Never smile at a crocodile

I am a huge fan of great Australian films. Now, those who know me well would accuse me of more willingly lining up for the latest American blockbuster than a limited release Aussie flick.

True, but simply because I dislike Australian films under the pretence that to make it big you have to make it abroad – especially as they inevitably flop. The kind of Australian films I genuinely love are made because they are tight scripts and well executed productions. They also bring something original to the table.

One such flick is Rogue. I absolutely adore Greg McLean’s work. They’re the kind of films I wish I’d thought of. In just two films, this one guy has done more for attracting (or maybe deterring!) tourists to the Top End than Darryl Somers did in a decade.

Wolf Creek remains to this day the most disturbing film I have ever sat through (granted with a much needed tea break in the middle!). McLean ’s latest offering is sensational viewing.Starring one of my fave Aussie gals, Radha Mitchell, and Alias veteran, Michael Vartan, Rogue tells the narrative of an unfortunate NT tourist troupe trapped on a sandy island in a tidal estuary smack dab in the territory of a highly aggressive saltwater croc.Vartan is the quiet Chicago travel writer, Pete; Mitchell, the rough around the edges tour operator, Kate. Throw in an arrogant American couple, a cancer riddled woman, her hubby and tween daughter, a pretentious photographer, an easygoing Irish chick, and a grieving man and the dynamics of the tour itself would’ve been interesting enough. Especially given the superior Aussie talent cast in the roles. Sam Worthington in particular is terrific as a Territory roughneck keen on our Kate - watch out for him when courage and sense are called upon in equal measure.

And the script is excellent with the narrative and dialogue moving fluidly. McLean’s screenplay has captured completely the broad spectrum of Australia’s personality; the laconic conversational style, ‘bush time’, local techniques. The cinematography illustrates the breathtaking beauty and, simultaneously, the isolation that is the Territory. As much is said with a single shot as an entire scene (eg the slow but escalating lapping of the water).The croc itself is unrelenting, the real terror of the film stemming from the complete lack of predictability of this invisible threat. It is shadows, a mere rumble in the black night. My favourite moment is when a member of the troupe simply disappears from the shoreline, a small ripple the only evidence of his demise, along with a fleeting glimpse of a knobbled tail slinking away.

The film is unlike any other croc flick out there – more reminiscent of the original Jaws than anything reptilian. The SFX creators haven’t cheapened the film with an overly digitised creature, nor do you ever really see the monster in all its glory, making it so much scarier. McLean ’s script remains firmly engrained in the premise that a rustle in the dark is infinitely more terrifying than that which is tangible.This is what I loved about the film. It never falls into the trap of obvious device. It relies on tension rather than gore to sell the scare.

And scared you will be – all 92min of it – indeed the first fright occurs within two minutes of the opening credits! Although many of the incidents may set themselves up predictably (climbing across the water on a rope strung up with a knot in the middle, anyone?) how they conclude will astound you. Plus, you really will be so far on the edge of your seat that you won’t have headspace to notice…

Check it out.... flickchick out.