{"id":1469,"date":"2014-08-08T12:03:45","date_gmt":"2014-08-08T02:03:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/?p=1469"},"modified":"2014-08-08T12:11:51","modified_gmt":"2014-08-08T02:11:51","slug":"the-rise-of-rural-horror-in-aus-us-film-american-review-looks-at-wolf-creek-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/?p=1469","title":{"rendered":"The Rise of Rural Horror in Aus &#038; US Film &#8211; &#8216;American Review&#8217; looks at &#8216;Wolf Creek 2&#8217;"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The prestigious <em>American Review<\/em> recently published an article by the esteemed Dean Bertram that includes a quote from me. A very insightful piece that speaks to some of the issues I&#8217;ll be talking about at the Melbourne Writers Festival soon (more on that later!):<\/p>\n<p>________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/american-review-cover-080-08-14.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1470\" title=\"american review cover 080-08-14\" src=\"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/american-review-cover-080-08-14.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"432\" height=\"575\" srcset=\"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/american-review-cover-080-08-14.jpg 403w, http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/american-review-cover-080-08-14-225x300.jpg 225w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 432px) 100vw, 432px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/americanreviewmag.com\/stories\/The-Wolf-Creek-Chain-Saw-Massacre\" target=\"_blank\">http:\/\/americanreviewmag.com\/stories\/The-Wolf-Creek-Chain-Saw-Massacre<\/a><\/p>\n<h2>THE WOLF CREEK CHAINSAW MASSACRE<\/h2>\n<p><em>American and Australian horror films have reimagined rural landscapes as places of malevolence and dread<\/em><\/p>\n<p>By <strong>Dean Bertram<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>American Review<\/em>, Issue #16, August 2014<strong> <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>A cultural sea change swept over American and Australian cinema in  the early 1970s. The wild but defining rural spaces of both countries  had long been the touchstones of their respective national identities.  In his formative 1893 paper \u201cThe Significance of the Frontier in  American History,\u201d US historian Frederick Jackson Turner posited:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\u201cTo the frontier the American intellect owes its striking  characteristics. That coarseness and strength combined with acuteness  and inquisitiveness, that practical, inventive turn of mind, quick to  find expedients, that masterful grasp of material things, lacking in the  artistic but powerful to effect great ends, that restless, nervous  energy, that dominant individualism, working for good and for evil, and  withal that buoyancy and exuberance which comes with freedom \u2014 these are  traits of the frontier, or traits called out elsewhere because of the  existence of the frontier.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Across the Pacific, a national identity that placed a similar  emphasis on the \u201cbush\u201d experience was being cemented by writers like  Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson in the pages of <em>The Bulletin<\/em> \u2014 \u201cThe Bushman\u2019s Bible.\u201d Indeed, some 60 years later, in <em>The Australian Legend<\/em>,  Russel Ward recognised the late 19th century as when \u201cAustralians  generally became actively conscious, not to say self-conscious, of the  distinctive \u2018bush\u2019 ethos, and of its value as an expression and symbol  of nationalism.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The formulation of these rural-centric nationalisms coincided with  the birth of cinema, and their impact on both countries\u2019 filmmaking was  unmistakable. Just as the Western was a dominant genre in American  cinema \u2014 arguably <em>the<\/em> American genre \u2014 from the medium\u2019s birth,  so too are the first several decades of Australian film history replete  with a rich assortment of tales of the bush, from the country\u2019s first  two feature films <em>The Story of the Kelly Gang<\/em> (1906) and <em>Eureka Stockade<\/em> (1907); through the twice remade and sequel-spawning rural comedy <em>On Our Selection<\/em> (1920, 1932, 1995); to a string of cattle and sheep station dramas including <em>The Squatter\u2019s Daughter<\/em> (1910, remade 1933), <em>The Overlanders<\/em> (1946), and <em>The Phantom Stockman<\/em> (1953). Both national cinemas expressed similar themes: rural life was  tough and often hazardous, but it built the kind of strong character  that helped the good guys prevail. In so doing, these films continued to  bolster the original narratives from which they drew inspiration.<\/p>\n<p>However, as the twentieth century progressed, rural tropes became  increasingly distant from the day-to-day realities of most citizens in  either nation. The frontier ethos and bush ethos were formalised when  the majority of Americans and Australians still lived on rural  properties or in small country towns. But by 1970, only 26 per cent of  the US population, and just shy of 15 per cent of the Australian, could  be categorised as rural. Filmmakers in both countries began to look at  such places through a less idealised, and often hostile, lens. Their  camera\u2019s gaze moved from traditional rural heroes and heroines, capable  of dealing with the harsh environment in which they existed, to urban  protagonists existentially menaced not just by a hostile geography but  by the rural antagonists who dwelt therein. The once familiar landscapes  which had defined national character were transformed into alien  outlands of malevolence and dread.<\/p>\n<p>American horror films of the period in particular re-imagined rural  geographies and inhabitants as inimical to urban outsiders. The rural  antagonists of <em>Night of the Living Dead<\/em> (1968), <em>Deliverance<\/em> (1972), <em>The Texas Chain Saw Massacre<\/em> (1974), and <em>The Hills Have Eyes<\/em> (1977) are variously portrayed as murderers, cannibals, and rapists.  It\u2019s also worth noting the concurrent slew of revisionist Westerns that  inverted the formulaic moralities and histories of the genre and the  frontier, including <em>The Wild Bunch<\/em> (1969), <em>Little Big Man<\/em> (1970), <em>McCabe and Mrs Miller<\/em> (1971), <em>High Plains Drifter<\/em> (1973), and <em>Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull\u2019s History Lesson<\/em> (1976). Both contemporary and historical genre films were chipping away  at popular conceptions of the American frontier and rural decency. The  \u201cNew Wave\u201d of Australian cinema followed a similar trajectory. <em>Wake in Fright<\/em> (1971), <em>Night of Fear<\/em> (1972), <em>The Cars that Ate Paris<\/em> (1974), <em>Picnic at Hanging Rock<\/em> (1975), <em>Long Weekend<\/em> (1978), <em>The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith<\/em> (1978), and <em>Mad Max<\/em> (1979), all eschewed the traditional bush ethos, and instead  transformed its sacred geography into one ripe with death and  degeneracy.<\/p>\n<p>Rural settings have remained a staple of both nations\u2019 horror cinema until the present day. American titles like <em>Friday the 13th<\/em> (1980), <em>Evil Dead<\/em> (1981), <em>The Blair Witch Project<\/em> (1999), and <em>House of 1000 Corpses<\/em> (2003) along with their sequels, remakes, knock-offs, and hundreds of  other \u201ccabin in the woods\u201d\u2013type movies, have been a staple of the  American screen for almost half a century. Australia\u2019s less prolific  cinematic output has nonetheless continued to release dozens of horror  films set in the outback, including <em>Road Games<\/em> (1981), <em>Razorback<\/em> (1984), <em>Rogue<\/em> (2007), <em>The Horseman<\/em> (2008), and <em>Dying Breed<\/em> (2008).<\/p>\n<p>The Australian exemplar is of course <em>Wolf Creek<\/em> (2005), and the recently released sequel <em>Wolf Creek 2<\/em> (2013). Like <em>The Texas Chain Saw Massacre<\/em>, to which its similar <em>cin\u00e9ma v\u00e9rit\u00e9<\/em> style and shocking depictions of violence often attracts comparison, <em>Wolf Creek<\/em> was marketed as being based on true events. <em>The Texas Chain Saw Massacre<\/em> \u2014 along with <em>Psycho<\/em> (1960) and <em>Silence of the Lambs<\/em> (1991) \u2014 was inspired by Ed Gein, the rural Wisconsin serial killer.  Gein\u2019s predilection for grave robbing, cannibalism, wearing the skin of  his female victims, and fashioning human body parts into furniture was  blood-splattered grist for the horror filmmaking mill. He was a real  life embodiment of the rural terrors that would inundate American cinema  screens for decades to follow. <em>Wolf Creek<\/em> drew similar  inspiration from serial killer Ivan Malat, and the Peter Falconio  murder. These highly publicised criminal cases acted as cautionary tales  on the dangers of travelling in the Australian outback and buttressed  the types of fears expressed in post-1960s Australian cinema.<\/p>\n<p><em>Wolf Creek<\/em>\u2019s serial killer, Mick Taylor, is played with  unsettling menace by Australian screen mainstay John Jarratt. Taylor is  the dark reflection of heroic bushmen characters immortalised on  Australian celluloid by homegrown stars from Chips Rafferty through Paul  Hogan to Hugh Jackman. Both <em>Wolf Creek<\/em> films are overtly  conscious of their subversion of this archetype. They deliver  self-referential nods to the audience even as they deliver their savage  and satirical blows.<\/p>\n<p>In the first film, Mick Taylor appropriates Mick \u201cCrocodile\u201d Dundee\u2019s  most famous catchphrase \u201cthat\u2019s not a knife,\u201d just before slicing off a  screaming backpacker\u2019s fingers and severing her spinal cord. In the  sequel, Taylor introduces himself to another unlucky tourist as \u201cMick  Taylor&#8230; pig hunter and general outback legend.\u201d Because the audience  has seen what Taylor is capable of, a sense of dread is evoked even by  the film\u2019s references to traditionally benign or humorous Australian  motifs. One of <em>Wolf Creek 2<\/em>\u2019s cleverest moments emerges when  Taylor\u2019s British captive tries to placate the outback killer with a  rendition of the well-worn \u201cTie Me Kangaroo Down Sport.\u201d Even Australian  audiences momentarily forget the song\u2019s once comical last verse. Mick  soon reminds us though, cutting his captive off mid chorus, and blurting  out the song\u2019s final lines. Coming from his mouth, they resonate a  sinister meaning:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\u201cTan me hide when I\u2019m dead Fred,<br \/>\nTan me hide when I\u2019m dead.<br \/>\nSo we tanned his hide when he died Clyde,<br \/>\nAnd that\u2019s it hangin\u2019 on the shed.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Taylor\u2019s nativism and xenophobia \u2014 the ugly side of the bush spirit \u2014  is demonstrated through his aggressive targeting of international  backpackers: \u201cforeign bastards\u201d and \u201cnoxious bloody weeds\u201d as he  describes them. Moreover, Taylor is presented as being self aware of the  very type of rural vs. urban and wilderness vs. civilisation themes  that have become mainstays of both the American and Australian horror  genre. Filled with malicious superiority he tells his most recent urban  captive: \u201cIn this world there\u2019s people like me and people like you. And  people like me eat people like you for breakfast.\u201d Indeed, the film\u2019s  British outsider \u2014 a history major, played by Australian actor Ryan Corr  \u2014 like other civilised British protagonists in earlier Australian  horror classics (Gary Bond in <em>Wake in Fright<\/em> and Dominic Guard in <em>Picnic at Hanging Rock<\/em>)  is overwhelmed by the brutality of the outback. The bush\u2019s inhabitants,  mysteries, and horrors present challenges beyond the physical and  psychic traits developed in an urban and civilised life.<\/p>\n<p>I recently asked Aaron Sterns, writer of <em>Wolf Creek 2<\/em> for  his opinion on the central thesis of this piece, and if he and  director\/co-writer Greg McLean were conscious of the historical change  in cinematic depictions of the Australian bush while writing their film.  \u201cYou\u2019re probably right that there was a shift in the depiction of the  outback\/bush in film in the 70s,\u201d Sterns said. \u201cI\u2019m thinking <em>Wake in Fright<\/em>, <em>Picnic at Hanging Rock<\/em>, etc., which were very influential on us.\u201d However, he also suggests:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\u201cThe fear or distrust of the bush has always been endemic in  Australian culture. I\u2019m particularly thinking of early Australian gothic  stories such as Barbara Baynton\u2019s <em>The Chosen Vessel<\/em> and Henry Lawson\u2019s <em>The Drover\u2019s Wife<\/em>,  and the artists of the Heidelberg School ([Frederick] McCubbin in  particular, who would often depict small figures in the malevolent or  inhospitable landscape, lost children, etc.). Early explorers often died  crossing our land, the first settlers experienced grief and heartbreak,  and although there might have been a transition period when people no  longer survived off the land as much, we have always gravitated toward  the \u2018safety\u2019 of the cities in Australia. <em>Wolf Creek<\/em> certainly  taps into that &#8230; For me, being out of place in the outback is central  to the Australian experience, and being a city boy is something I\u2019ve  always felt (having lived in the country too, and never feeling entirely  comfortable). Mick\u2019s a personification of the potential threat of the  landscape, but then so is the tramp in <em>The Chosen Vessel<\/em>, and the snake in <em>The Drover\u2019s Wife<\/em>. Maybe we\u2019re just tapping into those early stories.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>In her 2013 book, <em>The Rural Gothic in American Popular Culture: Backwoods Horror and Terror in the Wilderness<\/em>,  Bernice M. Murphy argues a similar position in regards to American  cinema: that rural horror films belong to an older cultural strain.  According to Murphy, this tradition reaches back through American Gothic  writers like Charles Brockden Brown and Nathaniel Hawthorne to the  savage realities faced by European settlers on the frontier.<\/p>\n<p>While darker byways of both countries\u2019 formative narratives may well  have long existed, post-1960s cinema drove such fear-laden tales to the  cultural forefront. A generation of new, predominantly urban movie-goers  would vicariously experience the backwoods and the outback, the  frontier and the bush, as landscapes of nightmare and death rather than  struggle and triumph.<\/p>\n<p>This revisionist interpretation is no more accurate than the  traditional. But as always, cinematic depictions say more about the  preconceptions of filmmakers, and the cultures in which they create,  than the realties of rural life, past or present. I\u2019m reminded of  another quote from Frederick Jackson Turner\u2019s influential paper: \u201cAt the  frontier the environment is at first too strong for the man. He must  accept the conditions which it furnishes or perish&#8230;\u201d Like the hapless  victims in rural horror movies, we are soft from civilisation\u2019s modern  amenities. Those travails of frontier or bush, met by our forebears,  would likely spell our demise. And while we might not like to admit it,  these films whisper in unintended allegories that it is not our national  ethos that has failed, but rather our ability to maintain its rigorous  demands.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>For more posts: <a href=\"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/?page_id=69\">THE LATEST<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The prestigious American Review recently published an article by the esteemed Dean Bertram that includes a quote from me. A very insightful piece that speaks to some of the issues I&#8217;ll be talking about at the Melbourne Writers Festival soon (more on that later!): ________________________________________________________________ &nbsp; http:\/\/americanreviewmag.com\/stories\/The-Wolf-Creek-Chain-Saw-Massacre THE WOLF CREEK CHAINSAW MASSACRE American and Australian [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1469","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blatant-self-promotion","category-interview"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1469"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1478,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469\/revisions\/1478"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1469"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1469"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/aaronsterns.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1469"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}