There comes the point in every franchise or series of films in which the creator suddenly realises that what they have is something extraordinary, with the only exception being those rare cases when such a series is planned out in advance (and even then, we’ve seen this foresight and planning doesn’t necessarily guarantee all the films will be made since the industry is notoriously quite fickle when it comes to tentpole productions) – and it is safe to assume that George Miller probably didn’t envision his entire career essentially being defined by a single character when he first set out to make Mad Max, a thorny and callous, but wickedly entertaining, entry into the steadily growing Ozploitation genre that he helped define and bring to international attention. His motivations for creating this character in the first place began to shift when he set out to expand on the world he inhabits, which is precisely why the series has flourished into such a brilliantly subversive and offbeat chapter in the genre’s history. The response, both globally and within his native Australia, clearly indicated that he had struck a chord with viewers, leading to one of the most offbeat and delightfully strange film trilogies (which has now evolved into an even broader universe of films with the recent return to this dystopian hellscape that Miller created decades ago), with the second entry being considered arguably the best. Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior is often cited as being the pinnacle of Miller’s career as a director, and the heart of this series that has taken on a life of its own within the culture, both at the time and within a contemporary setting, and whether watching it for the first time or revisiting it after a while, there’s something truly extraordinary and subversive about this film, which proves to be far more engaging and captivating than we may have initially expected, especially in comparison to the brilliant but quite uneven first entry into this series of films, which arguably reaches its peak with this production.

The experience of watching The Road Warrior in very close proximity to the previous film can be jarring, but in a way that carries some sense of artistic resonance. Miller did not intend for this to evolve in the way it did, which is why there are several major changes between the two films, which show a clear realization that he needed to do much more to expand on the world of these characters than he did in Mad Max, which was an entertaining albeit quite straightforward film that was also slightly rigid in terms of directorial approach. The prologue to The Road Warrior not only serves as a reminder of the events of the previous film, given to those who either needed to be refreshed on the general plot of the first film, and as a way of introducing ideas that would allow for a seamless transition between the two films, with this one being far more offbeat and unconventional, both in terms of the story and the style. Suddenly, we’re propelled from a relatively traditional action film that takes place in a recognizable reality, to a dystopian landscape that is only marginally familiar to us but serves to be a far more compelling stage for the action that is about to transpire. Miller is one of the rare action-oriented filmmakers who is both an incredible visual stylist and an exceptional storyteller (although it isn’t entirely accurate to reduce him to such a limited category – he’s made several tremendous films in entirely different genres), and he brings so much of this to The Road Warrior, which is both an immensely compelling visual spectacle, and a philosophically profound examination of certain themes that were not present in the first film (although there were broad overtures that we can see in hindsight, and which this film does well to emphasize in its prologue), and most importantly we witness Miller finding his voice as a director, both in terms of this series of films, which will forever be considered his crowning achievement and as a generally well-adjusted, brilliant filmmaker whose stylistic versatility is perhaps his greatest strength.

Revisiting The Road Warrior all these years later, we are still struck by how resonant and daring it is, even from a standpoint where we’ve seen similar ideas woven into several different films, very few of which were all that successful in establishing as strong a balance between narrative and execution, which is perhaps why this film remains so celebrated and seemingly unimpeachable in terms of cerebral action cinema. It all begins with the tone of the film – The Road Warrior is much funnier and more absurd than the previous film, which was an active decision made by Miller (as well as his collaborators, notably the celebrated author Terry Hayes, who many will be surprised to discover served as a co-writer on this film), as a way of underlining the bizarre version of reality that he was intent on exploring as the foundation for the society in which these characters live. Dystopian fiction has grown into an entire sub-genre on its own, and it usually varies in quality as much as it does narrative details, Miller was certainly not the first to explore the chaos that would ensue in the aftermath of some kind of apocalyptic event that would return our species to its most primordial, fundamental form. Absurdism intermingles with primitive terror in the creation of this challenging and unconventional film, and while we are naturally most drawn to this film based on its neverending stream of violence, which speaks to a more visceral response, where we have a perverse fascination with witnessing the destruction. there is a method to the madness that informs so much of this film and makes it such an unconventional and unnerving masterpiece of not only action cinema, but philosophical fiction. Arguably, Miller does flesh out these ideas more in the next film (which we’ll cover shortly), but as a whole, the timeless appeal of The Road Warrior is its ability to blend the cerebral with the chaotic in a way that is deeply entertaining and oddly thought-provoking, forming what we can consider being one of the finest examples of a principle known as destructive postmodernism, whereby the story follows a society undergoing a continuous collapse into its more primordial, barbaric form, showing the anarchy that ensues with such a lack of order. 

As controversial a figure as he may be, we sometimes tend to forget that Mel Gibson is a tremendously gifted actor, and the role of “Mad” Max Rockatansky will forever be considered his signature character, mostly because his performance is genuinely brilliant. Not many actors could bring the same blend of machismo and mystery to this role, which is driven less by the dialogue, and more by non-verbal cues, which Gibson masters as he works alongside Miller to develop this character. In The Road Warrior, Max has transitioned from a dedicated police officer pursuing a gang of criminals, into a mysterious drifter who appears in the lives of other characters, assisting them in a very particular task and then disappearing. There is a lot that can be said about the archetype of the mysterious anti-hero who is seemingly indestructible, and who always seems to be able to do what is moral, despite having ambigious ethics based on their behaviour and the measures they take to accomplish a specific mission. This film, in particular, remains arguably Gibson’s best performance, or at least the one that fully captures the reasons why he is considered such a charismatic actor, with his ability to hold our attention despite playing such an ambigious, unconventional part being one of the fundamental motivations behind the resounding success of this trilogy. The Road Warrior features a larger cast than before, with highlights including major supporting parts from legendary Australian character actors like Bruce Spence, Mike Present and Vernon Wells, all of whom make perfect additions to the Mad Max universe (both in the sense that their style of acting resonates with the broader timbre of the film, and because they’re genuinely extremely committed to the sometimes bizarre requirements of these characters), rising to the challenge of playing these peculiar and eccentric characters and adding layers of nuance to a film that could have easily just been a mindless series of cliched archetypes, but in reality are far more endearing and compelling.

Many aspects of The Road Warrior warrant our praise and affection, but perhaps the most notable of all is how simple it tends to be, even at its most provocative. There are layers of meaning scattered throughout this film, but they exist more as something that can be discovered alongside the wall-to-wall action, rather than being integral to our enjoyment of the premise, which is still very much defined by our willingness to just surrender to the chaos that abounds throughout the film, and which Miller so gleefully throws on screen with seemingly reckless abandon, making for a profoundly captivating and deeply endearing action thriller that is as entertaining as it is daring. He follows the same general premise of making “a silent film with sound”, and while there is arguably more of a storyline here than in the previous film, the appeal of The Road Warrior comes from the fact that it establishes a very simple, direct premise that it follows closely, at least enough to never feel impelled to complicate the story or make it unnecessarily dense when in reality the best moments are those in which the action collides with the underlying philosophies that the director intends to explore. Outrageous, bizarre and perpetually entertaining in a way that makes its reputation as arguably the greatest action film ever made clear (perhaps surpassed only by a later entry into the same series), The Road Warrior is a terrific film that has aged remarkably well, and remains as captivating today as it did over forty years ago – and it’s this exact element that has allows it to remain such a classic of the genre, ripe for revisiting by those who have been plunged into this world before, as well as being the first encounter by viewers who have yet to be witness to the creative chaos that occurs liberally throughout this peculiar and brilliant film.