Editorials
‘Crocodile’ – Biting Back into Tobe Hooper’s 2000 Nature Slasher
It was somewhere around the mid-1990s when animal horror came back into style. Not since the first cinema cycles of ecological and natural horror, specifically the ’50s through the ‘70s, had there been such a stampede of creature-caused carnage. Jurassic Park was a key influence in this new wave of faunal frights, however, Anaconda and Lake Placid are better blueprints for what all came next. The DNA of those two films can be sensed in the more modestly made Crocodile (2000), which stands out from the pack on account of its director, Tobe Hooper.
As Hooper fans know, Crocodile was not the first work of his to have a major croc component; Eaten Alive showed the guests of the Starlight Hotel becoming meals for the proprietor’s scaly pet. Observant viewers may wonder if these two Hooper horrors are connected, seeing as they have parallels, such as man-eating reptiles and deranged hoteliers. A hixploitation element is also present — and random — in Crocodile, albeit minimally. Whereas in Eaten Alive, the story is, at least atmospherically, Southern fried. So although the films are self-contained, there is occasional overlap on the surface.
Only one species of crocodile is endemic to the U.S., but Hooper’s film is neither set in Florida nor does it star an American crocodile. The gargantuan here is really a Nile specimen, she resides somewhere in California, and she is the centerpiece of Crocodile’s in-universe folklore. For sure, young people fall prey to a bloodthirsty killer here, yet this film feels the most like a traditional teen slasher when, early on, the characters sit around a campfire and soak up a story about the legendary “Flat Dog.”
Image: Caitlin Martin and Mark McLachlan’s characters scold Chris Solari and Greg Wayne’s characters.
After the story’s collegiate characters arrive at their Spring Break destination, Crocodile provides an always genre-approved infodump about the antagonist in store. As the storyteller among these eight co-eds explains, an early 20th-century hotel owner named Harlan Clemens turned his African import into a worshipped idol. This led to a kind of cult following before the townsfolk grew tired of Clemens’ “un-Christian” ways. The shrine to Flat Dog, along with her freshly laid eggs, was destroyed, and now she haunts Lake Sobek. This backstory of an abandoned, crocodilian goddess would have made for a more interesting film, but alas, that is not what Hooper made.
The only curvature of Crocodile lies in the film’s namesake. Indeed, the story is straightforward, and the maternal menace is often more serpentine and agile than nature ever intended. However, the script — the work of Boaz Davidson and Michael D. Weiss, then partners Adam Gierasch and Jace Anderson — brought out a sympathetic quality in Flat Dog. That aspect, the central conceit of the story, echoes various past animal horror films; the dangerous creature is acting on human emotions and ethics. And if any director knows how to steer a murderous frenzy and let anguish and rage run rampant, it would be Hooper.
Devastated by industrial capitalism, the family in Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) was left to fend for itself. On a different but similar wavelength, Flat Dog was forced to live in a world not of her own, then persevere in that increasingly grim environment where hers and her family’s survival demanded drastic measures. Following that train of thought, the eponymous star of Crocodile is also something of a victim herself. The very waters she escaped to, following the downfall of her sanctum, have become gradually unsafe, especially around tourist seasons. Not only are there the locals who endanger her offspring, there are now heedless vacationers whose first response to seeing a nest of eggs is to violate them. These visiting trespassers manhandle and pilfer the eggs, and their pet dog consumes the rest. Flat Dog’s response is, understandably, merciless.
Image: Flat Dog finds the guilty party.
While the human characters in other natural horror films have been known to just be in the wrong place at the wrong time, the ones in Crocodile are directly paying for their lapse in judgment. Not everyone among this group is guilty of a crime against nature, but they are guilty by association — and that is plenty of reason for Flat Dog to mete out swift, godlike punishment. Other similar films find animals fighting back after an age of maltreatment or contamination, or they are fed up with the invasion and man-made deterioration of their territory. At that point, these films are contradicting the notion of natural because they have created a sort of “supernature” where perceived threats are dealt with accordingly as well as abnormally. Crocodile is not so eco-conscious, given how Flat Dog is really exacting her own revenge as opposed to being Mother Nature’s enforcer.
With Crocodile anthropomorphizing Flat Dog, namely giving her the drive to stalk and kill for her family, the film removes a good deal of humanness from the actual human characters. The most rational of the lot, Brady (Mark McLachlan) and girlfriend Claire (Caitlin Martin), are simply charged with complicity, but their friends — primarily doofus Duncan (Chris Solari) and the other men — are responsible for the ensuing carnage. Funnily enough, the crocodile is the most compassionate character here, based on the film’s ending. Duncan and his fellow knaves, on the other hand, are unkind without delay and apologies. The staggering lack of inhibitions is not exclusive to the guys either; Brady’s drunken one-night stand, Sunny, (Sommer Knight), wantonly spills the beans to Claire.
So after spending enough — too much — time with the film’s deathbound, it is reasonable to believe there was intention in designing Duncan and his crew to be insufferable. Despite producer Frank DeMartini insisting that audiences would “really care about these people,” sympathy is close to inconceivable. Having said that, there was a burgeoning tendency in horror back then, particularly any film with a growing body count, to allow vexing and hollow characters to proliferate on screen, provided that their fatalities were over the top, vicious and gratifying to watch. Crocodile was, in that way, ahead of its time.
Image: Claire returns Flat Dog’s egg.
The main draw of a film like Crocodile is its titular star. Unfortunately, Flat Dog is only a marginal success, as far as special effects go. KNB EFX Group, which was founded by Robert Kurtzman, Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger, is responsible for the practical crocodile. Partly using equipment left over from Eraser — its reptile house set-piece — KNB crafted four variations of the Lake Sobek monster, including an inspiring animatronic head for “eating” scenes. These impressive models were used for swimming or close-ups, but full-body shots were, regrettably, done with Flat Earth Productions’ CGI. If the choice was to either have a chintzy digital croc or no wide shots at all, then informed viewers surely would have accepted just KNB’s maw and tail.
The hurdles when watching this film are higher than desired, yet on occasion, it overcomes itself and entertains. The visit to the ‘gator farm and the interactions between cops and bumpkins ooze classic Hooper, and a whit of the night sequences, such as the quarrelsome trek through the woods and the store slaughter, are genuinely fun.
Without delivering any more blows to its already soft and bruised underbelly, Crocodile is a film whose virtues, few as they may be, go unnoticed. Yes, it was obvious that Tobe Hooper was not the same director he once was — also being mindful of the fact that his career highs are now horror benchmarks — however, he still managed to put his signature on an otherwise by-the-numbers production. That Hooper stamp is apparent where least expected but also much appreciated whenever wading through the rest of this silly film.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
Image: The poster for Crocodile.
On July 13th, 2026, the world lost one of its brightest stars.
Beloved New Zealand actor Sam Neill passed away from pneumonia after a long battle with stage 3 lymphoma. The multifaceted movie star will be remembered by mainstream audiences for his iconic role as Dr. Alan Grant in Steven Spielberg’s 1993 masterpiece Jurassic Park, as well as powerful turns in A Cry in the Dark (1988), The Piano (1993), and Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016), and prestige TV series The Tudors and Peaky Blinders. But horror fans know him as one of the genre’s most surprising Scream Kings.
Through a handful of memorable starring roles, Neill spent the 80s and 90s bringing life to a wide variety of characters and finding humanity in the most unusual leading roles, regardless of how heroic or villainous.
The Final Conflict (1981)
After a decade on the stage and screen in New Zealand and Australia, Neill made his international debut as Damien Thorn in Graham Baker’s The Final Conflict, the third installment of The Omen franchise. Now a 36-year-old businessman, Damien is fully aware of his devilish parentage and hell-bent on world domination. But rather than a hooved and horned monstrosity, Neill’s Antichrist is a suave businessman who leads his followers in an expensive suit and seeks to bring about the apocalypse through deceptive altruism rather than grand proclamation.
Despite his austere demeanor, the man’s true evil knows no bounds. When a prophecy foretells the second coming of Christ, known in the film as “the Nazarene,” Damien commands his followers to commit widespread infanticide, murdering all baby boys born on a specific date. He seduces a high-profile reporter while transforming her teenage son into a bloodthirsty disciple, then uses the child as a human shield. This tricky role allows Neill to demonstrate his trademark versatility, easily charming the outside world while dropping his suave mask of normalcy behind closed doors. Though certain aspects of The Final Conflict are admittedly dated, Neill’s performance feels eerily prescient. He’s mastered the heinous portrayal of a politician willing to sell his soul for power that will ultimately bring about the end of the world.
Possession (1981)
Though Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession is often remembered for Isabelle Adjani’s stunning depiction of a woman on the edge, Neill delivers an equally unhinged performance as Mark, a spy returning home from a lengthy assignment in divided Berlin. Upon discovering that his wife Anna (Adjani) wants a divorce, Mark desperately tries to hold his family together even at the expense of her sanity. Filmed the same year as The Final Conflict, Neill dives headfirst into this visceral role, managing to evoke sympathy for the distraught father who becomes ever more desperate to regain control. Inspired by his own divorce, Żuławski resists blaming either party for the separation, instead showing the chaos and heartache that comes in the wake of a family’s dissolution.
Once considered to replace Roger Moore as the next James Bond, Neill has fun with the international spy persona as Żuławski’s plot grows increasingly bizarre. But the skilled actor never lets us forget that Mark is a flawed human being struggling to keep his life from falling apart. A second character emerges in the film’s mesmerizing climax, allowing Neill to lean into full villainy with a glassy-eyed stare that chills to the bone. Now a cult classic, Adjani and Neill bounce off each other’s seething rage, creating one of the most effective cinematic duets in the history of horror.
Jurassic Park (1993)
When Steven Spielberg’s creature feature first hit theaters, Neill was by no means a household name and hardly a traditional leading man. Without the swashbuckling swagger of Harrison Ford, the mega-watt smile of Tom Cruise, or the chiselled jaw of Brad Pitt — all famous action stars of the era — Neill felt like an unconventional choice for this massive role. But he perfectly captures the essence of Grant, an aloof academic who prefers dig sites to fancy fundraisers and social events. Despite an aversion to children, the dinosaur expert finds himself tasked with saving the theme park’s youngest survivors who gradually break down his emotional walls. Grant’s transformation into a courageous caretaker is a landmark deconstruction of traditional gender norms wrapped in the guise of a rugged outdoorsman.
Neill proves to be the perfect action star, effortlessly navigating Spielberg’s stunning set pieces without losing the character’s relatable hook. But perhaps the film’s most touching moment is Neill’s childlike wonder at seeing a dinosaur for the first time. Stunned to speechlessness, he channels the audience’s wondrous joy when Grant first spies a real, live Brachiosaurus. But he seamlessly weaves this infectious awe into serious concerns about the creature’s existence, amplifying the story’s prophetic messaging. Jeff Goldblum may utter the film’s iconic warning, but the duality of Grant’s performance perfectly illustrates the scientific imperative, reminding us that just because we can doesn’t mean we should.
Neill would go on to lead Joe Johnston’s 2001 sequel Jurassic Park III, in which Grant is again tasked with saving a child. In 2022, he would appear in Colin Trevorrow’s legacy sequel Jurassic World Dominion, which merges the franchise’s two distinct eras while bringing the carnage onto mainland shores. Despite turning in strong performances, neither film is able to top the magic of Spielberg’s original or Neill’s captivating performance as the stoic leading man. But his nuanced depiction of Alan Grant inspired a generation of would-be paleontologists and quiet kids who could now see themselves as courageous academics capable of surprising strength.
In the Mouth of Madness (1994)
After catapulting to worldwide fame, Neill returned to horror proper to lead John Carpenter’s mind-bending In the Mouth of Madness. We first meet John Trent (Neill) as he’s dragged, kicking and screaming, into a padded cell. An unknown stretch of time later, he recounts an unbelievable story while covered in protective crosses scrawled into his skin — and the cell’s walls — with black crayon. A private investigator, Trent has been tasked with locating Sutter Cane (Jürgen Prochnow), a world-famous yet elusive genre author whose work has been driving his ravenous readers to disturbing acts of random violence.
A love letter to fans of horror fiction, we delight in watching Trent explore literary easter eggs that lead him down jarring rabbit holes. A late-night road trip takes Trent and Linda Styles (Julie Carmen), an editor for Cane’s publishing house, to a tiny New England hamlet teeming with darkness. While investigating an ominous cathedral on the outskirts of town, Trent realizes that he’s somehow been transported into the author’s interdimensional story and become its unwitting protagonist.
Neill serves as a skeptical everyman and the audience’s conduit through this bizarre tale of literary monsters that find a way to burst through the page. An often overlooked Carpenter film, In the Mouth of Madness spirals into insanity, but Neill keeps us grounded throughout each outlandish twist. A shocking conclusion leaves us gaping at our screens and contemplating our own relationship with horror fiction. After all, does free will truly exist? Or, like Trent, are we merely pawns in someone else’s monstrous creation?
Event Horizon (1997)
One of the scariest movies ever set in space, Paul W.S. Anderson’s Event Horizon builds upon the heroic image Neill established for himself in Jurassic Park. Dr. William Weir (Neill) is a physicist temporarily joining the crew of the Lewis and Clark to assist in their latest rescue mission. Seven years after vanishing without a trace, a spaceship called the Event Horizon has suddenly reappeared near Neptune’s orbit. As the creator of a top-secret gravity drive designed to facilitate faster-than-light travel, Dr. Weir has been sent to explore the ship and find out what happened to its missing crew.
Still haunted by his late wife’s suicide, Dr. Weir is a sympathetic figure, particularly in comparison to the harsh Captain Miller (Laurence Fishburne) who commands the crew of the Lewis and Clark. But Weir’s desperation to return to the infamous ship hides a sinister secret that leads his fellow astronauts to the threshold of hell. Neill’s talent for playing the everyman pays off in spades as the formerly sympathetic widower transforms into a disciple of this frightening dimension. Resembling a long-lost cenobite, Weir claws out his own eyes and prepares to drag the crew into a world consumed with sadistic pain.
Daybreakers (2009)
Neill returns to his Omen roots in Michael and Peter Spierig’s action-packed film as a secretly sinister businessman. But rather than the Antichrist, Charles Bromley (Neill) is a proud vampire convinced of the species’ superiority. With human blood in short supply, Bromley Marks Corp. is working on a synthetic substitute to prevent the human race from impending extinction. While hematologists perfect the formula, Bromley oversees disturbing fields of humans chained to massive machines that systematically harvest their blood.
Neill chills in this sinister role with vampiric yellow eyes, a pale complexion, and subtle fangs. But more upsetting is the fact that he honestly doesn’t believe he’s wrong. Once diagnosed with cancer, Bromley was delighted to find that vampirism would totally reverse his illness and grant him the gift of eternal life. He begged his daughter Alison (Isabel Lucas) to turn alongside him, but she has rejected her father’s controversial choice and is now hunted by his bloodthirsty goons. In a heartbreaking moment of clarity, Bromley brings his daughter to the brink of death, then turns away in disgust when she will not embrace his undead lifestyle.
Daybreakers is a surprisingly thrilling exploration of survival and sustainability. Similar to a plot Damien Thorn would hatch, Bromley’s ultimate plan is to placate the vampire population with synthetic blood while allowing the human population to replenish itself. With a larger stock, he plans to sell authentic humans at a premium, hunting these poor souls to season the meat. Bromley rejects a cure that would reverse the vampiric disease, choosing to enrich himself over saving the world. The strangely captivating villain’s end is a cathartic nightmare and fitting punishment for a wealthy man who places himself above everyone else.
In the Mouth of Madness
While the world may remember Neill for his signature role as a gruff but compassionate paleontologist going head to head with a raging T-Rex, horror fans may picture the versatile actor maniacally rocking back and forth in a filthy Berlin apartment, commanding a boardroom of corporate vampires, disappearing into the darkness of a haunted spaceship, sermonizing to satanists, or giggling over popcorn in a deserted movie theater. Or perhaps you have another favorite role in the beloved actor’s stellar career. But whether he was playing a hero or villain, Neill brought undeniable humanity to every role, redefining our idea of masculinity and the very nature of goodness vs. evil. By bringing such disparate characters to life, Neill challenged audiences with a variety of complex roles, asking us to examine the humanity of each character no matter how flawed or virtuous.
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