Thrillers set in the Australian outback all tend to benefit from one thing: the land. It's so vast, wild and primeval that it's an alien environment for everyone except those few hardy souls who eke out their existence on it.
In likable rom-com CROCODILE DUNDEE we were presented to one such community, a remote outpost full of rough and ready but benign country folk eager to offer a welcoming hand. But in WOLF CREEK this image is flipped dangerously onto its head. Suddenly we're reminded how easily some aberration, like a sadistic serial killer, could use this rugged wilderness to hunt down human prey and remain undetected maybe for his entire murderous career.
The film's main strength is probably John Jarratt, whose psychopathic Mick Taylor is probably one of the most realistic human predators ever put on celluloid. This is a man who tortures and murders people because he enjoys it. As a sideline he also cannibalises their vehicles and stockpiles their goods. But the main reason he lures people to their doom is because he likes doing it it gives him pleasure. This may be the hobby of a complete madman, yet it's the only aspect of his character that is mad. The rest of him is perfectly normal: he's witty, interesting to talk to, handy with cars, he can live comfortably in the outback, and nine times out of ten if it's impossible for him to secretly kill and dispose of you then he probably will give you a hand and send you safely on your way.
Acting plaudits must also go to victims Cassie Magrath, Nathan Philips and Kestie Morassi, who really capture the essence of the twenty-something backpacker crowd, carefree youngsters who think they've seen and done it all and yet, as happens so often in real life, are completely unprepared for the monster they're about to stumble upon.
Writer and director Greg McLean is the driving-force behind this excellent if understated horror movie. Though he uses a handy-cam for much of the film, the finished product is a visual delight. McLean doesn't just handle the cast and action with supreme skill, but is an artist as well, producing endless studied portraits of his native land, the sheer savagery of which he evidently loves and fears in equal measure.
The same subtleties apply to the script. From the outset, McLean is clearly determined to avoid the blood-soaked clichés that bedevil so many movies where townies have strayed into the grasp of evil backwoodsmen. Though the violence is brutish and nasty, it's short-lived and non-gratuitous. As stated earlier, the killer is a real man with a life to lead, not some disfigured maniac. His methods of entrapment are simple and workmanlike, and the responses of the main characters when they finally realise what's happening to them are totally believable: they're almost paralysed with shock and horror, they become squabbling, guttural animals who'll do anything to survive, and as such make mistake after mistake. There's minimal dialogue, yet the story is told in full, with no questions left unanswered except those that McLean wants to be left unanswered.
And that's a key point, because there is mystery here as well as horror.
It is very slightly hinted at that Mick Taylor might be a Vietnam veteran, but the truth is that we don't know and we don't need to know. Where's he come from, where's he going? None of this matters. He's a force of nature, a creature of the outback, a nameless thing that dwells in the wasteland. And if this sounds a tad supernatural, then there are elements of that as well. Taylor captures all his victims at Wolf Creek, the giant meteorite crater in the Kimberley wildlife park. This is an eerie enough place as it is, but when Taylor arrives, everyone's watches stop and their vehicles conk out (okay, the cars have probably been sabotaged by Taylor, but the effect is the same). It's as though nature is conspiring with one of its own, as though an entirely separate time-zone has been created. And such is the skill with which this is implied, that we don't really need or even want any explanations. We just accept it.
All in all, a remarkable and yet quite horrible piece of film-making. Many have seen it and said they enjoyed it, and yet have commented that they wouldn't want to watch it again. An unusual but completely understandable reaction, and it's not because this movie is filled with grotesque violence. It isn't it's a very slow burner, and when the horror does come, it's mostly suggested rather than visualised. The real answer is that it's terrifying, almost to a point where watching it becomes a disturbing experience. Even though the first half-hour is amiable and uneventful, you have a really bad feeling that something awful is going to happen. When the hapless trio are stranded, and Taylor's headlights emerge through the darkness of the desert night, even the most hardened horror movie addicts must admit to being scared out of their wits. When the guy himself appears and his avuncular style creates a huge sense of relief both for the audience as well as the characters it doesn't last, because deep down you know that something is still going to go seriously wrong.
The final shot, where Taylor literally vanishes into the landscape, as he no doubt always does when the law gets too near, is the icing on the cake, because, like it or not, we're aware that it's all too alarmingly real. Who is the world's deadliest serial killer?, you ask yourself. Answer: the one who's never been caught.
In likable rom-com CROCODILE DUNDEE we were presented to one such community, a remote outpost full of rough and ready but benign country folk eager to offer a welcoming hand. But in WOLF CREEK this image is flipped dangerously onto its head. Suddenly we're reminded how easily some aberration, like a sadistic serial killer, could use this rugged wilderness to hunt down human prey and remain undetected maybe for his entire murderous career.
The film's main strength is probably John Jarratt, whose psychopathic Mick Taylor is probably one of the most realistic human predators ever put on celluloid. This is a man who tortures and murders people because he enjoys it. As a sideline he also cannibalises their vehicles and stockpiles their goods. But the main reason he lures people to their doom is because he likes doing it it gives him pleasure. This may be the hobby of a complete madman, yet it's the only aspect of his character that is mad. The rest of him is perfectly normal: he's witty, interesting to talk to, handy with cars, he can live comfortably in the outback, and nine times out of ten if it's impossible for him to secretly kill and dispose of you then he probably will give you a hand and send you safely on your way.
Acting plaudits must also go to victims Cassie Magrath, Nathan Philips and Kestie Morassi, who really capture the essence of the twenty-something backpacker crowd, carefree youngsters who think they've seen and done it all and yet, as happens so often in real life, are completely unprepared for the monster they're about to stumble upon.
Writer and director Greg McLean is the driving-force behind this excellent if understated horror movie. Though he uses a handy-cam for much of the film, the finished product is a visual delight. McLean doesn't just handle the cast and action with supreme skill, but is an artist as well, producing endless studied portraits of his native land, the sheer savagery of which he evidently loves and fears in equal measure.
The same subtleties apply to the script. From the outset, McLean is clearly determined to avoid the blood-soaked clichés that bedevil so many movies where townies have strayed into the grasp of evil backwoodsmen. Though the violence is brutish and nasty, it's short-lived and non-gratuitous. As stated earlier, the killer is a real man with a life to lead, not some disfigured maniac. His methods of entrapment are simple and workmanlike, and the responses of the main characters when they finally realise what's happening to them are totally believable: they're almost paralysed with shock and horror, they become squabbling, guttural animals who'll do anything to survive, and as such make mistake after mistake. There's minimal dialogue, yet the story is told in full, with no questions left unanswered except those that McLean wants to be left unanswered.
And that's a key point, because there is mystery here as well as horror.
It is very slightly hinted at that Mick Taylor might be a Vietnam veteran, but the truth is that we don't know and we don't need to know. Where's he come from, where's he going? None of this matters. He's a force of nature, a creature of the outback, a nameless thing that dwells in the wasteland. And if this sounds a tad supernatural, then there are elements of that as well. Taylor captures all his victims at Wolf Creek, the giant meteorite crater in the Kimberley wildlife park. This is an eerie enough place as it is, but when Taylor arrives, everyone's watches stop and their vehicles conk out (okay, the cars have probably been sabotaged by Taylor, but the effect is the same). It's as though nature is conspiring with one of its own, as though an entirely separate time-zone has been created. And such is the skill with which this is implied, that we don't really need or even want any explanations. We just accept it.
All in all, a remarkable and yet quite horrible piece of film-making. Many have seen it and said they enjoyed it, and yet have commented that they wouldn't want to watch it again. An unusual but completely understandable reaction, and it's not because this movie is filled with grotesque violence. It isn't it's a very slow burner, and when the horror does come, it's mostly suggested rather than visualised. The real answer is that it's terrifying, almost to a point where watching it becomes a disturbing experience. Even though the first half-hour is amiable and uneventful, you have a really bad feeling that something awful is going to happen. When the hapless trio are stranded, and Taylor's headlights emerge through the darkness of the desert night, even the most hardened horror movie addicts must admit to being scared out of their wits. When the guy himself appears and his avuncular style creates a huge sense of relief both for the audience as well as the characters it doesn't last, because deep down you know that something is still going to go seriously wrong.
The final shot, where Taylor literally vanishes into the landscape, as he no doubt always does when the law gets too near, is the icing on the cake, because, like it or not, we're aware that it's all too alarmingly real. Who is the world's deadliest serial killer?, you ask yourself. Answer: the one who's never been caught.