It’s been a tough week for writing reviews for me. Coupled with watching some atrocious movies that suck my will to go on, I’ve had to deal with a nasty little cold that makes me want to fall asleep every time I sit down. So as you might see watching a movie hasn’t been the easiest of tasks this week. It has been such a struggle that I didn’t finish the film that I was going to write on this week until late last night, leaving me with little time to write anything worthwhile to post up on the site. So if this week’s review is a little short or bland I am apologizing now for sucking.

I was hoping that this week’s choice would be impervious to my week long doldrums, due to the fact it is an Australian cult film, and there are few things I love more then Australian cult films. Granted this small obsession has only matriculated in the past five years or so, ignoring the first seeds planted by the Mad Max films a good twenty years earlier, but there is just something about them that always catches my attention.

But the choice for this week’s entry was brought about a week earlier after watching Doomsday. After spending 100 minutes enjoying the hell out of that movie I was suffering from a serious craving for genre films from the 80’s. And since Doomsday director Neil Marshall had caused the itch that now needed to be scratched, I thought that t would be a good idea to finally watch a film that he regarded as one of his earlier influences, Russell Mulcahy’s insane vision of the Australian outback, Razorback.

 

Now Russell Mulcahy is a name you might not recognize at first utterance, but I can assure you that you have seen his work. You might know him for his work in destroying the music industry and starting the inevitable downfall of Western civilization with his music video for The Buggles, a quaint little band with a fairly unknown hit, Video Killed the Radio Star. Or you might know him for unleashing Duran Duran onto the world, directing most of their major videos, thus ensuring that every time a Duran Duran song comes on the radio you can’t help but be convinced that they are the greatest band of all-time. Or maybe you know him for a movie made simply to showcase Queen’s new album, or Sean Connery’s ridiculous stunt casting as a Spaniard, in the little science fiction fantasy film that could, Highlander. It’s safe to say if you have experienced even a sliver of the 80’s, that Russell Mulcahy has touched your life.

But Mulcahy hasn’t don much since the 80’s, rarely shooting music videos and only making 10 films in nearly 20 years, the most well known being the disastrous sequel to HighlanderHighlander II: The Quickening. Mulcahy despised that film so much he tried to get his name removed from the credits, a battle which he lost. But I’m not here to focus on his recent exploits, or lack of them, as I simply want to focus on his 1984 horror film Razorback.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Razorback when I first sat down to watch it. Mulcahy’s music videos and his early films all tend to be a bit spastic and bordering on out of control. While these tended to be rather big budget productions with major corporate backers funding the projects, he still was considered such a rising star that he was given almost unlimited control on how he wanted to film. But Razorback was a slightly different animal. It was a small film, filmed in his native Australia, and not really intended to get a major release. So would Razorback be even more unhinged then his more well-known efforts, or was he already working at his creative zenith?

It doesn’t take Razorback very long to let you know you are in for an interesting and unique journey as the opening credits singularly creates an oddly twisted and unpleasant pairing of sight and sound that was an effective precursor to the opening scene in which a Hogzilla crashes through a house, snatches up a little boy, and drags him off into the darkness to gobble him up at its leisure. Why is the house on fire in rooms the boar never entered? Why is the old man (Bill Kerr) looking for the boy in the house? Why is the boar the size of a Volkswagen? I don’t know, and I don’t care, because I still can’t get the opening credits out of my mind!

From there Razorback shifts to a courtroom where the old man is tried for killing his grandson. Sure there are two giant holes in his house, but no one believes him that a pig caused them, let alone ate his grandson. But due to a lack of evidence he is acquitted, thus allowing him to focus a singular insane drive on killing pigs in Australia. Throughout these scenes Razorback flirted dangerously with becoming a campy horror film, which would have been nice, but a huge disappointment from those opening moments.

But while Razorback continues on with a hokey pro-environmentalist storyline involving a female reporter (Judy Morris) from New York something is rippling beneath the surface. As Beth (Morris) examines the small Australian town you are born witness to a stunningly bleak world that looks as if it came straight out of a Mad Max film. This Outback is populated with odd characters and beautifully dilapidated landscapes. Razorback’s story may have been dragging, but the film was looking stunning even while it took its time getting to its destination. But just when I thought I might have to lower my expectations something happened.

As Beth began snooping around at night Razorback started to do more then simply hint at what it had in store for the audience. Kangaroo carcasses began showing up, trickles of gore began to flow and as a stunning after-dark car chase came to a close Mulcahy subtly ramped it up to eleven during a pinnacle rape scene in which the film’s only human antagonist Dicko Baker (David Argue) secured Beth and glared back at his brother Benny (Chris Haywood) who was spotlighting the events and urging his brother on. And in that moment Dicko’s eyes reflect back at Benny, proving Dicko is nothing but a wolf in human clothing. It was a powerfully exquisite metaphor and let the audience know that this film was about to become much more then they bargained for.

From there Razorback took off stylistically, leaving me hopelessly behind as I raced to keep up. Hard zooms, quick edits, jump cuts, back lit, front lit, shaky cam, synthesizer score, mainstream pop music, cuts timed to and against music beats, gratuitous violence, giant man eating pigs, miniature man eating pigs, crazy old men shouting crazy one liners, amputations, hidden lairs, post-apocalyptic landscapes, some dude from Falcon Crest, armored trucks, smoke effects, free flowing entrails and a horde of drunk heavily armed Australians not shooting anything. Good grief, please don’t make it stop, it’s glorious!

As I sat there dazed, delirious, and damn near dehydrated I knew that I had just witnessed something truly unique. Rather then being content with a tiny budgeted genre film, Mulcahy turned Razorback into a mind blowing experience. MTV can have its continued worship at the altar of Video Killed the Radio Star. Nerds can have their unfettered love of all things Highlander. Me? I’m content in knowing that Mulcahy’s true masterpiece is the little pig picture that could.