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‘Razorback’: A Beautiful, Brutal Eco-Horror from Down Under [Horrors Elsewhere]

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Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure a scream is understood, always and everywhere.

Global infatuation with all things Australia was still under way when Russell Mulcahy unleashed a 1984 movie described as “Jaws on land.” The music-video director’s first feature came out toward the end of Australia’s New Wave era, and like other “Ozploitation” films before it, Razorback paints the outback as a lawless, unforgiving territory. This time, however, danger comes in the form of a giant, insatiable boar hiding in the continent’s treacherous backyard.

Lindsay Chamberlain’s highly publicized, 1980 case is the inspiration behind the movie’s brutal opening. The mother was vacationing in Uluru when her nine-week-old daughter was abducted, and after being convicted of a crime she blamed on a dingo, Chamberlain was later exonerated. Meanwhile, Razorback reimagines the real-life story; kangaroo hunter Jake Cullen (Bill Kerr) is babysitting when the film’s force of nature plows through his home and snatches his grandson, Scotty. Jake is brought up on charges for the boy’s disappearance, but he is ultimately acquitted due to a lack of evidence. Now the town pariah who believes a man-eating, rhino-sized razorback is roaming the area, Jake sets out to clear his name and avenge his grandchild.

Razorback attempts to do for boars what Jaws did for sharks. While Steven Spielberg cast a dark and permanent shadow on the shark’s reputation, Mulcahy’s movie requires more effort when convincing audiences these boars are nothing like Arnold Ziffel or Wilbur. The denizens of this overstated version of the outback are also skeptical toward the idea of a killer razorback. So to better grease the wheels and assure everyone wild hogs can be dangerous, the story immediately establishes no one is safe from the monster. By killing a baby at the film’s start instead of a hapless swimmer or teenage camper, Razorback makes its threat clear. The most innocent victim imaginable is executed with no hesitation. Even without visual confirmation of the infant’s death, Jake’s anguished, desperate howls are proof enough Scotty is long lost.

The bestial antagonists in movies like Razorback often have a symbolic role when they are not killing out of hunger or territorialism. Many analyses of Jaws see the great white as not only a menace to beachgoers but also capitalism. The boar has a similar reading; it stands in the way of Pet Pak, a pet food factory. Before reaching that point, though, the factory’s initial foil is an American reporter and animal rights campaigner named Beth Winters (Judy Morris). Leaving behind her husband Carl (Gregory Harrison) in New York, Beth heads to the outback to investigate the goings-on at Pet Pak.

Morris slips into the role of a do-gooder whose substantial love of animals outweighs her sense of self-preservation. She hopes to get the scoop on Pet Pak’s shady practices like illegally harvesting kangaroos to make dog food, but her rogue methods land her directly in harm’s way. Sadistic goons from the factory — one of whom helped discredit Jake at his trial — chase Beth down in the outback, try to rape her, and then leave her alone with the ravenous razorback. Idealists are not always rewarded in horror, and Beth is no exception to this unwritten rule. As it turns out, her horrifying death serves a higher purpose.

After Beth gets the Marion Crane treatment, husband Carl steps into the protagonist’s shoes. Razorback feels almost like a different movie from here on out, but this narrative curveball is in line with the source material; the novel by Peter Brennan has multiple subplots overlapping one another. Everett De Roche’s screenplay trims the book’s fat — the entire thread about diamond smuggling is cut out  — and adds more razorback action. Before the climactic conclusion comes, Carl first seeks answers from Jake as well as the Pet Pak punks responsible for Beth’s fatal run-in with the boar.

Although it might feel like a mid-film lull, Carl’s protracted journey to closure is not without its benefits. Mulcahy’s history in music videos is transparent all throughout the second act. He and cinematographer Dean Semler draw beauty from a place not always thought of as beautiful in Ozploitation; the outback’s loveliness comes out in spite of its arid climate and precarious geography. Gorgeous, abnormally colored landscapes and uncanny light sources make up some of the more striking visuals here. On top of that are the frightful, Dali-like mirages and hallucinations that do more to illustrate Carl’s state of weariness and grief than dialogue ever could.

Mulcahy’s film is both a testament to the size of the outback — only a region as big and sparsely populated as this could hide such a prodigious animal in plain sight — and an aggressive reminder of mankind’s place in the world. The more people encroach on nature, the more it retaliates. The razorback is one example of how an ecosystem corrects the imbalance; it chooses an agent to remove the poison. The true monster winds up being the American company using Australia’s natural resources and depriving the boar of kangaroos. The razorback would not have to seek out food elsewhere had it not been for Pet Pak. As much as Razorback roots itself in reality without succumbing to unearthly measures, there is a debatable air of magic to the events within. A workable theory has the beast acting on the outback’s hopes and fears, and maybe Beth’s spirit is somehow adding fuel to the fire. Nothing on screen explicitly supports a mystical angle, but in the same vein as Princess Mononoke, the environment finds other means of delaying the inevitable destruction brought on by humans.

Nature’s nightmare is reflected darkly through the razorback’s burning, merciless eyes, and audiences will have trouble looking away. There was a time when Mulcahy’s film was dismissed as too imitative or too oddball, but now it is seen in a whole new light. The story hosts a modest cache of nuance, and the visual output is tremendous. Most of all, buried beneath the ecological dread and creature mayhem is a visual poem about the outback, which has never looked so equally surreal and stark.

Paul Lê is a Texas-based, Tomato approved critic at Bloody Disgusting, Dread Central, and Tales from the Paulside.

Editorials

Six Shot-on-VHS Horror Movies to Watch After ‘Frogman’

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Frogman VHS

Nostalgia is a funny thing. From the unexpected resurgence of vinyl to modern-day flip phones, it’s pretty clear that the technical limitations of the past can often inspire the stylish trends of the future. One of my favorite examples of this is the ongoing analog horror craze, as I find it fascinating how many of the genre’s major creators appear to have been born after the decline of VHS tapes and eerie PSAs.

It’s almost like there’s a subconscious understanding that some stories are best told through fuzzy visuals and heavily compressed audio, which is why I appreciate flicks like Anthony Cousins’s Found Footage throwback Frogman, a cryptozoology-inspired scary movie that dares to incorporate lo-fi aesthetics into its storytelling during a time when most studios encourage filmmakers to make their projects look as generically slick and polished as possible. And if you also enjoyed Frogman and are on the lookout for more VHS-based gems, Bloody-Disgusting has got you covered, as we’ve come up with a list highlighting six shot-on-VHS classics for your viewing pleasure.

As usual, don’t forget to comment below with your own favorite analog thrillers if you think we missed a particularly spooky one. I’d also like to give a shout-out to Bloody-Disgusting’s own long-running V/H/S series, which won’t be included here for obvious reasons.

Now, onto the list…


6. Zero Day (2003)

School shootings are one of the scariest realities of the modern world, but the complicated political elements behind these tragedies mean that most genre filmmakers don’t even try to tell stories about them. There are a few exceptions, however, and one of the most notable is Ben Coccio’s Zero Day, a deeply uncomfortable Found Footage character study that explores just how far ill-intentioned teenagers might go to prove a point.

Inspired by the real-world Columbine Basement Tapes, in which the mass-murderers kept a record of their plans and motivations, Coccio’s film follows a fictional video diary where troubled friends Andre and Calvin discuss their homicidal intentions. Another case where the gritty visuals make the story hit even harder, I’d recommend this one for discerning fans of True Crime media.


5. August Underground (2001)

Out of all the movies on this list, Fred Vogel’s August Underground is simultaneously one of the most fascinating and the hardest to recommend. A simulated snuff film following the exploits of a degenerate serial killer and his deranged filmmaker friend, the low production value and amateurish visuals make this shot-on-video experience even more uncomfortable as you begin to question if it really is just a movie.

And while Vogel would go on to expand on this controversial production with a series of slightly more agreeable sequels that boasted improved visuals, none of the follow-ups can quite compare to the raw thrills of the original. Just make sure that you don’t accidentally pick this one for family movie night if you dare to give it a watch.


4. WNUF Halloween Special (2013)

Frogman VHS list

The only entry on this list produced after the decline of VHS-based media, this 2013 classic still holds up as a convincing masterclass in authentic period-piece horror. A simulated recording of a public access show gone terribly wrong, the WNUF Halloween Special should be on everyone’s spooky season watchlist – though I’d argue that it’s best enjoyed as a background conversation piece during Halloween parties.

From the hilarious yet extremely believable retro advertisements to the not-so-subtle hints of the satanic panic motivating the story, this is a delightful experience even if you weren’t alive back when this kind of TV was still on the air.

And if you like this one, don’t forget to check out the Out There Halloween Mega Tape, which was made by the same director.


3. The McPherson Tape (1989)

Originally made popular by bootleg copies circulating the underground VHS trading scene, there’s no discussing shot-on-video horror without bringing up one of the grandaddies of modern-day Found Footage, the legendary McPherson Tape. Also known as UFO Abduction, this homemade thriller follows a birthday party gone wrong as the Van Heese family is visited by extraterrestrials.

While the flick works better as a terrifying hoax rather than a proper movie due to its odd pacing and general lack of traditional story structure, it’s still a must-watch for Found Footage fans. Just be sure to track down the gritty original, not the 1998 remake, Alien Abduction: Incident in Lake County.


2. Ghostwatch (1992)

Frogman VHS movies

The term “made-for-TV” used to carry some seriously negative connotations in the world of film, with most audiences assuming that this kind of classification meant that they were about to watch low-budget schlock unsuitable for the big screen. However, there were plenty of clever filmmakers that managed to turn the limitations of broadcast television into storytelling tools, and a great example of this is Stephen Volk’s excellent mockumentary, Ghostwatch.

Starring real TV host Sir Michael Parkinson and borrowing details from the infamous Enfield Poltergeist case, this controversial TV special attempted to do for hauntings what Orson Welles’s War of the Worlds radio adaptation did for aliens. And while we’ve seen scarier Found Footage ghost stories in the decades since Ghostwatch premiered, I’d argue that the chilling authenticity behind the production makes it well worth revisiting in 2024.


1. America’s Deadliest Home Video (1993)

Jack Perez’s pioneer POV thriller may not be that well known these days, but this obscure little gem is actually responsible for many Found Footage tropes that we now take for granted. Telling the story of an amateur cameraman who finds himself being kidnapped by a group of criminals during a road trip, this video diary from hell still holds up as a horrific example of grounded Found Footage.

While some questionable acting and convenient story beats sometimes break the carefully crafted immersion, America’s Deadliest Home Video stands out by not only being one of the first of its kind, but also by embracing its amateurish roots instead of being embarrassed by them.


Frogman, which actually was released on VHS, is now available on VOD outlets.

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