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Recap: Mad Max (1979) screening

May 23, 2015

C.M Mad Max 5.10

May 10th, 2015: In anticipation of Fury Road, Cine Meccanica hosted a screening of the film thats started it all…Mad Max (1979)!


On a lovely Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn, guests were welcomed to Northeast Sportscar, which always houses a collection of incredible, rare machines, by myself and a lovely retro modern steed, the shiny red Royal Enfield Continental GT.

The concession stand

Tuck Shop authentic Australian meet pies, Beer Shandies, cold brew coffee, home made sides and Fairy Bread, along with the classic buttered popcorn.

11050644_10152896192961173_8368018148445852925_nThe screening

Motorcyclists, Hot Rodders, and film lovers alike gathered together for this intimate screening of the classic flick.

Huge thanks to Jupiters Motorycles, MotorGrrl, and Beaner Bar and especially our host Northeast Sportscar for making this screening possible!


Fairy Bread

1. Slather a slice of white bread with margarine

2. Sprinkle with rainbow Nonparells

3. Slice bread diagonally into two pieces

4. Enjoy this classic Aussie childrens party treat

Corinna Mantlo

Recap: Ride to…Mad Max Fury Road!

May 23, 2015


On May 10th, in anticipation of the newest Mad Max film, Fury Road, we gathered and watched the original at Northeast Sportscar. Read all about that event here: Mad Max (1979)


Dressing the part with my apocalypse Beezer.

On May 15th, we gathered a second time (some in costume) at MotorGrrl and Bar Matchless to ride out in force to watch Fury Road on the big screen.


Attention to detail. Replica MFP badges on my 1953 Harley Queen motorcycle jacket, the gift  of a dear friend. Thanks Mike!

11226053_10152985506699608_1260264976298763002_nHuge thank you to Williamsburg Cinemas for hooking us up with VIP seating in the front row (though we had the first first three filled at least!), out front parking and last minute tickets to the sold out show to accommodate the crew we rolled in on.

I thoroughly enjoyed the film, an action packed two hour car chase, and while I am a Max purist and this was not that, it brought up some new ideas and direction to the Max brand which were an interesting twist. I was also blown away by the cars and bikes built for the film. Very little CGI here which was such a welcome treat. The weight and power of the apocalypse desert racers could be felt from the safety of our theatre seats. The women of the film also killed it, from the heroin, to the wives, to the last women of the green place, it was such a treat to watch this feminist twist surrounded by my wonderful motorcycle sisters, The Miss-Fires. While I ponder this controversial film a bit longer, I leave you with one of many reviews, by  for The New Yorker.

Corinna Mantlo



High Gear

“Mad Max: Fury Road.”


George Miller’s new film gathers up all that we seem to crave, right now, from our movies, and yanks it to the limit.
George Miller’s new film gathers up all that we seem to crave, right now, from our movies, and yanks it to the limit.

There is a moment, in “Mad Max: Fury Road,” when Max (Tom Hardy) washes blood off his face. This is unsurprising, since he has just engaged in one of many fights, but two points are worthy of note. First, the blood is not his. Second, he washes it off not with water but with mother’s milk, siphoned from a gas tanker. And there, in one image, you have George Miller’s film—wild and unrelenting, but also possessed of the outlandish poetry, laced with hints of humor, that rises to the surface when the world is all churned up.

The movie is set in the near future. There are no cities or civilizations left. The landscape is dying of thirst; water—known as Aqua Cola—is severely rationed; and other resources, notably gasoline, are hoarded and tussled over like scraps of food. Max is a survivor, like everyone else, and, as we join the stream of action, he is captured and hauled into servitude at the Citadel. Girded with towers of rock, this is the desert stronghold of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), a monstrous figure who lords it over a swarm of ragged wretches. His toadlike skin is caged in a transparent breastplate, and he breathes through a mask that’s armed with yellowing horses’ teeth and fed by bellows that wheeze up and down on the back of his neck. Probably a charming fellow, once you get to know him.

Max, being Max, tries to escape, only to be grabbed once more and strapped to the front of a vehicle, like a fender of flesh, with his sturdy features barred by a metal grille. Tom Hardy fans, who struggled so intently to understand him when he played Bane, in “The Dark Knight Rises,” may be less than thrilled to learn that their hero’s speech is yet again impeded. Just as you’re wondering if the poor guy will ever express himself freely, however, Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), a new acquaintance of Max’s, asks, “You want that thing off your face?” The day is saved, though it’s not as if he starts chatting away like Cary Grant in “His Girl Friday.” You could tattoo the entirety of Max’s dialogue onto his biceps. One of his longest lines is “Hope is a mistake.”

Furiosa has a prosthetic arm, and her tendency to smear black grease across her brow may cause the fragrance honchos at Dior, where Theron is paid to spread the word about J’Adore, to reach for their atomizers. Furiosa is a driver, employed by Joe’s henchmen to transport precious fuel, who suddenly goes rogue, steering the War Rig, her vast and snarling truck, off course. A posse is dispatched to hunt her down. We soon discover her concealed cargo—the Wives, five young women who were imprisoned by Immortan Joe and doomed to bear his children. Our first glimpse of them bodes ill: limber beauties, draped in muslin underwear and hosing themselves down in the middle of nowhere. It’s like the start of a Playboy shoot. Yet the film not only recovers but winds up as a testament to female resilience, thanks to the Vuvalini—a small and leathery tribe of matriarchs, described by the film’s production designer as “lovely old bikie chicks.” Astride belching motorcycles, they hare up and down sand dunes, and accompany Max, Furiosa, and the Wives on the final leg of the plot.

I have been looking forward to this movie for months, trying not to watch the trailers more than twice a day, but, fool that I am, I hadn’t foreseen its feminist ambitions—crystallized in the sight of one Wife, heavily pregnant, flinging wide the door of the War Rig and flaunting her belly, like a bronze shield, at her enraged pursuers. (The Wives were coached in preparation for the film by Eve Ensler, the author of “The Vagina Monologues.” This must be a first. Gloria Steinem was never hired as a consultant on “The Dirty Dozen.”) Later comes a droll sequence with a sniper’s rifle, as our hero aims at a searchlight, in the distant gloom, but misses. Only one bullet remains. Furiosa takes the gun and hits the target, using Max’s shoulder as a rest. The tough guy is nothing but a cushion.

We have met Max before. He first appeared in “Mad Max” (1979), as a youthful cop bent on revenge after a murderous attack on his wife and child. His outfit, like his automobile, was of battered black. He returned, in similar guise, in “The Road Warrior” (1981) and “Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome” (1985), opposite a resplendent Tina Turner. All three films were directed by George Miller (he had a co-director on the third), and they have acquired the burnish of a cult. Beware of cult flicks, though, whose reputation sits uneasily on little more than a look; how often did the restive kids who papered their walls with stills of “Easy Rider,” or of Brando in “The Wild One,” sit through the actual movie? The earlier “Mad Max” films, it pains me to report, have not weathered well; they seem overacted and overscored, chuckling at nastiness, and held together mainly by the presence of Mel Gibson in the title role. You watched him as you would a live grenade.

The good news is that “Mad Max: Fury Road” exists in a different league. It lies way, way beyond Thunderdome, and marks one of the few occasions on which a late sequel outdoes what came before. Is it a sequel, though? There are flashbacks to Max’s past, but they are over in seconds, and you can certainly relish the new film, in all its lunatic majesty, without being versed in Maxist dialectics. Indeed, it exults in a proud indifference to backstory. Furiosa mentions her origins, explaining that she was snatched away from “a green place,” but that’s it. As for Max, Hardy is more earthed than Gibson, and less wired—indeed, less mad, propelled not by the engine of wrath but by a solid response to the madness that engulfs the characters like a sandstorm. Max’s deeds rarely strike us as gratuitous. Instead, they seem resignedly brutal, as if there were no other way to live. Whether his deepest desire is for liberty, or simply for a dour solitude, I can’t decide, but I loved the coolness with which, having taken command in battle, he melts away, once it’s over, into the shifting throng.

That wonderful image allows Miller to draw back and survey the scene from on high. Such is the root of his near-mystical prestige as a creator of action films: a bright, instinctive sense of when and where to cut from the telling detail to the wider view, and back again. Those instincts were there in the first “Mad Max,” which, for all its cheapness, picked up rhythm whenever it hit the highway, and they are resurgent here. They connect Miller not so much to the panicky despots of the modern blockbuster, like Michael Bay, as to directors of Hollywood musicals, and to the early choreographers of the chase, in the wordless days when pictures lived by motion alone. In “Mad Max: Fury Road,” the Polecats—aggressors who arc from one vehicle to another, in mid-race, on the end of long stakes—are the descendants of Buster Keaton, who, in “Three Ages,” fell from a roof through three awnings and clutched at a drainpipe, which swung him out into the void and back through an open window.

Some things have changed. Miller’s debt to silent cinema is slightly quelled, in the new film, by the Doof Warrior, who hangs from the front of a truck and thrashes out power chords on his twin-necked guitar, which also acts as a flamethrower. Also, Keaton meant nobody harm, whereas the Polecats are bent on little else, as are the War Boys, the Bullet Farmer, Rictus Erectus, and Slit—unfriendly types, released from the strange laboratory of Miller’s brain. One of the Wives is called Toast the Knowing, and Nicholas Hoult has a blast as a renegade named Nux, who spray-paints his lips silver to supercharge the mood. His dream is to die with honor, “shiny and chrome,” like an exploding machine. All this is such fun, and it teeters so close to insanity, with a hundred and fifty vehicles at Miller’s disposal, and with a pack of cameras sent into the fracas like baying hounds on a scent, that you come out asking, Why is this movie not an unholy mess?

Partly, I think, because Miller treats his story line as Max would treat his car—stripping out superfluity and softness, in the interest of pure speed. Throw charges of implausibility at the film, and they bounce off the hood. Credit must go, too, to John Seale, the director of photography, who was cajoled out of retirement for this project, and who somehow fills every frame to the brim without spilling. As the War Rig growls through a gully, edged with crags of stone, Seale unveils the beauty within the peril, harking back not just to his own work on “The English Patient” but to that of Freddie Young on “Lawrence of Arabia,” in which a camel bore Peter O’Toole through a similar pass. Matched against the golden dirt of the desert is the sad nocturnal blue of a swamp, where scavengers prowl on stilts and where, in an extraordinary spectacle, Max wrestles with a lonely tree, just as Max von Sydow did in Bergman’s “The Virgin Spring.” No one knows if Miller’s film will endure, as David Lean’s and Bergman’s have done, but it must be said that, for better or worse, “Mad Max: Fury Road” gathers up all that we seem to crave, right now, from our movies, and yanks it to the limit. For anyone who denied that “Titus Andronicus” could ever be mashed up with “The Cannonball Run,” here is your answer, and we are only too happy to follow Nux as he cries, “What a lovely day!,” and accelerates into a whirlwind of fire. Enjoy the movie, but for God’s sake don’t drive home. ♦

Oh what a day, what a lovely day!

May 13, 2015


There’s no going back!


8pm meet at Bar Matchless, 557 Manhattan ave, bklyn 11222

9pm Kickstands! ride to WILLIAMSBURG CINEMA, 217 Grand Street, Bklyn 11211 (park, concessions, seating)

9:45pm FILM


I was a cop searching for a righteous course.

An apocalyptic story set in the furthest reaches of our planet, in a stark desert landscape where humanity is broken, and almost everyone is crazed fighting for the necessities of life. Within this world exist two rebels on the run who just might be able to restore order. There’s Max, a man of action and a man of few words, who seeks peace of mind following the loss of his wife and child in the aftermath of the chaos. And Furiosa, a woman of action and a woman who believes her path to survival may be achieved if she can make it across the desert back to her childhood homeland. – IMDB


I live, I die. I LIVE AGAIN!

Cars? yea it’s got cars: Read “Every Killer Car in Mad Max: Fury RoadExplained” – Bloomberg Business

See you at the flicks!


Stories Of Bike: Discovery

May 11, 2015

C.M Stories Of Bike 5.14

Cine Meccanica is thrilled to present the NY Premier (before it’s released to the world online) of the newest episode of Stories Of Bike by Cam Elkins. This episode features Kristen Reed and her Triumph. Below is her story from The Miss-Fires website. This screening will be hosted by Northeast Sportscar in Brooklyn. 

See you at the flicks!



I’ve heard that either life happens to you or you happen to life. I often find myself bouncing between a healthy mix of the two. I thrive on new experiences yet love the surprise of things outside my control. I timidly joined the Miss-Fires crew earlier this year without knowing a single member, and I often reflect on and appreciate the special friendships I have made and the countless days of fun we have had together since. I continue to be amazed at how my life has taken a turn for the better.

Through this lovely group of ladies, I was informed of an opportunity to be part of a special project undertaken by the talented Cam Elkins, a filmmaker based in Sydney, Australia. He was coming to New York for the showing of two of his films in the Motorcycle Film Festival and wanted to shoot an episode for his web-based series, Stories of Bike, while in New York. I admittedly knew nothing about Cam’s project at the time, but the idea sounded like fun so I spontaneously put together an application and sent him some photos. To my surprise, he contacted me a few days later to say I’d been selected.

Photo by Hayley Reed

Wasn’t there someone with a more compelling story than mine? Wasn’t there a rider who’s father’s dying wish was that his son carry on the tradition to ride like they had spent their lives doing together? At first I was excited. Then nerves set in. I never thought of myself as a natural in front of cameras, and I doubted my ability to provide an interesting experience for Cam and his viewers. But there was no turning back so I disregarded my concerns, went with the flow and followed his lead. Then I called my best friend, Jill, who owns a salon and spa in Oklahoma to get her to fly to New York for moral support and beauty assistance.

Cam arrived a week later and wanted to have an informal dinner together before shooting began in order to get acquainted with each other so I took him to a local favorite in Wlliamsburg, where I live. He greeted me with a friendly hug, and I immediately found him incredibly easy to talk to. His down-to-earth vibe comforted me and peaked my interest in his life. Reversing the roles a bit, I inquired extensively about his life and experience with photography. At that point, I had finally watched one of his episodes, thinking I should probably educate myself on my upcoming adventure, and I found the show to be incredibly professional so was surprised to learn he had been working solo for a year and a half. This guy’s ambition and creativity impressed the hell out of me. The rest of the evening was absent of any awkward silences and full of laughs and story sharing. Any remaining nerves were completely shattered, and all I could anticipate was the fun that laid ahead.

Two days later, shooting began. A local cinematographer, Brian Stansfield, had contacted Cam to offer support to his project, and Cam agreed after recognizing some benefits. It would be the first time Cam collaborated with someone on Stories of Bike. Brian and Cam showed up at my apartment with loads of equipment at dusk after a rainy day, just when the clouds were beginning to clear. We b-lined it to my rooftop where the orange sun seeped through a cloud clearance over Manhattan creating a fiery halo over the city with multiple rainbows above. The timing could not have been more perfect for cityscape footage for the show.

Photo by Cam Elkins

Photo by Jill Johnson

Once the sun settled on the other side of New Jersey, we retreated back inside where setup began for the interview portion. They converted my living room into a temporary studio complete with professional lights, cameras and makeup. I sat with a camera in my face for three hours while getting drilled about my relationship with my Bonneville and how it has transformed my life in New York City.

Cam and Brian

To some questions, my answers came easily. To others, I found myself struggling to articulate sentiments that coincided with Cam’s vision of my story. Notwithstanding the speed bumps that littered the interview, my answer to Cam’s final question came out emotively and without hesitation. He showed his approval with a big smile and a thumb’s up. Once the camera stopped recording, he shouted a loud “Yeah!!”, which gave me a strong feeling of relief and accomplishment, and I stood up to give him an enthusiastic high five. Then I wiped off my makeup and we went for tacos.

The next phase of shooting was the “b-roll” (the alternate footage intercut with the interview, for those who need to google it like I did). We rented a minivan that Jill drove around with Cam and Brian shooting from the back with the trunk wide open.

Brian and his partner

Photo by Jill Johnson

Pausing for a photo op

I followed them around Williamsburg on a sunny and lively Saturday morning while pedestrians watched with curiosity. Then I had to head to band rehearsal, which Cam wanted to get footage of, so we swung by Susan’s place (the singer/songwriter of the band). The two of us straddled the bike with our guitars slung over our backs, followed the minivan and headed to our rehearsal space in Bushwick.

The next day, Cam suggested I get some friends to ride with me at theDistinguished Gentleman’s Ride so I recruited some Triumph-riding girls to join me in dressing dapper for the occasion.

Photo by Cam Elkins

Photo by Cam Elkins

After getting some cool footage again riding behind the minivan on the way over to the meeting point in the West Village, we pulled up to join about 100 bikes just before departure time. I immediately noticed that we and a couple of other Miss-Fires who met us there were the only girls riding bikes. I spotted two other dapper girls daringly adorned in short dresses riding on the backs of others, but our gang definitely skewed the gender ratio.

Adriana in the front!

Photo by Cam Elkins

We had a blast riding through the city streets garbed as we were. The highlight for me, surprisingly, was the route through Times Square where almost everyone stopped to watch and take pictures of remarkably well-dressed people overtaking the tourist haven on vintage-style bikes. I couldn’t help but take advantage of the attention to show off a little and do some tricks on my bike, such as standing up on the pegs (my bravery only goes so far). Unfortunately, Cam and Brian only got footage during the meeting points, so this scene will have to live on in the memories of those present and in this blog post. They did however, get the best shot of the group photo we took at Washington Square Park.

Photo by Brian Stansfield

Cam had to depart New York a couple of days later and we didn’t get the chance to finish shooting, so I’ll be meeting with Brian soon to wrap that up. I’ll definitely be missing Cam’s presence though. We spent the days shooting so focused on the experience that we often forgot to feed ourselves. My mind was completely consumed by the fun I was having and the project we were working on. Between the work we did in making the episode, the time spent at the Motorcycle Film Festival and evening dinners and rides, the experience surpassed all my wildest expectations all because of the great new friend I had made. After seeing some still shots of the footage and hearing Cam’s excitement over it, I think the final product will be incredible. Stay tuned!

Photo by Brian Stansfield

By Kristen Reed

He Rules The Road!

May 4, 2015

C.M Mad Max 5.10Cine Meccanica is mixing it up this spring. new venues, same old shenanigans!

Join us at Northeast Sportscar in Brooklyn this Sunday, May 10th 5-8pm for a screening of the original Mad Max (1979), in anticipation of the newest film ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’ which opens in select theaters on May 15th.

Huge thanks to our wonderful sponsors!


Plus raffles, give aways, and authentic Aussie eat’s. See you at the flicks!


I am the Nightrider. I’m a fuel injected suicide machine. I am the rocker, I am the roller, I am the out-of-controller!

In a dystopian future Australia, law & order has begun to break down. Berserk motorcycle gang member, Crawford “Nightrider” Montizano, has escaped police custody and is attempting to outrun the Main Force Patrol (MFP) in a stolen Pursuit Special (Holden Monaro). Though he manages to elude his initial pursuers, the MFP’s top pursuit man, Max Rockatansky, then engages the less-skilled Nightrider in a high-speed chase, resulting in the death of Nightrider in a fiery crash.

Whacked right out of his skull man! He ain’t never comin’ back!

Nightrider’s motorcycle gang, led by Toecutter and Bubba Zanetti, is running roughshod over a town, vandalizing property, stealing fuel and terrorizing the populace. Max and officer Jim “Goose” Rains arrest Toecutter’s young protege, Johnny “the Boy” Boyle, when Johnny, too high to ride, stays behind after the gang rapes a young couple. When no witnesses appear for his trial, the courts throw the case out and Johnny is released. An angry Goose attacks Johnny and must be held back; both men shout threats of revenge. After Toecutter drags Johnny away, MFP Captain Fred “Fifi” McPhee tells his officers to do whatever it takes to apprehend the gangs, “so long as the paperwork’s clean.”

The blasphemer. I don’t have to work with the blasphemer

A short time later, Johnny sabotages Goose’s motorcycle; it locks up at high speed, throwing Goose from the bike. Goose is unharmed, though his bike is badly damaged; he borrows a ute to haul his bike back. However, Johnny and Toecutter’s gang are waiting in ambush. Johnny throws a brake drum at Goose’s windshield, which shatters and causes Goose to crash the ute; Toecutter then instructs Johnny to throw a match into the gasoline leaking from Goose’s wrecked ute, while Goose is trapped inside. Johnny refuses; Toecutter first cajoles, then verbally and physically abuses him. Johnny eventually throws the lit match into the wreckage, which erupts in flames.

Like the sign says, speed’s just a question of money. How fast you wanna go?

Goose is severely burned. After seeing his charred body in the hospital, Max becomes disillusioned with the Police Force. Worried of what may happen if he continues working for the MFP – and that he is beginning to enjoy the insanity – Max announces to Fifi that he is resigning from the MFP. Fifi convinces him to take a holiday first before making his final decision.

They say people don’t believe in heroes anymore. Well, damn them! You and me, Max, we’re gonna give ‘em back their heroes!

While at the coast, Max’s wife, Jessie and their infant son run into Toecutter’s gang, who attempt to rape her. She flees, but the gang later finds them again at the remote farm where she and Max are staying. The gang runs over Jessie and their son as they try to escape, leaving their crushed bodies in the middle of the road. Max arrives too late to save them.

He knows who I am. I am the Nightrider! I am the chosen one. The mighty hand of vengeance, sent down to strike the unroadworthy! I’m hotter than a rollin’ dice. Step right up, germ, and watch the kid lay down the rubber road, ride to freedom!

Filled with rage, Max dons his police leathers and takes a supercharged black Pursuit Special (Ford Falcon XB GT 351) to pursue the gang. After torturing a mechanic for information, Max methodically hunts down the gang members: he forces several of them off a bridge at high speed, shoots Bubba at point blank range with his shotgun, and forces Toecutter into the path of a semi-trailer truck. During the struggle, Bubba runs over Max’s arm and shoots him in the knee, which Max braces with a makeshift splint. Max finally finds Johnny, who is taking the boots off a car crash victim. He handcuffs Johnny’s ankle to the wrecked vehicle and sets a crude time-delay fuse. Throwing Johnny a hacksaw, Max leaves him the choice of sawing through either the handcuffs (which will take ten minutes) or his ankle (which will take five minutes). As an emotionless Max drives away, the vehicle explodes.

– This week’s review courtesy of wikipedia

Watch the trailer


January 9, 2015

Cine Meccanica may be on holiday, but The Motorcycle Film Festival isn’t.

It’s a great honor to be able to pay homage to the vehicular flicks of the past here, while bringing to the public, today’s two wheeled films over at the MFF. So, dig out the cameras, gas up the bikes, spread the word to any filmmakers who’ve been itching to tell a new tale, or remake a a motorized cult classic, then get them on in before the deadline this May. follow the MFF on instagram @motofilmfest and our Facebook page for updates.

See you at the flicks!

Corinna Mantlo

proud co-founder of The Motorcycle Film Festival



The Motorcycle Film Festival is an idea whose time has come: we are in the midst of the biggest creative boom centered on motorcycles since the 1970s. Every motorcycle customizer has an in-house filmmaker, and every hip moto-event from Biarritz to Melbourne has built-in paparazzi; we can re-live the antics of fellow bikers on YouTube, or gasp at masterworks from talented videographers, who often unwittingly work side by side. The massive, youthful rise of moto-mania has excited big motorcycle factories to collaborate with rising garage artists, and has inspired professional filmmakers that now is the time to produce that long-dreamt two-wheel feature film.

Submissions are open to any and all films in which motorcycles or motorcycling is an intrinsic element. Meaning, please ONLY submit films that are about or prominently feature motorcycles. Just because there’s a sweet chopper in the background of the opening credits doesn’t mean it’s a “Motorcycle Movie.”

All films submitted will be watched by a panel of judges and considered for ‘Official Selection’ to be screened at the 2014 festival. Submission in no way guarantees screening.

Submit your film via FILM FREEWAY using the BUTTON below. Film Freeway does not add any convenience fees to the filmmaker, and it allows us to best accept and manage film submissions.

Awards & Prizes

Best Of Festival
Feature Documentary
Feature Narrative
Short Documentary
Short Narrative
Short Experimental
Peoples Choice

Exact prizes to be determined before the festival based on this years judging panel. All of last year’s category winners received a custom trophy. In addition the “Best Of Festival” winner received $2000 and a loaner motorcycle (courtesy of Honda) to make the this year’s festival trailer. This years prizes will meet or exceed last year’s.

Rules & Terms: The 3rd Motorcycle Film Festival will take place in New York in September 2015.
After the New York event, the MFF will tour the lineup to other cities around the world, screening official selections and winning films from the 3rd MFF.

Submission Deadlines:
Submissions will be accepted starting January 5th 2015.
Regular deadline is May 1 2015
Late deadline is June 1 2015
Early entry is encouraged but in no way guarantees acceptance.

All films must be in English or subtitled in English.

By submitting to the Motorcycle Film Festival, submitter authorizes the Motorcycle Film Festival (MFF) to exhibit your film, or segments of your film at any and all MFF events. Submitter authorizes the MFF to use segments or stills from submitted films for use in in print and digital promotional materials. Submission does not guarantee ‘official selection’ or screening at the festival. All entries will be kept by the Motorcycle Film Festival and stored in our archives in perpetuity.

If your submission is chosen, you will be asked to provide a screening quality file of the film. Please be prepared to send a file meeting these specs:
– .MOV file format
– 1920×1080 resolution

If you are unable to provide a file with these specs, please contact us as we may be unable to screen your film.

Please email with all questions and concerns.

We can’t wait to see what you’ve been working on!

– The MFF Staff

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…Dyin’ time’s here.

December 13, 2014

Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome (1985)

Wednesday, December 17th

Films starts at 8pm

Lady Jay’s

633 Grand St (bet Leonard & Manhattan), Bklyn, NY 11211

Free popcorn, Juke Box Meccanica, $2 Bingo for Prizes. PRIZES!


Welcome, to another edition of Thunderdome!

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome is a Golden Globe-nominated1985 film, the third installment in the action movie Mad Maxfranchise, succeeding The Road Warrior. The film was directed byGeorge Miller and George Ogilvie, and stars Mel Gibson and Tina Turner. The original music score was composed by Maurice Jarre.


A lone warrior searching for his destiny…a tribe of lost children waiting for a hero…in a world battling to survive, they face a woman determined to rule.

Driving a camel-powered truck across the desert, Max (Mel Gibson) is attacked by the airborne bandit Jedediah (Bruce Spence), who manages to steal both his belongings and his vehicle. Max walks and finally stumbles upon the only nearby human outpost in the wasteland that remains—the seedy community of Bartertown, founded and nominally run by the ruthless Aunty Entity (Tina Turner).


Max is back…and Tina’s got him!

In Bartertown, electricity, vehicles, functioning technology—all almost unheard of in this post-apocalyptic world—are made possible by a crude methane refinery, fueled by pig faeces, using a weathered semi tractor as the electricity generator. The refinery is located under Bartertown and is operated by the smart, diminutiveMaster (Angelo Rossitto), who is harnessed to his enormously strong, but dim-witted bodyguard known as Blaster (Paul Larsson). Together, “Master Blaster” hold an uneasy power-truce with Entity for control of Bartertown; however, Master is beginning to exploit his position with energy “embargoes,” challenging Auntie’s leadership. She is furious with him but cannot challenge him publicly, as Master is the only one with the technical know-how to operate the machinery that powers Bartertown. The controlled chaos of Bartertown is maintained by a set of inflexible laws, including one that states that no deal can be broken, for any reason. The punishment for breaking this law is equally inflexible and invoked with the simple phrase, “bust a deal, face the wheel.”


Remember: no matter where you go, there you are.

Entity recognizes Max as a resourceful (if disposable) fighter, and strikes a deal with him to provoke a duel with and kill Blaster in the “Thunderdome,” a gladiatorial-esque arena where conflicts are resolved, turning what is arguably a political assassination into a lawful act. Max goes to the Underworld, where he befriends a convict who was imprisoned for killing a pig in order to feed his children, and thus nicknamed Pig Killer (Robert Grubb). The rules of matches in the Thunderdome, as chanted by onlookers crowding the arena, are simple and singular—”two men enter, one man leaves.” After a stunningly long and difficult match, Max defeats Blaster, but refuses to kill him when he discovers that Blaster is a man with the mind of a child. An enraged Auntie has Blaster executed and invokes their single law since Max broke his deal with her. The wheel, which serves as a judge and jury, turns out to be a large, spinning metal disc (similar to a Wheel of Fortune) with an arrow pointing to one of several consequences. Possible consequences include Death, Hard Labour, Acquittal, Gulag, Aunty’s Choice, Spin Again, Forfeit Goods, Underworld, Amputation, and Life Imprisonment. When spun for Max, it lands on “Gulag.” He is cast out of Bartertown and exiled to the desert wastes.


Two men enter. One man leaves.

The story radically shifts gears at this point. Some time later, Max, near death due to exposure to the hostile conditions, is saved by a group of children led by Savannah Nix (Helen Buday). The children, hardened to the desert environment, are survivors (or the children of survivors) of a nearby QANTAS Boeing 747 plane crash, and have formed a sort of tribal community in the sheltered desert Oasis in which they live. Clinging to their hopes of rescue, they keep their fading memories of the past civilization alive in the form of ritualistic spoken “tells” which hinge on the return of a messianic “Captain Walker” who will repair their shattered aircraft and return them to civilization. The “tell” explains that Flight Captain G.L. Walker at one point took most of the surviving adults to seek help, promising they would be back to rescue the rest, but never returned. Max’s appearance and physical resemblance to Walker make the children believe that he has indeed returned to take them to “Tomorrow-morrow Land,” or back to civilization as it once was. After nursing him back to health, they are shocked to hear Max’s account of the dystopic state of the world and become angry at his insistence that they all remain living in the relative safety of the oasis, knowing that the only “civilization” within reach is Bartertown.


Hold out for Mad Max. This is his greatest adventure.

Some of the children decide to leave anyway, determined to find “Tomorrow-morrow land,” the mythic place they believe their parents left them to find. Max goes after them.

The third act begins as Max catches up with them at the outskirts of Bartertown. They sneak in, intent on finding Master. Without Blaster to protect him, the dwarfish Master is little more than Auntie’s slave. Max and the children free him (with the assistance of Pig Killer, who is also freed), but alert the guards, and a frenetic chase ensues, resulting in Bartertown’s methane factory becoming damaged and causing explosions, ending at the hideout of Jedediah. Max coerces him to help them escape in Jedediah’s Transavia PL-12 Airtruk, but there is not enough room for them all. Max stays behind, heroically clearing a path through the pursuing vehicles so the plane has enough runway to take off. Having earned her respect with his bravery, Aunty spares Max’s life.


Listen all! This is the truth of it. Fighting leads to killing, and killing gets to warring. And that was damn near the death of us all. Look at us now! Busted up, and everyone talking about hard rain! But we’ve learned, by the dust of them all… Bartertown learned. Now, when men get to fighting, it happens here! And it finishes here! Two men enter; one man leaves.

The story shifts to many years later, when the much older children are seen in the ruins of a destroyed Sydney(then “Tomorrow-Morrow Land”), lit up by thousands of fires and lights. Savannah, the leader of the children, recites a nightly “tell” of their journey.

This movie provides additional back story to the original Mad Max and Mad Max 2, showing a nuclear war following the energy crisis referenced in the beginning of Mad Max 2.

– movie write up courtesy of MadMax.Wikia.Com



CM dec 2014


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