Mad Max Fury Road is full of names: weird, inventive, evocative names. But it also uses them brilliantly. Thereâs so much information packed into what names are spoken, when and how.
Names and titles are a
classic way of revealing hierarchy. Joe is named repeatedly, and each time it
shows his relationship with the person naming him. Nuxâs âImmortan! Immortan
Joe!â is all about his godlike status. The Organic Mechanicâs âJoeâ is deliberately
casual, not actively disrespectful but certainly not worshipful.Â
Then thereâs
the ongoing tension in what Joe calls Angharad: âSplendidâ most of the time,
reverting to her proper name at moments of stress, when he really needs her to
listen. In the canyon scene, he goes from âSplendid, thatâs my child, my propertyâ when heâs trying to rebuke her to âAngharad! Get out!â when he realises sheâs at risk of hitting the rock. Â Itâs implied that she rejects âSplendidâ â certainly the other wives
only ever call her Angharad. (More generally, the wives use each otherâs names simply, to get each otherâs attention: I donât get any sense of hierarchy from it.)
On screen, Furiosa explicitly uses names to form connections. When she asks for
Maxâs name, itâs a deliberate attempt to achieve emotional engagement, because
she needs him on side. And itâs rare for her: not only does she not name the wives, she doesnât use the war rig crewâs names,
either. In a movie that keeps its dialogue sparse, every word counts – and every omitted word counts, too.
Within the Citadel hierarchy,
war boys donât get named by anyone but each other. âIâve got a war boy, running
on empty,â says the Organic Mechanic. An imperator later uses exactly the
same phrasing to introduce Nux to Joe: âIâve got a war boy, says he
was on the war rigâ. It suggests that, from the top of the Citadel hierarchy,
war boys are seen as interchangeable.
One describes Nux as if he were a machine; the other – âsays he was on the war rigâ – implies his lower status, framing his evidence as hearsay.
Itâs clearly a huge honour for Joe to ask
Nux his name. Itâs also the only time we see a Citadel full-life acknowledge a
war boyâs name. Â
War boys in this film
are both abusers and victims – terribly fragile, desperate for attention from
the powerful class that exploits and uses them, not questioning its
values. They go unnamed by their superiors, but they name each other as
often as possible: âMorsov!â âSlit, whatâs happening?â Though Nux shouts âCrew,
out of the way!â at Ace – maybe they donât know names beyond their own crews,
or maybe he just doesnât recognise Ace from behind.
They use names to
encourage each other. Just look at the way they all shout Morsovâs name before
witnessing him. âWitness meâ is a plea for affirmation: see what Iâm
doing, make it mean something. Witnessing is an act of performative masculinity – I liked @bookishandiâs post on witnessing Nuxâs death. But itâs also framed as an act of mutual support
(which I think is why itâs taken off so much in fandom). Â Morsovâs death – which is really the viewerâs
introduction to âwitnessingâ as a concept – is part of a scene that shows
us the war rig crew working smoothly together.
The exception is Slit,
who tries to undermine his colleagues instead, shouting âMediocre,
Morsov!â rather than âwitnessâ, or telling Nux that Joe wasnât looking at
him, âHe was scanning the horizonâ. And of course Slit is the most
insecure of the lot, begging for any scrap of attention:Â âI got the
blood bagâs boot! Take me, I got his boot!â Â
Imperators, and others
from the Citadelâs powerful classes, are clearly known by their names. âFuriosa,
she took a lot of stuff from Immortan Joeâ, for instance. Thereâs no sense that
war boys give this recognition to anyone not at the top of that hierarchy. The war boy who
tells Nux about Furiosa talks about the wives as things
– âstuffâ, âprize breedersâ. Nuxâs own reaction to the wives
–Â âso shiny, so chromeâ – sees them as objects rather than people. And of
course he goes on calling Max âblood bagâ, even when he thinks theyâre on
the same side. Itâs not a conscoius insult; it clearly doesnât occur to him that Max
might mind – any more than Nux minded the way the Organic Mechanic or the imperator talked about him.
Then thereâs the scene when Furiosa greets the Vuvalini. Hereâs what she says:
âI am one of the Vuvalini, the Many
Mothers. My initiate mother was K.T. Concannon. I am the daughter of Mary
Jobassa. My clan was Swaddle Dog.âÂ
This is a speech proving her identity, but how she does it is so revealing. She doesnât
use her own name at all. Instead, itâs all about a web of relationships, of
connections, the ways in which she belongs. (Sheâs also proving that she belongs by demonstrating knowledge of Vuvalini society.) She lists her initiate mother
before her birth mother â her place in the community before her lineage. Her
tenses are interesting, too. Her clan was
Swaddle Dog â sheâs left, the clan may no longer exist, sheâs talking about the
past. But when she talks about being Vuvalini, itâs âI amâ. Â Even though sheâs asking for recognition, it
has none of the war boysâ neediness â sheâs naming what she is, how she chooses
to see herself. Sheâs not seeking approval or affirmation.Â
And though the
Vuvalini team work is smooth, they do it without shouting
names â to the point where most of the Vuvalini characters donât have names at
all (which is very unhelpful for fandom, George). Citadel naming is intensely
hierarchical, about who does, and doesnât, get respect. Vuvalini naming is
about community, identities built up through choices and relationships.
Of course, the filmâs most powerful naming scene has nothing to do with the Citadel or the Vuvalini: itâs Max telling Furiosa his name. (OH MY HEART.) Itâs the conclusion of Maxâs emotional arc, his return to being a human being: accepting a name, accepting his own identity. Crucially, he accepts it by sharing it. Throughout the film, names are meaningful because theyâre how people connect with each other. In the âMy name is Maxâ scene, we see Max choosing to do that. Engage to heal.Â
Over three decades Transformers has grown from a line of childrenâs toys to a media franchise encompassing film, TV and gaming. Perhaps its most radical spin-off though is a comic that has used wit and humanity to reach a new, diverse fan base.  – BBC News
A few more thoughts on my comics catch-up before OP ends:
Revolutionaries
While Revolution is a mess, Revolutionaries is surprisingly delightful. The team is really sweet – I love Mayday, I continue to love Blackrock because who doesnât love cocky secret Cybertronian Tony Stark?, and Action Man is actually a lot of fun when he isnât irritatingly panting after Arcee (ahem, Optimus Prime). Also, Kup is the most adorable old man. I canât get over his friendship with Ian, and the fact that when Ian meets Ayana, Kup is just like, âYou made a human friend!! Iâm so proud of you, kid!â and practically starts arranging play dates. đ (And then when Kup and Ayana come to rescue him, Action Manâs first response is, âYou brought my human friend!â Itâs almost painfully cute!)
Revolutionaries also manages to pull off what Revolution does not in that it gives you some kind of hook for all the characters, no matter how briefly they appear. I felt more for Maydayâs G.I. Joe team during the two pages where they actually appeared before being mutated than I did for the entirety of the G.I. Joe cast in Revolution.
Which is not to say Revolutionaries is perfect; I think it does suffer from trying to cram together three eras of G.I. Joe with three largely different casts, and Iâm ambivalent about the retconning of Hearts of Steel from a charming little G1 AU to a cynical and cruel experiment by Shockwave. However, it does pretty damned well with the material it has, Iâm just saying.
I think turning Sgt. Savage into a kind of IDW Steve Rogers – a WWII hero who suddenly rocks up in the modern day and turns out to be younger, less cynical, more wholeheartedly into embracing the future, and a lot less down for morally grey government bullshit than anyone imagined – works surprisingly well.
The way the series plays with genre – like through the Encyclopedia-Brown-style adventures of âMikey Powerâ, kid detective, and the mix of pulpy mid-20th century adventure with X-treeeeme 90s comics and more modern storytelling – is inventive and cool, and actually pulls a lot of weight in terms of establishing both the characters and the historical evolution of G.I. Joe as an idea. For someone coming in with very little background in G.I. Joe, it was great.
First Strike
First Strike is really solid, thanks in no small part, I suspect, to Mairghread Scottâs writing. In a lot of ways, this is the book I think Revolution should have been. Itâs a crossover where itâs easy to feel for both sides, and where both sides nevertheless have very valid reasons to distrust one another. Having humans attack Earthâs induction into the Council of Worlds on Cybertron is a great plot hook: itâs high-stakes, itâs intense, youâve instantly got a reason for both the Cybertronians and G.I. Joe to swarm the scene and quite naturally turn on each other. And the way itâs pulled off is visceral, unlike the oddly stilted âI guess we fight because now is the time for the two of us to fightâ feeling I got from Revolution.
Iâll tell you something else: Joe Colton is ten times the human villain Spite Witwicky ever was. This is how Spikeâs story should have gone! Colton is fantastically written: Heâs a good man who ends up conspiring with terrible people to commit an atrocity, for a reason thatâs understandable in a horrifying sort of way. He understands that what heâs doing is genocide, and heâs not even doing it because he hates Cybertronians. He gets that some of them are good and want to help humanity. He just knows that humans are like ants to them, and another Cybertronian war might well wipe Earth off the face of the galaxy – not because the Autobots want to hurt us, but because their power is so staggeringly above our own that a careless step could crush us. Thatâs so much more interesting than Spikeâs… I donât even know what the hell was going on with Spike. Spikeâs âyouâre all talking toasters and I hate machines because my dad used to take me fishing but I hate him too kind ofâ… thing.
Coltonâs relationship with Scarlett is also very well written. Itâs moving – so moving, in fact, that itâs easy to fall into the same trap Scarlett does, and want to believe that Colton is leading her to him because he wants to be stopped. The fact that he doesnât – he just wants her to understand – breaks my heart. (And hers, I donât doubt.)
I really find Manheim deeply uninteresting, though. His (already fairly weak) morally grey/doing this for the greater good schtick from Revolution becomes completely superfluous given Coltonâs arc here, and by the end I kept hoping Shazraella would drop him.
Soundwave and Scarlett actually being friendly with one another – and Soundwave being able to relate to the pain of your beloved mentor going off the rails – warms my heart.
I am also a huge fan of the Torchbearer twins and their friendship with Soundwave, where they just run around fighting shit and doing Science! and finishing each otherâs sentences, and Soundwave just beams at his two bizarre and wonderful Camien daughters. đ
The Cybertronian politics in this crossover are actually really on point (again, I suspect because Scott wrote it and theyâre directly continued from the pages of TAAO). One detail I particularly enjoy is that, despite the fact thereâs no love lost between them, Starscream long ago learned to trust Soundwaveâs perception and judgement, and he still does.
This series could have been subtitled, âLocal Prime Is Completely Useless, Says Everyoneâ and I appreciate that immensely. đ
stop calling every piece of fabric with a plaid pattern âflannelâ
flannel is a soft, warm cotton. it has nothing to do with what pattern is on the cloth
I see thereâs drama in the plaid fandom
im a lesbian
So am i and i say every plaid is flannel! You canât change my mind! See that plaid blanket over there?? Thatâs flannel. The latitude and longitude grid on world maps? Thatâs a nice flannel you got there buddy
hey are you free this saturday night. id like to meet up and have a passionate discussion with you
i canât tell whether thatâs a callout or an ask-out
Oooh! I have Beast Wars/Machines to thank for getting me into TF in the first place. Youâre in for a fun ride đ (might do my own rewatch of BM, itâs been a few years) Glad your sticking around, Tumblr wouldnât be the same without you ^.^
Thank you, my dear! â¤Â And absolutely, go for it! Itâd be fun if we both ended up rewatching. Iâm really looking forward to a trip back to the Beast era. đ
Beast Machines was the first Transformers series I ever watched, and I still have kind of a soft spot for it. Itâll be fun to hear what you think of it! (Iâm kind of bummed that my DVDs are currently still in England – itâd be a good excuse to rewatch them.)
Thanks! And thatâs really cool – I know some fans can be negative about Beast Machines, so itâs cool to hear that you liked it enough to check out everything else! (Did Beast Machines inspire you to dive into the rest of the franchise, or did you come back to it later?)
Alternatively, he’s in it for the resume: “I strangled God and fucked the Chaos-Bringer!”
OH MY GOD HE ABSOLUTELY WOULD.
And still no one would believe him, because heâd say it in the same breath as heâd say that he was super unvincible and you spell his name with an explosion noise and he once beat up Megatron (and one of those is actually true, too!).
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: âTwo vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: âMy name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!â Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.â
I met a programmer the other day Who said âA vast and blocky plastic box Stands in my workspace; in it, so they say Half-dead, a chip from Intel lies, which clocks 566 M-hertz; the CD drive And fifteen gigs, and bundled AOL Must have seemed neat when Reagan was alive But now the stickers on its lifeless shell Seem only fit sad memories to revive And on the light beige case are words that say: âTHIS COMPUTER IS NEVER OBSOLETE SURF! INVEST! EMAIL! TYPE! SHOP! TRAVEL! PLAY!â The monitor is dark; near its defeat My new and shiny MacBook whirs away
Whirl would. Whirl WOULD. Whirl has no sense of perspective and no fear of death; of course heâd develop a crush on the killer planet. They are both (physically and metaphorically) prickly death machines with a whole encyclopediaâs worth of issues, who are also both fonder of Rung than you (or he) would imagine. This relationship might actually work.