“There’s something about blasting the shit out of a razorback that brightens up my whole day.”
A mid-80s movie about a giant, killer pig terrorizing the Australian outback would seem to be the stuff of utter schlock, right? Razorback is a classier film than a capsule synopsis would suggest, however, and is a fine, sturdy entry into the sub-genre of eco-conscious killer animal thrillers (think of the superb – and superbly campy – Alligator from 1980). Razorback takes its time to establish sympathetic characters with real, believable motivations (the two human antagonists being an overly cartoonish exception to this) and isn’t afraid to upend expectations and conventions. The plot concerns an old hunter who has a personal vendetta against the titular hog, a crusading journalist investigating animal cruelty in a backwater kangaroo processing plant, and a couple of yahoos (not serious) up to no good. It’s a sharply edited film, full of jarring jump cuts and transitions. Mulcahy makes the most of his outback setting – his lens captures landscapes of devastating beauty, foreboding isolation, and sinister eeriness, especially during the nighttime scenes, which look like they could have been shot on an uninviting alien world. A scene where our hero is stranded alone in the desert after spoiling a ‘roo hunt, with only the creepy kookaburra calls to break the dead silence, is more frightening than any of the razorback attacks. Mulcahy is judicious with his “money shots,” as well, never revealing too much of his creature. Whether this was an artistic decision, or special effects budget limitations, it was the right call.
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