Good horror films are a (Dying Breed)

Familiarity can be a double-edged sword. When a film throws up scenes which feel so familiar they could have been borrowed from half-a-dozen other movies, we usually call that a cliche. But when a horror film does it, we call it following the codes of the genre. When these well-trodden paths appear along our film watching journey, some of us rejoice at the familiarity of the landscape, the inevitability of the destination, while others wish they'd chosen a more adventurous guide.

Are a fan of good cinema or are a fan of genre cinema? The answer to this question will inform your reaction to new Australian horror film Dying Breed. What about "good genre cinema?" I hear you ask, your voice trembling with outrage at the unfairness of that simplistic assessment. Well, I firmly believe that good genre cinema is made by filmmakers which follow the codes of the genre only to better reinvent them. Or by those who are happy to leave them behind when an unlikely narrative dirt track presents itself unannounced as they barrel down that well-traveled road.

Does Dying Breed reinvent the codes of horror cinema? Hardly. Does it branch off into unexplored territory once the framework of form and narrative are firmly established? Nope. Its claim to originality - made loud and clear by director Jody Dwyer at last night's premiere, organized by the Night of Horror International Film Festival - is that it's one of a only a few Australian genre pictures, and part of what is hopefully a renaissance. That, and it's shot in Tasmania.

The director's smug word of intro included a stab at other Australian films. "This film isn't like other Australian films. It's entertaining." Unwise? Perhaps, but the audience ate it up. No matter that he didn't return after the screening to defend his work in a Q&A... Until film critics show that they understand the horror genre, horror filmmakers are probably wise to ignore criticism altogether.

Irish zoology student Nina (Mirrah Foulkes) is intent on proving that the Tasmanian Tiger, long considered extinct, still survives deep in the wild forests of Tasmania. Her real motivation for making the trip though, may have to do with the death of her older sister in the same region, eight years beforehand.

She sets out on an ill-advised journey with her pushover partner Matt (Leigh Whannell), his obnoxious mate Jack (Nathan Phillips) and Jack's girlfriend Rebecca (Melanie Vallejo). They venture deep into the Tasmanian forest until the end of the road brings them to the last known whereabouts of Nina's sister.

What they encounter there is a bunch of inbred villagers who may be descendants of cannibal convict Alexander - the Pieman - Pearce. No points for guessing what happens next. There are a couple of nifty, if unlikely twists, but mostly the film delivers what audiences have paid to see: naive city-dwellers getting offed in increasingly gruesome manner by the dirty, flesh-eating locals.

The film is off on a good start. Following a gorgeous and tremendously unsettling credit sequence, made up of a family tree tracing - quite literally - the blood lines of Pearce's offspring, we are taken deep into the lush vegetation of Tasmania's Western frontier.

Geoffrey Hall's crisp HD photography is breathtaking, filtering the Australian wilderness through a damp, textured lens. Forests are a dense and menacing turquoise, headlights are hesitant, fragile beams of orange light, lakes are both blood-red and icy-blue.

The first set piece, a sullen ferry crossing, does a great job of setting the mood and presenting the characters. The film takes its time introducing us to its unlucky foursome, knowing too well that their fate will matter more if we spend a little bit of downtime in their company. It's a shame, then, that they are all so unlikeable and shallowly-written. I felt like I knew them, but didn't care enough for them to fear for their safety.

The story takes its time kicking into gear, which is definitely the right way to go when you're working with a thin plot. Not that it felt drawn out. In fact, one of the film's pleasures is attempting to guess the exact nature of the threat, palpable but mostly invisible in the film's first half. During this grace period, the film owes a clear debt to John Boorman's oft-quoted Deliverance.

It's a shame the quickfire editing refuses to let the early scenes breathe, especially when they are made up of such stunning, eerie vistas. Most shots don't last more than 4 seconds, betraying a disappointing insecurity about the film's capacity to withhold our attention.

What's also missing is strangeness. The ugly, inbred locals behave exactly as you'd expect them to. There are no lyrical moments of pure folly such as the banjo playoff in Deliverance or the dance hall scene in The Ordeal.

The endless string of bad decisions may be typical of the horror protagonist, but when characters behave with such reckless disregard for common sense, It's easy to root for the bad guys. I found myself doing that a lot sooner than is really necessary. When you find yourself sympathizing with violent inbred rapists, you're either in front of a very subversive piece of filmmaking, or a somewhat clumsy one.

Psychological horror, built mostly on our imagination's potential to imagine the worst, is perhaps the most disturbing and affecting kind of cinema horror. Soon enough though, Dying Breed veers into the unpleasant, sadistic universe of torture porn. Hardcore horror fans rejoice, the rest of us sigh at the opportunities wasted.

At the end of the day, I imagine Jody Dwyer did not set out to make a great Australian film, simply a good Australian horror movie, and if that's the case, he has partly succeeded. Dying Breed is atmospheric, visually striking and entertaining. I've often found that with genre cinema, quantity breeds quality. Let's hope future genre auteurs stand upon the shoulders of those that came before them and begin to reach for something a little deeper, a little scarier, and more than a little stranger.

Dying Breed opens in Australia on November 6th.

Good horror films are a (Dying Breed)