Wolf Creek (2005)

There’s something to be said about a movie that features, as it’s main villain, a true-blue, giggling psychopath. One might first think of someone like the Joker, but that’s not heavy enough. I’m talking about someone who is, to their very core, indifferent to (and perhaps even enjoys) the suffering of others. Someone who isn’t stoic about being a murderer, but instead is having an absolute blast being one.

Enter Mick Taylor (played masterfully by John Jarratt), Australia’s very first iconic slasher villain, and quite possibly the strongest case of a mirthful psychopath in cinema history.

Wolf Creek centers around three friends who are tourists to the Outback who break down while at the titular landmark. A friendly bushman with a gigantic truck happens upon them, and offers to tow them to a nearby mining encampment that he’s camping out in. The trio accepts, and hope to be back on their way by morning light.

I’m sure you can see where things go from there.

Mick Taylor is that very bushman, and spends the next day and change not only eviscerating them, but taunting them the entire way through. It should be mentioned that Mick even implies that he’s done far worse than just cut up some of the women he’s captured, though it is mercifully never actually depicted on screen. We simply hear him talk about his depraved, utterly sickening exploits in a cheery, friendly tone.

Oh yes, our boy Mick has been in this game a long time. The way this is depicted throughout the movie is a nice slow-burn, as the true depths of his depravity are only shown to you, rather than being told. Yes, he talks of some of his more horrible acts, but in reality, the full extent of Taylor’s killing spree only comes to light as the heroes start to roam the compound.

This is something that the movie does very well, and something that extends beyond the villain alone. A lot of the more subtle narrative events are displayed, not described: two of the characters start to hit it off romantically, the lead guy is pretty progressive when it comes to women and how they’re treated, and all of them are very clearly out of their element. The best of this storytelling may be with Taylor, but it’s clear that the writer, director, and co-producer Greg McLean took “show, don’t tell” to heart.

The movie also applies this slow-burn approach very well. If you’re going in blind, there’s a scene early on that has so much more meaning later on that it very nearly prompts a rewatch on its own: the crew stops at a gas station, and has a few small run-ins with the locals, with varying degrees of success. The guy of the group, Ben, takes some video of himself and the gas station’s attendant, who is very awkward, but generally cheery. Later, however, after the locals inside the station harass the other two, Liz and Kristy, he stands up for them, very nearly coming to blows with one of the bushmen at the station.

This sets up a very good red herring, first of all. After all, if you went to see this movie, odds are good that you at least know that it’s a horror movie about tourists getting attacked in the outback. This character, who is named Bazza, could easily be the attacker. Even if you know his name, maybe that’s not his real name. Mick Taylor and Bazza could possibly be the same character.

The slow-burn aspect is actually the fact that this very same scene does have Mick in it, just not how you’d expect.

I’ll warn for spoilers, though I’d say that this isn’t the most important plot beat. After all, the real story being told here is one of struggle, as three innocent people try to escape from an absolute terror of a man. Nevertheless, this is only revealed fairly late in the movie, along with many other, more interesting things, so I’ll still warn you!

So, Mick Taylor’s truck was there. He marked them as targets literal hours before he even approached them, meaning that Mick is not only a psychopath, but also very, very dedicated to his craft. Mick picked them the moment he saw them, then spent the next eight hours or more setting up their vehicle’s breakdown, his arrival to “help” them, and even went so far as to drug a carton of water to knock them out before he went about his bloody business.

The sheer determination on display, which only gets more imposing as events unfold, positions Mick in a strong position as a villain - he handpicked the victims, but is still completely divorced from anything close to empathy or interest in other living beings. Early in his conversations with the group, he talks about how he used to hunt for the government, cleaning up pests and thinning herds as needed. During this conversation, he goes into intimate detail on how you have to gut some of these critters, with nary a blink of his eye.

With that conversation in mind, it becomes apparent that Mick views all life like this, as if it didn’t matter in the slightest. This nihilism, this pure detachment from the human condition, isn’t very common in movies. Even movies like Scream or Nightmare on Elm Street, movies with strong, emotional antagonists, still displays a bit of humanity or reasoning in their methods. It’s a rare day when Freddy goddamn Krueger shows more introspection into other humans than a character, but here we are. After all, Freddy at the very least tries to understand his victims, tries to get to the heart of their deepest fears. In a way, Freddy is the opposite, purely empathetic in a twisted way.

No, Mick Taylor shares more with a character like Michael Myers. He doesn’t care about people, he doesn’t see them as anything more than meat to be carved (or worse). He is simply enjoying the thing he’s best at: killing, torturing, maiming, and worse. Michael simply feels compelled to kill. He doesn’t see others as people, but he also doesn’t get anything out of it. It’s like he’s operating on pure instinct.

Mick Taylor operates on fun.

There’s very few characters that can be so depraved, yet still so interesting to watch. Jarratt brings a performance like no other, and sells the charisma of someone like Crocodile Dundee (apparently an intentional parallel) while still being the absolute worst humanity has to offer.

This movie isn’t for the faint of heart, but it’s still a fantastic movie. It’s so strong that it earned itself not only a sequel, but a two-season TV series as well. There’s even talks of a third movie, and Jarratt has been attached to every single depiction of the character.

All I know is, maybe I don’t want to see the Outback that badly, after all.