SCORCHED EARTH ALERT: Raul Gasteazoro just dropped the trailer for ‘The Protector,' and post-apocalyptic fanatics are SCREAMING—mostly because it's like Mad Max ran a fever dream, married Waterworld, and gave birth to a dirt-caked outlaw sporting a death wish and a killer map.
We're not talking blockbuster gloss here; this one looks stitched together by sheer force of will (and probably duct tape). Picture this: American West, after the water wars. No Netflix. No hope. Only “Dirt-Joust”—a gas-guzzling, drag-racing orgy where the only prize is, well, not dying immediately. Our antihero, Key (Marguerite Moreau—channeling equal parts Imperator Furiosa and “I can't believe I got roped into this”), is shackled by regret, a prison sentence, and the fate of the region's last glass of drinkable water. If you're not sweating by now, check your pulse.
Here's the part that derails the wagon: the only oasis left is buried under a booby-trapped Native American reservation, and Key's the only one with the cheat code. Enter Gael and the Revelers—a Mad Maxian cosplay gang of desert anti-heroes straight out of central casting, but with enough lawless energy to scare Burning Man attendees back indoors. Stunt people, extras, and enough dust to make your lungs seize: you'll either love this or need a tetanus shot.
Let's call it out—this flick owes its DNA to a whole wasteland cult:
- Mad Max: The blueprint (obviously), but minus the Hollywood calories.
- Waterworld: Swap salt for sand, gills for dirt bikes.
- Turbo Kid: That homebrew ambition and end-times snark.
But here's the deranged twist: children are almost extinct, water's a currency, and the “hero” is already broken. It's like the streaming wars, but thirstier and with actual casualties. As one anonymous crew member allegedly grumbled to IndieWire, “We lived off instant ramen and bargains with coyotes. If you spot any plot holes, blame heatstroke.”
This isn't the first time Hollywood's raided the doomsday dumpster. In the last decade—see “Love and Monsters” or SyFy's ‘Blood Drive'—DIY-apocalypse flicks are on a sugar rush, hoping audiences will forgive recycled tropes if the engines roar loud enough. But here's the uncomfortable truth: most grind themselves into mediocrity. ‘The Protector' could be different—the passion is showing, the stakes are bonkers, and those who stick with lo-fi rebels may find something gnarly, even poignant, buried beneath the sand.
So what now—will you guzzle it, or spit it out? Genius or garbage? Would you watch this or spend that $20 on actual water? (No shame if you're already hydrated.)
