Immortan Joe: the decrepit villain of the ‘Mad Max’ universe
Mel Gibson’s three-film stint as the title character produced a trio of grungy classics, but it wasn’t until Tom Hardy inherited the mantle in Mad Max: Fury Road that the post-apocalyptic icon was presented with a nemesis worthy of his status in the annals of cinema history. Hugh Keays-Byrne’s Immortan Joe was a tyrant of the Wasteland, but there were many more layers to him than that.
Introduced and instantly established as the single most powerful figure in the ravaged society bar none, Joe occupies near-deified status among his slaves, servants, minions, and War Boys. They are largely driven by his control over the only aquifer to be found, giving him dominion over the most valuable resource of all.
With his luscious flowing locks, it wouldn’t be a shock to find out he’s hoarding all of the shampoo and conditioner in the Wasteland, either. Still, his heavily-armoured exterior and shiny adornments are all misdirections to disguise the fact he’s weak, ailing, sick, and diseased, to the point he can barely move without assistance. He needs to retain control over his territory and continue his lineage, making him increasingly desperate to procreate a healthy heir with any one of his subjugated five wives.
Going zero-for-two, Rictus Erectus is a buff idiot, and Corpus Colossus is intellectually capable but physically lacking, making him increasingly desperate to further his bloodline. Of course, by the end of the movie, he ends up with great swathes of his face ripped off before his body is promptly torn to shreds by his former subjects as a form of organ-pulling celebration at the end of his reign.
It’s all about appearance and aesthetics for Immortan Joe, who uses a combination of charisma, presence, intimidation, and bulky burnishings to disguise his failing body. As long as the War Boys still believe in him, he’s got a chance at producing a viable son before the dynamic duo of Max Rockatansky and Imperator Furiosa throw a spanner in the works by tearing down his entire empire.
His stronghold of the Citadel doubles as a symbol for the untold and unmatched power that he wields, a nigh-on impenetrable fortress with its own hierarchy, laws, social structure, and politics. There’s only one person allowed to sit at the head of the table. Thanks to the indoctrination techniques and godlike status he’s cultivated for himself, at the beginning of Fury Road, Joe has ensured that his system is as close to infallible as it can get in a world hanging on by a thread.
That carries on to the way he treats his wives, who are nothing more to him than objects hand-picked for their beauty, purity, and intended fertility with one solitary goal in mind. Surprise, surprise, it’s not going to benefit anybody else in the long run other than his direct descendants. Possessions and not people, the initial escape of his harem marks the first chink in Joe’s armour, as they display the sort of agency and free will he worked so hard to stamp out of those that are entirely commodified for his own agenda.
Furiosa’s role in their escape marks her as an outlier. Still, it’s not long before others begin to rebel against Joe’s oppressive regime, which is counteracted by the decision to send an entire army after her. Whereas several high-profile female inhabitants of the Wasteland defy his orders, he keeps a zealot-like stranglehold on the War Boys, who continue to do his bidding, no questions asked. Those gender dynamics are at the heart of Fury Road as a whole, with the War Boys rushing to do his bidding while the very people enslaved to strengthen his grip on power are the ones who ultimately bring him down.
In the end, freedom prevails over tyranny as Joe ends up being mangled by the very apparatus that had been helping keep him alive, with his dehumanisation of everybody placed under his thumb backfiring spectacularly when an intrepid band of opponents decide they simply won’t stand for it anymore. Much to the dismay of the War Boys, he’s not the Messiah. He’s just a very naughty boy.
