Mad Max: Fury Road

A new review from The Movie Snob.

Mad Max: Fury Road  (B).  Does anybody else find it remarkable (or strange) that Mad Max director George Miller also wrote Babe and directed Babe: Pig in the City, Happy Feet, and Happy Feet 2?  Anyhoo, I haven’t seen any of the other Mad Max films, but I was all geared up for a two-hour-long car chase through the Australian desert.  The movie did not disappoint.  It is visually stunning (even in the 2D incarnation I saw), and stuffed to the gills with insane flourishes that I found very entertaining.  There’s not much plot.  In a post-apocalyptic desert, a hideous tyrant named Immortan Joe keeps a largish population in thrall by controlling the water, the food, and an army of albino-mutant “war boys.”  Max (Tom Hardy, The Dark Knight Rises) is a lost soul who gets captured by Joe’s goons, but he gets a chance to escape when one of Joe’s top lieutenants, Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron, Prometheus) makes a break for freedom with Joe’s five beautiful and lightly clothed “breeders” in tow.  The rest of the movie is a car chase involving the most ridiculously tricked-out, armed, and armored cars and trucks you can imagine.  My special favorite was the giant truck that seemed to carry nothing but giant bongo drums (and drummers) and a heavy metal guitarist whose double-necked guitar doubled as a flamethrower.  For a delirious, demented ride, Fury Road is this year’s movie to beat.  (But be advised, it is rated R for “intense sequences of violence throughout, and for disturbing images.  It’s not for the kiddies!)

Happy Feet and others

New reviews from Nick at Nite

Happy Feet

Took my son to see Happy Feet over the weekend. Learned important lesson. No amount of popcorn, candy, and coke will keep a toddler entertained if the movie is slow, dialogue intensive, and more “real” than “fake” in its animation. Talking, cute cars? Great. Talking, cute bugs? Great. Talking, cute fish? Great. Talking, realistic, penguins? Not great. The music was good. A little like Moulin Rouge for kids. Sappy environmental message, a little over the top even for this liberal. I give it a “C.”


Bewitched? How about Bebored. At one point, I actually fast forwarded through some of the film just to see how it ended. How could so many good actresses and actors get caught up in such trash? It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t clever. I just don’t get it. Did notice parts for Stephen Colbert and Steve Carell. Both parts were small. I actually thought Steve Carell was pretty funny as the original Uncle from the Bewitched series. I digress. The movie stank. Don’t rent it. Read a book instead. I give it an “F.”

And a book review …

Hannibal Rising

I read this disturbing book over the holiday break. I probably would not have purchased the book, but it was given to me as a gift so I thought what the heck. Well, the what the heck was that this book is about how Hannibal, of the Silence of the Lambs, Red Dragon, and Hannibal, became so fond of fava beans and a side a human flesh. Why would anyone care or want to know? Well, I now know. And, you guessed it. Some really bad things happened to him that made him the crazy, sicko that he was in all of those books and the accompanying movies. Turns out Hannibal’s aristocratic family hid from the Nazis, their thugs, and looters for several years during WWII. They hid in a secluded lodge that was not far from their castle home. Eventually, they were attacked by thugs. All of Hannibal’s family and friends were killed with the exception of his sister, Mischa, who was not killed until later. A Donner party moment between the thugs and Hannibal’s sister is what changes Hannibal from a sweet, smart, attentive little boy to a monster consumed by a need for revenge. The book is filled with flashbacks as it follows Hannibal on his path of revenge after the war as he tracks down and kills the Nazi thugs one at a time. Don’t get me wrong, I hate Nazis just as much as everyone else, but even I had some difficulty stomaching the descriptions of how Hannibal ends their lives and disposes of their bodies. I give it a “C” for Creepy.