is the nightmare of the downfall of civilization itself and its full descent into complete barbarianism in his pre and post apocalyptic "Mad Max" series, unquestionably is greatest and most signature cinematic achievement(s). It has been almost ten full years since we were last thrust into the automotive carnage of the desolate Australian wasteland with George Miller's superlative fourth installment "Mad Max: Fury Road" (2015), a work that revitalized and re-introduced his rapacious vision to audiences with a vicious, visceral skill that succeeded the iconic second installment "The Road Warrior" (1981) into something truly operatic in scope and purpose. 

With the fifth installment, "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga," George Miller devises a prequel, giving us the full backstory of the title character first introduced to us via the titanic presence and performance of Charlize Theron in the previous film. Wisely, Miller does not attempt to just create a repeat of road rage and call it a day. 

Don't get me wrong. There is more than enough of his trademark and kinetic car chases, stunt work and largely practical effects at tremendous work. This time, Miller expands his world building even further, bringing a pathos and poetry to the blistering and bombastic, ensuring that "Fury Road" and "Furiosa" work seamlessly as a whole while also existing as two distinct and complete experiences, each one complimenting the other while telling a full story. What results is something especially extraordinary, considering that we are drowning in all manner of sequels, prequels, reboots, remakes and re-imaginings. "Furiosa" feels as if this was a film that sprung directly from George Miller's bones...more than apt as it unquestionably rattled mine.

George Miller's "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga," set decades after the apocalypse and decades before the events of "Mad Max: Fury Road," opens at the Green Place of Many Mothers, one of the last remaining areas of fresh agriculture and water, hidden away from the desert wasteland, and birthplace of Furiosa (Alyla Browne). While attempting to sabotage the arrival of marauders from discovering her home, Furiosa is captured and taken to the warlord Dementus (Chris Hemsworth), who soon murders her Mother and "adopts" her as his pseudo/daughter with the hopes she will lead him to the Green Place.  

What follows is Furiosa's journey from existing in Dementus' capture to witnessing Dementus' thirst for ultimate power over the wasteland through his attempts to infiltrate and take over Gas Town, the Bullet Farm and finally, the Citadel, run by Immortan Joe (Lachy Hulme) and his fanatical army of War Boys. Furiosa is eventually enslaved by Immortan Joe and for over a decade, as she grows into adulthood (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), she struggles to survive while also plotting her revenge against Dementus.

While the film does not necessarily deliver any sense of surprises regarding the backstory of the character of Furiosa (although all of the holes are indeed filled), George Miller's "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" beautifully widens and deepens the canvas of this chaotic universe unlike any of the previous installments. Like its predecessors, most notably "Fury Road," it is a thrilling production that showcases Miller's astonishing skill and heft as a visual stylist and storyteller. Tremendous applause must be served to Miller's entire team, with special mentions to Cinematographer Simon Duggan, Editors Eliot Knapmann and Margaret Sixel, Composer Tom Holkenbrg's booming, doom laden score, and of course, the entire stunt team, all of whom combine to bring every moment to brutally bracing life.

Admittedly, I was a tad confused when Anya Taylor-Joy was initially cast as Furiosa solely due to her physical characteristics and facial features being different enough from Charlize Theron that I was unable to envision her as this younger version. I needed not have worried. For a character that is often silent, Anya Taylor-Joy as Furiosa gives a performance that is simultaneously interior and explosive.  She conveys a world of emotion, pathos, turmoil, loss, grit, tenacity and an unending sense of purpose within her survivalist determination to the point where she is referred to as being "the fifth rider of the apocalypse."

Since we are dealing with the state of being told a myth, whomever is weaving the myth is key and in doing so, certain details can become malleable--especially regarding the exact appearance of someone. And so, it really doesn't matter that the actresses who portray Furiosa over the two films have differing features for it is in their inherent delivery and personality that we are always seeing one figure and we are submerged in her story.

This really struck me during a section of the film where Furiosa forges an alliance with Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), the driver of the Citadel's first War Rig and who also bears a striking resemblance to a certain road warrior we already know. Certainly this relationship serves as the mirror Furiosa will create with Max (Tom Hardy) years later in "Fury Road," but additionally, those lines of mythology were effectively blurred, making me wonder just whom was entering whose story and when. 

         

That being said, George Miller was wise to not try to craft an experience that would either out-do "Fury Road" as an action spectacle, although the action set pieces presented gloriously in their white knuckle intensity. "Furiosa" is no mere retread. In fact, what I found remarkable is that this film and "Fury Road" are the most interconnected, playing off of each other while telling one complete story in two distinct halves. 

In fact, I often thought of Writer/Director Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill Volume 1" (2003) and "Kill Bill Volume 2" (2004), a cinematic duet that consisted of two wildly fulfilling and completely idiosyncratic film experiences that ultimately chronicled, and therefore coalesced into, one entire conception. As with Tarantino's films, where the first film was the pulse ponding, blood thirsty action epic, the second film was its pulsating soul--while not dialing down on the action one bit. 

With "Furiosa," George Miller has infused his entire quintet of film with tremendous sense of moral urgency and outrage that infuses a richer amalgamation of his post apocalyptic Western aesthetic with a greater sense of mythology and myth making. While "Furiosa" functions as a prequel, I was extremely pleased that the film never felt as if it was overworking itself to reverse engineer plot points and aesthetic elements to ensure the parts between the two films connected properly. This success is entirely due to the fact that Miller wrote and storyboarded "Furiosa" (as well as a potential film entitled "Max In The Wasteland"--set in between these two films) before "Fury Road" was even filmed, largely for the purpose of allowing himself to become completely immersed in the story's arc as well as for Charlize Theron to embody the character and her psychology as deeply as possible--and as we have already witnessed in  "Fury Road," Theron accomplished this feat to a magnetically harrowing degree. 

Where the timespan of "Fury Road" is essentially over perhaps two days and consists of the structure of a chase and then, a race with Furiosa's mission to emancipate the enslaved Women of Imperator Joe as the...ahem...engine, "Furiosa" becomes the grander epic. Spanning decades and evolving over five episodic chapters, "Furiosa" is given its most literary tenor, thus making the titular character function over both films akin to Odysseus and his quest to return home after the Trojan War in Homer's The Odyssey just as she longs to return to her home, the Green Place Of Many Mothers.

Furiosa's journey delves into the heart of her battle against Dementus as well as the entire quintet of films as it is a philosophical debate of what could prevail after the end of the world. Hate or hope in an unforgiving environment where bottomless rage is ruled by grief. For Furiosa, is it through the loss of her home and Mother as she was born into this post apocalyptic world. Yet, for Dementus, it could be inferred that his backstory and what fuels his sense of rage occurred either before or after the apocalypse. And as for Max, is rage exists on the edge of pre and post apocalypse...and it is that edge where he remains, yet somehow still unearths a sense of mercy.

The stuff of this specific set of George Miller nightmares arrives with an environmental disaster (or several) combined with--and caused by--the downfall of humanity. Yet, over and again, and evidenced heroically in "Furiosa," even when the world is gone, there is still empathy, there is still trust, there is still love, and there is still hope--the hope to just survive one moment longer in a nightmare world where the nightmares never end. Every time Furiosa seems to evade danger, she is scooped right up into it all over again. She is captured, escapes, is captured and escapes and is captured again and again...and still, she resists and summons resilience. 

The constant state of dread never felt more palpable to me within this series than right now with George Miller's "Furiosa." For in the earlier installments, I was seeing a terrifying world that I could not believe--it was cinematic awe. Yet, with the human element placed at the forefront with "Furiosa," which therefore increases the human element of "Fury Road," I see George Miller's vision more clearly and with a greater sense of terror--possibly due to the overwhelming sense of inhumanity occurring in our very real world, and that feeling of hungering for blood in the water is hanging heavily in the air. 

With so much in a precarious balance between societal order and chaos and the endless cruelty show  being rewarded and kindness is seen as weakness, perhaps what George Miller has been devising all along has been a warning.

"Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" is one of my favorite films of 2024.