Mad Max: Fury Road (dir. George Miller, 2015)

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On the surface, the title Mad Max: Fury Road appears straightforward enough. It indicates, first, that the film belongs to director George Miller’s series of films about Max Rockatansky — a police officer in a dystopic, post-apocalyptic society, who, all too often, is left to fight the forces of chaos and evil alone. Second, it implies that the most recent installment of the franchise is, like its predecessors, a road film at heart, following Max as he wanders about the burned-out Australian landscape. But why, one might wonder, is this road called “Fury Road”? What is the term “fury” — which comes from the Latin furere, meaning “to rage” — given such prominence?

Here, again, a cursory glance at the plot would seem to suffice. As the film opens, Max (now played by Tom Hardy, in a role that once was almost synonymous with Mel Gibson) has been captured by the War Boys — an army of mechanics and car jockeys, who, like kamikazes, only want to serve and to die for a tyrant named Immortan Joe. The material basis for Joe’s rule is his control of the fresh-water supply, but, for those under his thumb, he is a veritable god. A hulking figure, painted white, whose grandeur is preserved by a suit of translucent armor and a menacing mask, Joe has proclaimed himself “redeemer” of the people:

Of course, as this clip makes clear, Joe is no redeemer. Not only does he oppress the masses, but he has enslaved a number of people for his personal use, including five women for “breeding.” With support from a pair of partners known as The Bullet Farmer and The People Eater — the former a military leader and the latter a kind of oil tycoon — Joe’s is a thorough and, it seems, endless reign of despotism. After all, with Max effectively imprisoned, who would be capable of challenging him?

The threat, it turns out, comes from within. One of Joe’s top commanders is a lithe yet fierce woman called Furiosa (Charlize Theron). Tasked with driving a petrol tanker known as the “War Rig,” Furiosa instead dares to escape to an unknown territory known as “The Green Place.” It is an audacious plan, made all the more so by Furiosa’s cargo — namely, Joe’s “wives,” one of which is pregnant with his child. Joe soon realizes that Furiosa has betrayed him, and he sets out in pursuit, accompanied by the War Boys (one of whom is holding Max as his prisoner) in addition to The Bullet Farmer and The People Eater. From this point forward, in an example of cinematic bravado, Fury Road turns into a ninety-minute car chase. It is an exhilarating and almost wearying ride, which, at last, tilts in favor of Furiosa and her crew, particularly once Max escapes and is able to join them.

Still, the central character in the film is not Max but Furiosa — a point that quite clearly harks back to the film’s subtitle, Fury Road. Does this notion of “fury” simply refer to the character Furiosa? Or does Miller have something else in mind? As noted, the Latin verb furere means “to rage,” and it is indeed true that Furiosa is a wrathful figure, devoted to avenging Joe’s abuse of the innocent and the needy. And yet, as Miller surely knows, Furiosa’s name and character also point to Greek mythology and to the mysterious “Erinyes” or “Furies.” Often depicted as three female deities, the Furies were described by Homer as those “that under earth take vengeance” on persons who have deceived others. Later, Dante situated them in Canto IX of his Inferno, where they were said to guard the City of Dis — a place reserved for those who have committed active sins of malevolence, rather than passive sins of weakness. They appear as well in other great works of literature, from Aeschuylus’ Oresteia to (in more veiled form) Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

Of course, that Miller would gesture toward the classical tradition in making Fury Road is not surprising in and of itself. Countless other filmmakers have done the same. But what may seem peculiar, especially to contemporary audiences, is that Furiosa evokes theological concerns. As noted, the Furies were goddesses, charged with righting the wrongs of humanity. And, of course, the notion of a divine judge is hardly foreign to the Judeo-Christian tradition. “To me belongeth vengeance, and recompence,” proclaims God in the Hebrew Bible (Deut 32:35). Similarly, in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus prophesies a time where he will return as the just adjudicator of the righteous and of the wicked (Mt 25:31-46).

The claim here is not that, in making Fury Road, Miller was thinking of these connections in particular. It is just to say that his chosen theme bears unmistakable theological questions. Can human affairs be truly judged and, if so, by whom? If not, won’t the abuse of tyrants such as Immortan Joe be disregarded or, even worse, viewed as the fundamental prerogative of the powerful? In light of Fury Road‘s critical acclaim and financial success, these questions would seem to remain pressing. On the other hand, as there is increasing consensus that Western society has entered a “post-truth” era, Fury Road‘s popularity appears almost paradoxical. Do we now live after divinity, after judgment, and after truth…except in the movies?

Up next: Arrival (dir. Denis Villeneuve, 2016)