by Luke Buckmaster.
Filmmakers who expect Hollywood’s top end of town to pony up the money for productions with eight or nine digit budgets had best remove that bold artistic ending where nobody saves the day and their hero is crushed like a paper cup. Except if they are George Miller.
The Australian director’s gut-busting world-gone-wrong epic Mad Max: Fury Road is refreshing partly because it reminds audiences what a lovely time can be had when the same-old same-old mould is broken. Fury Road doesn’t have a romantic subplot, a predictable three-act structure or one of the two endings now virtually compulsory in franchise film-making: a cripplingly unsatisfying cliffhanger paving the way for a sequel or a rosy conclusion where characters perform the cinematic equivalent of a hand-holding round of Kumbaya.
Read the rest of this article from The Guardian.
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