Laurie Penny, “Mad Max Is A Feminist Playbook For Surviving Dystopia.”
Patriarchy, it turns out, is prettiest when it’s on fire.
Hello Tailor, Mad Max: Fury Road.
Also, before I go any further into this Very Serious Review: THROW ME IN THE TRASH, FURY ROAD IS AN EXPLODING MUTANT MASTERPIECE OF LIZARD-CHOMPING, FLAMING GUITAR-PLAYING GENIUS. I spent the first third having heart palpitations over Max’s mask and blood tube, the second third thinking, “WHAT THE FUCK!? DUDES ON POLES WITH CHAINSAWS!?” and the final third having some kind of religious experience where I wanted to cry because Tom Hardy made a quizzical grunting noise or the Motorcycle Matriarchy had shown up to save the day, or simply because We Are Not Things, dammit!
Tansy Rayner Robert, Mad Max as Feminist Ally.
I still don’t know if I can put into words how amazing it felt to see a movie like Fury Road that was not getting it wrong. It wasn’t just putting one strong, powerful, interesting woman into a genre that so often uses women as scraps and baggage and window dressing. It was telling a whole story where women were the centre, women were everywhere you looked. Different women. Surviving terrible things and living to tell the tale, or sacrificing themselves nobly for other women.
Me, at Tor.com.
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea 