The story of the practical fiction revolves around a man named Mad Max, a former policeman who found himself in a desert town. He is appointed by the city's leader to fight in a wrestler like the arena called Thunderdome. But he was later exiled and found a group of children who survived a plane crash during the war. So Mad Max must save them from the desert and from Bartertown in Auntie's.
Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome isn't a bad movie. It has entertaining sections, decent performances and more than a few provocative images. But it also has a major shortcoming: It's too darned sane.
Beyond Thunderdome is the third in George Miller's Mad Max series, and it closes the trilogy like a lightning blast followed by the ominous, resonant drone of thunder.
The directors, George Miller and George Ogilvie, borrow from every source they can find; movie buffs can pass the time spotting the Lynch shot, the Leone shot, the Jodorowski shot, and all kinds of others.
Gibson impressively fleshes out Max, Tina Turner is striking in her role as Aunty (as well as contributing two topnotch songs, which open and close the picture) and the juves are uniformly good.
An astonishing display of virtuoso cinema that is destined to take its place among the most vivid and freshly imagined fist-to-groin contests in the medium's history.
Miller never falls back on the formulas that have become the bane of too many recent action films, and his sustained cuts lend a clarity to the proceedings.
This infusion of money and production by a major studio gives the film a slightly more polished look, but is inferior to the previous two films in every other way.
This middle portion of the picture becomes dangerously preachy, but just before we and Max are bored, director Miller returns Max to his roots, a screaming chase sequence through a desertlike Australian landscape.