Day of the Panther (1988)
Grade: C-
Ozploitation -- that's a new one to me, which makes sense given the term's relatively recent coinage (for a 2008 documentary; wisely shortened from the previously tossed around Aussieploitation). Now, in my mind, this should really mean one of two things: either, the shameful peddling of over-the-top and not-actually-all-that-Australian stereotypes -- à la Outback Steakhouse and Crocodile Dundee --
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I reckon I'd like a platter of shrimp on the barbie, a six pack
of Foster's, two jars of Vegemite, and a kilo of fresh baby
for my dingo. Ta!
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-- or, the shameful peddling of kangaroos, wallabies, potoroos, and their marsupial brethren for, shall we say, unsavory purposes. (Probably an especially bad idea when it comes to koalas, though.)
Alas, Ozploitation films are simply schlocky genre flicks -- horror, biker, karate, sexploitation -- made in the 70s and 80s in response to Australia's newly minted R-rating.
OK, that's not bad at all -- with Mad Max and its Gayboy Berserkers and Smegma Crazies counted among the genre's notables, how could a fellow Ozploit like Day of the Panther be anything less than a joyful, campy romp?
Well, despite the impressive variety of fight sequences crammed into its 84 minute run time, along with a fair sprinkling of laughable fashion and period haircuts, Day of the Panther was no Twister's Revenge.
That is to say, despite its undeniable 80s-ness and low-budget appeal, it just didn't have the joy we've found in the box*'s other modern offerings, be they low-budget, off-the-rails regional fare, or made-for-TV no-holds-barred cheesefests.
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*Just to be clear, mate, by "box" we mean the Drive-In Movie
Classics, and not our normal 250 Horror Collection stalwart. |
It's not without its moments, and it certainly doesn't take itself completely seriously -- how could it with those bumbling, why-the-hell-are-they-even-in-this-movie detectives?
It just tries a bit too hard to be a real kung-fu movie.
Day of the Panther really wants to wow us with its fight scenes; it only succeeds in making each of them go on for so long that we completely lose interest.
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| Where is that shadow coming from? |
Since the plot is already bare-bones, and the protagonist not terribly compelling (a perpetually-bemused mash-up of Roger Federer and Mario Lopez), the boring action simply drags the entire thing down.
Plus, what's the point of being an Ozploitation film if it doesn't really even look like you're in Australia? Sadly, this one was shot in and around Perth (nothing against you Perth, I'm sure you're a lovely city). No fights on the steps of the Sydney Opera House with the Harbour Bridge in the background, or dune buggy chases around Uluru, pursued by dingoes -- just vaguely tropical scenes that could easily be mistaken for somewhere in south Florida (unless you happen to notice the eucalyptus).
No kangaroos? That's not alright, mate.
That's not to say that all Australian films should trade on stereotyped Oz-ness (crikey, that would get old). But, if you're going for schlock -- and want to peddle your schlock to the international market -- better to use all the tools at your disposal. Eh, at least there was a snake.
(Just stay out of the drainpipe, Petey!)
The Creeper [aka Rituals] (1977)
Grade: C+
This one had all the trappings of something we were bound to love. A bunch of our favorite films from the 70s (or at least ones we remember fondly) are set in the great outdoors -- Idaho Transfer, They, Beartoo(t)h, Snowbeast -- so a group of middle-aged doctors heading out into the remote wilderness is a very promising start.
And, not just regular wilderness: majestic, Saint-Ongeian, Canadian wilderness.
That they're going to a place called the "Cauldron of the Moon" is gravy on the poutine: now we have two movies set in places "of the Moon" (though sadly, irl it's just Batchawana Bay, Ontario).
Finally, Stephen King gave The Creeper a plug in Danse Macabre, which is usually a fairly reliable source of good horror from the era.
However, The Creeper just never really seemed to click with us. It may have been the terrible print from Mill Creek, which left a lot of scenes either washed out or completely dark -- a bit of a problem when the setting is supposed to be one of the main sources of menace.
The beginning third was intriguing and suitably scenic, with a fair bit of character building and some witty lines (along with a wonderfully unexpected, 30-years ahead-of-its-time, not-at-all-story-impacting reference to a character being gay, as though it were completely ordinary and not at all taboo -- bravo, writers). The middle third started to drag terribly though (still not helped by the bad print), which made the somewhat muddled and confusing ending seem like even more of a let-down.
Why the disappointment? Well, as alluded to earlier, a lot of these great outdoors horror films use the environment as a central -- if not the central -- source of terror. The Creeper started out this way, and it worked rather well; eventually though, it was as if the writers decided that this wasn't enough, and they cooked up an antagonist with a truly far-fetched backstory, and pinned the whole thing on him.
Thus, it becomes another movie about a completely insane, yet somehow devilishly clever and completely omniscient serial killer (much like the worst episodes of Criminal Minds). I think we both had higher ambitions for how this one would end up, and The Creeper simply fell short.
Don't get me wrong, The Creeper is still worth watching -- especially if you can track down a nicer copy than what Mill Creek offers -- if only to catch a nice performance by Hal Holbrook, and to look at some nice forests in Canada.
Just don't forget your extra set of boots.
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