Mad Max: Fury Road comes out tomorrow. If you’ve been paying attention to the critics, it is Oscar-worthy, a grand triumph, one of the greatest action movies ever made. Many reviews are specifically highlighting the performance of Charlize Theron as the awesomely named Imperator “I Am Basically the Star of This Movie, Fuck You You Accented Weirdo” Furiosa, who—as we’ve seen in a series of increasingly batshit trailers—runs around headbutting fools and making a serious case for why she’s the action star of the century.
And (all apologies to The Rock, whom you know I love)… yeah. Pretty much. She’s an Oscar winner, she’s an action hero, she’s a glamazon who murder walks. Charlize Theron: Get in my life. In exchange, you can:
—Stuff my mouth full of bees.
—Sit me down and make me watch Snow White and the Huntsman. (Ehhhhhh.)
—Headbutt me into oblivion.
—Try to avoid being squashed by a falling ship by running directly under it instead of taking a few steps to the side, and I promise to only laugh once.
—Ask me, your BFF Rebecca, to help you move all your armoires full of diamond-encrusted shoes in exchange for pizza, only after we’ve already transported everything from one posh-but-still-kind-of-down-to-Earth,-you-know? apartment to another (me on my hands and knees pushing boxes, you sipping champagne while riding on my back like a pony), there is no pizza.
—Crimp my hair.
—Shave my head.
—Use me as a blunt instrument to bludgeon baby seals.
—Make me watch the Jem trailer.
—We can totally become gal pals on the run who do our part to combat Hollywood income inequality by robbing Johnny Depp’s house.
—Make me travel forward in time and make Courtney watch the Craft remake. Oh, the battle wounds I will have!
—Make me publicly state that I am a supporter of gamerg—that I am a gamergat—that Adam Baldwin kind of has a poi—OK, no, pass, not that one.
—Replace my entire wardrobe with mumus made of balkava.
—Get me to willingly interact with Sean Penn. Five seconds max, Charlize.