Wolf Creek
**** Cert 18
Peter Bradshaw
Friday September 16, 2005
The Guardian
Wolf Creek is a swaggeringly nasty, self-assured piece of ordeal horror set in the Australian outback. With nods to Duel and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, first- time writer-director Greg McLean shows the neo-goreheads from the US and UK how it ought to be done. Liz (Cassandra Magrath) , Kristy (Kestie Morassi) and Ben (Nathan Phillips) are backpackers driving across country to Wolf Creek, the site of a prehistoric meteorite strike: an eerily vast crater in which uncanny things, far scarier than anything at Hanging Rock, are said to happen. In that colossal and implacable landscape, they find their car won't start. And they are vastly relieved when an amiable old Bushman called Mick (John Jarratt) shows up out of nowhere and offers to tow them to his remote shack, while he fixes their car and lets them sleep the night.
McLean's film shows its high IQ by letting nothing scary happen for around half an hour; there is something absorbingly real and even romantic in the way a shy attraction develops between Liz and Ben. The stomach-turning events that follow are leavened with moments of grisly comedy. There is a brilliant joke about Crocodile Dundee's catchphrase: "You call that a knife?" Spielberg himself might have admired the buttock-clenching suspense in which someone hears a faint bang outside his stationary vehicle and gets out to find a bullet hole in the thermos flask he had placed on the car roof just a moment before, the liquid glugging out of it. Then a distant clang and an approaching whine of a second bullet will have you ducking and yelping in alarm. This is the best Australian movie since Lantana, and deserves an audience outside the horror fanbase.