I Came For The Strong Leather-Bound Men
The internet is on fire with the imminent release of Mad Max: Fury Road, a film that on its face promises to be an action packed thrillride of nonstop explosions, outrageous car chases, and unspeakable violence. It’s precisely the sort of movie that we think we’ve been waiting for, and by we, I obviously mean men, because this is a man’s movie for men. Here, just look at the trailer:
And as you can see, the movie is nothing that we were promised. So much greatness crumbles upon closer inspection. It appears that this is a movie which has the audacity to prominently feature not only women but a closely shorn Charlize Theron too. And before you ask me, yes, I haven’t actually seen the film, but what more does one need to see when one has seen a trailer such as that? That trailer is 2:32 of Hollywood misandry at its worst and I, for one, am outraged.
If you’re wondering why it is exactly that the presence of women so threatens to entirely undermine this proudly masculine franchise, please read this excellent recap of the truly brilliant arguments being made against this…well, abomination is the only word that comes immediately to mind. I cannot possibly do enough justice to the good words being spoken by the erudite men who find themselves so reasonably and righteously offended about the desecration of the decades old legend of Mad Max. I will not try to outspeak the intellectual titans who rightly understand that the presence of any women in any action movie will ruin that movie, for what can I say that could be said any better? These champions of canon have staked out a position so well-thought out and perfectly reasoned that little more can (or even should) be added. But I have noticed one shortcoming in their arguments, one position that they’re not giving enough attention, one bit of kindling that should be tossed onto the righteous bonfire of their aggrieved indignity, and that is simply this: when I watch any action movie, but especially a Mad Max film, I’ve come for the strong leather-bound men.
Don’t let me be misunderstood. When I say that I’ve come for the strong leather-bound men, I mean that I’m there in that theater to see men with the sort of raw, sinewy, taut physiques that result from the hellscape of a post-apocalyptic world wherein strength – raw, passionate, desperate strength – trumps all. We can know of the sort of hell that these men endure by the sort of roughcut leather that they’re forced to wear, outfits that barely conceal, outfits we’d only ever wear in our wildest fantasies. And those masks show us a world of power and terror and domination. I don’t want my enjoyment of any of this interrupted by the presence of women.
They’re distracting me from the time I’ve intended to spend with the chisel-jawed Tom Hardy, the impish Nicholas Haut, and the hard-bodied Josh Helman. I can’t believe that some Hollywood screenwriter and then some Hollywood producer and then some Hollywood director would think that I would have any interest in my post-apocalyptic fantasies ruined by the presence of women. As if I can possibly focus on the story’s hot, sweating energy if a woman is at all involved.
In summation, I want to emphasize that Mad Max: Fury Road features too many women that we haven’t come for and too few men that we have come for.