Furiosa severs her own arm to escape Dementus. Sure, it’s fucking awesome. But would you do it? Would you eat human flesh to survive worldwide ecocide? Would you bury yourself underground to escape fire-breathing dragons? Would you start a revolution at the back of a gigantic, inescapable train? Would you flirt with an ape? (Don’t worry.
We’ll get there.) I watched (and rewatched) 51 postapocalyptic movies over two weeks to answer those questions myself. Why? I’m an idiot, firstly.
But also because they’re all interesting, unique tests of the human psyche. The Mad Max movies are a sensation because they depict more than just a singular weather event or alien attack or zombie outbreak; they fast-forward to when people start to devolve into cannibalistic, gas-injected savages with unquenchable lust and hatred. The rules change after every movie apocalypse, and only those who learn and abide by them survive.
The effects of nuclear war create scarcity across the board: food, water, clothes, shelter, companionship. All of the different ape, alien, demon, and dragon takeovers present unique challenges (and that’s in addition to the needs at the floor levels of Maslow’s pyramid). Lines are drawn in the sand between good guys and bad guys, sure, but those lines are blurred.
Do you open your door to every desperate survivor pleading for help? Do you mindlessly trust the random old guy in the postal worker outfit to lead a revolution? Do you travel back in time over and o.
