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In a sense, 1984's Razorback is Jaws in an Australian outback setting, with a monstrous boar massacring locals instead of a killer shark. Although an evident attempt to cash in on the Jaws craze, Razorback fortuitously establishes its own identity; it's a moody, visually striking horror-thriller, thanks in large part to the idiosyncratic style of former MTV music video director (and future direct-to-video/bargain bin purveyor) Russell Mulcahy, making his feature film debut here. Nevertheless, despite its nostalgic '80s vibe and several effective scenes of terror, Razorback is let down by the era's special effects restrictions, and a somewhat clunky narrative which inadvisably concentrates more on monotonous villainous machinations as opposed to fun exploitation elements. As far as creature features go, this "Ozploitation" picture falls roughly in the middle in terms of quality; it's no Jaws, but it is not as dire as Jaws 3 or Jaws the Revenge.
New York journalist and vehement animal rights activist Beth Winters (Judy Morris) travels to the small Australian outback town of Gamulla to investigate the sinister kangaroo slaughtering industry. Beth is not exactly popular in Gamulla, however - the colourful locals make her feel unwelcome, and nobody is unwilling to speak to her. When Beth mysteriously disappears and news of her disappearance reaches New York, Beth's partner Carl (Gregory Harrison) travels to Australia in search of answers. After an encounter with the unsavoury Benny (Chris Haywood) and Dicko (David Argue), Carl meets the kindly Sarah (Arkie Whiteley) and her friend, embittered hunter Jake Cullen (Bill Kerr). Jake knows all too well that a marauding razorback with a taste for human flesh threatens the community, but Sarah is the only one who believes him.
Solely focusing on a killer pig terrorising an outback community would have provided adequate material to sustain a 90-minute exploitation movie. Unfortunately, with a screenplay credited to Everett De Roche, Razorback is weighed down by an unnecessary subplot concerning thuggish kangaroo hunters which detracts a degree of focus, momentum and fun. The angle provides the impetus for Beth's interest in Gamulla, but the razorback fundamentally becomes a fringe threat as the film struggles to find its primary narrative focus. A revenge angle between Jake and the razorback is initially introduced but fades into the background, while themes about violence in the outback and animal conservation are never properly explored. Razorback is a bit of a mess, in other words. Additionally, a portion of the film tracks Carl aimlessly wandering through the desert searching for Beth, even hallucinating during his travels. Mulcahy embraces this tangent, evoking his music video experience as he experiments with striking, colourful imagery, giving Razorback its distinct cinematic identity. It may be a mess, but it's a beautiful mess.
Unlike more basic or pedestrian '80s horrors, Razorback is exceptionally stylised, befitting of a collaboration between Mulcahy and Oscar-winning cinematographer Dean Semler (Max Mad 2, Dances With Wolves). The resulting cinematographic routine is manic, beset with point-of-view shots, surreal imagery and close-ups of the razorback’s tusks and mouth, while dominant lighting and filters create shots bursting with extreme colour and shadows. Barely a scene goes by that’s not rich with atmosphere, which is a testament to the filmmakers' ability to both make the most of their budget and jazz up an unexciting premise with visual panache. Complementing the visuals is a synth-heavy score courtesy of Iva Davies, further establishing the film's unique flavour. A sizeable portion of the reported $5.5 million budget was expended to bring the titular boar to life, but by all accounts the resulting animatronics are not completely believable. Therefore, Mulcahy adopts the Jaws model by only showing the monster in quick bursts, and never letting viewers get a clear glimpse of it until the third act, with a climactic showdown inside an insalubrious dog food factory. The attack sequences are fast, vicious and gory, with smart editing by William M. Anderson (Gallipoli) masking the razorback's lack of realism. The results are serviceable enough. In its (rare) uncut form, Razorback is even better, with more exploitative (Ozploitative?) gory violence.
It is apparent that the visual styling took precedence over plotting and acting, with Mulcahy not exactly an actor's director, but at least the performers are not necessarily awful. Kerr impresses the most, confidently slipping into his role of a gruff razorback hunter and doing his best to give the movie some gravitas. As the stereotypical (American) hero, Harrison is believable and watchable though by no means outstanding, while Whiteley evinces an appealing charm and innocence, and Morris makes the most of her somewhat thankless role. Haywood and Argue portray the story's proverbial human villains, and they appear to have come straight from the set of a Mad Max film due to their manic behaviour and garish costuming.
Although mostly enjoyable, Razorback is unquestionably a product of its time, restricted by a meagre budget as well as the special effects limitations of the early 1980s. Unfortunately, despite the movie's distributors having confidence in the final product, Razorback struggled at the box office in both America and Australia during its 1984 theatrical release. However, it found its audience on home video, ultimately transforming into a minor cult classic. Heck, Jaws director Steven Spielberg is an admirer of this outback monster movie, while Quentin Tarantino can also be counted among the film's self-confessed fans.
6.7/10
