Wolf Creek

If you ever consider going to Australia and doing the road trip/back packer thing - don't. If you don't get killed by some redneck hick in the middle of nowhere surely one of the ridiculously poisonous creatures will kill you. How do I know that? Through many, many Australian horror films, of course.

It all starts out nicely enough. You hang out on some beach or other, getting drunk and sleeping on the beach and it's all fun and games until your car just won't start again when it's all dark out and you're in an area called Wolf Creek. I mean, it could have stalled in Emu Creek, but that just doesn't sound creepy enough. Then you obviously run into some scary looking guy that pretends to be all helpful but turns out to be this serial killer that can merrily hack tourists into pieces because he lives at a place so remote that - even if you kinda sorta know the general area it is located in - cannot be pinpointed by authorities because the place is just so fucking big and empty. And, anyway, people disappear in Australia all the time (so, why again would you want to go there?).

Sure, you might be able to escape. But where do you go? What if you're on foot? Remember: you are miles and miles of deserted country roads from any civilization, because you did this wannabe hippie road trip thing. So even if you think you have escaped and by chance should meet another human being willing to help you, the bad guy is still out there hunting you and the good samaritan will be collateral damage.

Because bad guys in horror film simply do not die. Like, ever. Nevermind that you shot him and stabbed him. He will come after you. And he will find you.

True story.

4/10