Tag Archives: apocalypse

Welcome to wild, wild ‘Wyrmwood’

In the spoiler-heavy trailer above, one of the review blurbs calls Wyrmwood: Road of the DeadMad Max meets Dawn of the Dead.” Honestly, that sums it up pretty well.

It’s the zombie apocalypse, in Australia at least. If you don’t have the right blood type, then you turn into the walking dead. Cars are of no use because, it turns out, fuel no longer burns. There’s nowhere to run, few places to hide, and the last of humanity is drastically outnumbered. It’s pretty bleak. Hence, Dawn of the Dead.

Quirky characters abound, from The Doctor – a dancing madman doing experiments on those who haven’t succumb to the plague – to Benny, a goofy dude without seemingly much to offer other than his own special brand of foolish bravery. Toss in the unique armor, the altered vehicles (turns out, zombies belch fuel), the sped-up road scenes and more, and the Mad Max comparison is apt, as well.

But what saves Wyrmood from being completely derivative is the humor and the twist. Not only is the film funny, it’s not afraid to inject humor in truly dark moments, seemingly out of left field. The scene shown in the above trailer where our hero tries to shoot himself in the head, only to be out of nails in his nailgun, is not funny, at all. Until that happens, and then you’re laughing when you know you shouldn’t be. The twist I won’t spoil, but it’s a game-changer and not something I’ve seen used in a zombie flick, at least not the way it’s handled here. It is a tribute to director Kiah Roche-Turner and his co-writer Tristan Roche-Turner that it doesn’t just become a Mad Max knockoff with zombies, but is its own unique entity, and a fun one, at that.

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On second thought: ‘Mad Max: Fury Road”

Skulls everywhere ...

Skulls everywhere …

Had the opportunity to catch Mad Max: Fury Road for the second time in theaters. It’s not something I do often. In fact, it’s probably been since Robert Rodriguez’s The Faculty in the late 1990s that I’ve seen a movie a second time on the big screen. Two takeaways from George Miller’s latest Mad Max frenzy:

1. The amount of detail is incredible. Skulls everywhere, on steering wheels, on grills, on shifters, on the girls’ chastity belts, on Immortan Joe’s get-up and so on. The variety and variance among the vehicles – from the drum-and-guitar deathmobile to the unique war rig of Imperator Furiosa – isn’t new to the Mad Max franchise, but taken to a new level here. Hill even uses that to remind us what’s been lost in all this war and terror. There’s a moment between attacks where one of the girls is looking at the ceiling of Furiosa’s truck, and there’s this simple, beautiful pattern covering it. In the days before, that pattern would have likely included birds or cats, but here, more skulls. I can’t wait to watch it on DVD so I can pause to get a better look at those little but visually and stylistically important things that are hard to catch in a movie that moves at the pace Fury Road does.

I live, I die, I live again.

I live, I die, I live again.

2. A new creation story. Miller toyed with that some in Beyond Thunderdome with the story told by the kids who lived isolated from the terror of the world in their own little oasis. Here, the merging of pseudo-Viking religion as well as the worship of good, ol’ Detroit steel and chrome create a blind, unquestioning, suicidal warrior culture not unlike the Islamic extremism seen in pockets of the world we live in today. Immortan Joe is both a priest who preaches about the rewards of virtue and faith as well as god on Earth, controlling the most vital of resources: water. His cult insulates him from the rabble and wholeheartedly seeks to do whatever will most redeem them in Joe’s eyes. Joe promises them that their loyalty will be rewarded when they have left this hard, wretched place and live again in the afterlife. It’s a bit … Margaret Atwood-esque. In the Oryx & Crake/Year of the Flood/MaddAddam trilogy, Atwood shows that a creation story and the religion that develop from it are part truth, part fantasy shaped by necessity and part off-the-cuff bullshit, a mix that helps believers buy in. Miller’s Immortan cult has that feel to it. Brilliantly done.

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‘100’ may be trying to get ‘Lost’

Grounded sky dwellers Clarke and Octavia, either running into trouble or running from it.

Grounded sky dwellers Clarke and Octavia, either running into trouble or running from it.

Spoilers ahead. You were warned.

I’ve been pretty impressed with the CW’s The 100. I started watching it with my (then) tween daughter, who is a big fan of all things Hunger Games, Divergent, etc. And while in its own post-apocalyptic way The 100 is part of that youth genre, the writers and other minds behind the show have done a nice job of establishing unique situations and strong characters. The three-way war between sky folk, grounders and the mountain people was masterful, a situation made more interesting by the personal relationships and political machinations that each side has tried to manipulate in their favor.

Clarke has become the most interesting character. Yes, she’s the lead, the daughter of the only doctor among the sky people, a conscience at times when the youthful, shrinking group of 100 needed her to be, particularly in the first season. But the second season has seen a dramatic change in her role. As she has ascended to leadership, she is the one who now must make the tough decisions. She can’t just stand on the sidelines and critique. Now, the blood is on her hands when things go wrong, when battles must be fought, when conflicts must be settled. The change becomes apparent at mid-season when her love interest, Finn, is surrendered for the mass murder of unarmed grounders. It is a political decision to hand him over. It smooths the path for unity between grounders and sky people, as well as their military alliance against the mountain folk. Finn will be tortured, slowly, in gruesome manners for his crime. Clarke approaches him, hugs him to say goodbye, then stabs him in the gut, sealing her bargain with the grounders with blood without allowing Finn’s death to be dragged out over days. It’s a hard call, but the mark of leadership.

I could go on and on about the positives regarding character development, factions and more. It’s all praise that is deserving. But I’m worried that the good times may be over, and that has paused my adoration.

At the end of season two, Jaha – who was the leader among the sky people while in space, but has become a Quixotic character in his search for civilization – has found what he believes to be is the fabled City of Light, of which we have heard a lot about, but not much of substance. Things are clean, solar-powered, food and drink are around. But Jaha finds a settler, a digital image of a human who we were warned might be the person who started the nukes flying that sent our plucky heroes’ ancestors to space in the first place. This digital being seems determined to start the radiation parade all over again. ostensibly with the help of Jaha.

There was something about it that just screamed … Lost. To this point, there’s been no mystical element to the proceedings. To be sure, there’s been plenty of weird to go around, but all explainable. But this moment that closed Season Two felt like the smoke monsters, talking to dead people, ancient temples, a plane full of carcasses on the bottom of the ocean. I sincerely hope that this will lead somewhere rewarding, don’t get me wrong.

But my Spidey Sense is tingling. And as we all know, that never ended well for Peter Parker.

To be continued …

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