Vingança Animal

This Australian crime thriller is a revenge movie, a rather crude and agonizing one to watch, in my opinion. Unlike other revenge movies, after getting half of his hit list done, the protagonist kinda lost to the bad guys. And then it was his turn to get mauled. I don't know about you, but in revenge movies, the table isn't supposed to turn like that. That's the agonizing part I'm talking about. And that's what makes me take one point from my initial rating. The brutality I can take, the cruel tortures, even the blood lust. But the loss? That's hard to watch. And a satisfying ending in revenge movies to me means that the protagonist gets to torture the final boss to death. So that means this one doesn't have a satisfying ending. Cause he wasn't in no shape to get any satisfaction, it was just a quick death. I wasn't satisfied with the ending. Not at all. Unlike "I Spit On Your Grave", which still the number one revenge movies of all time. At least for me, it is.

First off, this film isn't going to appeal to everyone. It features graphic violence (most of it unseen) and a quite mundane plot that plods along. However, if you are a fan of old 70's and 80's exploitation films then you are in for a real treat. The story follows a man, who has been sent a video of his recently deceased daughter in a porn film. She's smacked off her t*ts and obviously isn't a willing participant. He takes it upon himself to track down all copies of said film, and anyone involved in it's making...And destroy them! This is gritty stuff. With little to no soundtrack, there is almost a documentary feel to it. It really makes you ask the question: What would you do? Although the plot isn't at all similar, it has the same kind of realism to films like the underrated 70's classic 'death weekend' and 'The Last House on the Left'. There is real drama here and characters that you truly root for. I hope this little gem doesn't slip under the radar because there are a lot of film fans (myself included) that have been waiting for this type of film to come along since the early 80's!

This is a story of one man's revenge against the people he holds responsible for the death of his daughter. It's a grim and grimy revenge tale full of bloody violence. It won't appeal to everyone and my wife ceased watching after 5 minutes but if you like these kinds of movie then you are likely to enjoy this.

The acting is pretty good and I thought Peter Marsh did a good job at gaining sympathy as the grief stricken dad doling out his own particular brand of justice. Brad McMurray is also worth a mention as one of the most imposing villains you could wish to see.

I wouldn't say this film had many surprises or a particular message but I find watching lowlife scum being deservedly dispatched pretty satisfying in its own right. The Horseman is a fast paced film and doesn't spend much time setting the scene before plunging straight into the action.

I enjoyed this film and thought it was a very good example of a quality revenge movie especially bearing in mind it's relatively low budget. Recommended.

but this is essentially an exploitation film.

The most outstanding thing is the lead actors performance which was pretty amazing. I was expecting more from the film after the first half an hour or so, but the film never achieves the depth that Peter Marshall's performance suggests. The script doesn't do justice to the production or the acting.

It's enjoyable revenge flick but to try and engage with it on a level beyond that just exposes how silly and tasteless it all is.

Despite these misgivings there is a lot to like about the film and I hope the director and Peter Marshall especially progress to bigger and better things.

He's in pest control. The pests are human; specifically, pornographers. And though the name badge on his denim work dungarees says 'Christian', his ethical sensibilities have more in common with the Old Testament than with turning the other cheek.

The apocalyptically titled 'The Horseman' is the latest in a galloping line of 'vigilante dad' films stretching back to Ingmar Bergman's 'The Virgin Spring', in which a father, usually a divorcée or widower, made nutty by grief, ruthlessly picks off those responsible for violating and/or offing their daughters, nieces or wives. 'What would you do?' these films ask, like a caring Dr Miriam Stoppard. Before supplying the answer in the voice of Michael Winner: 'blow their balls off, dear!'

In Paul Schrader's 'Hardcore', for example, George C Scott's single-parent Calvinist makes merry hell in the porn pits of Los Angeles, after spotting his runaway daughter Kristen in a blue movie. While in Steven Soderbergh's 'The Limey', Terence Stamp's ex-con investigates his daughter Jenny's suspicious death in - where else - LA, leaving a trail of dead heavies behind him. While the 2006 Danish animation Princess sees a former missionary taking bloody revenge on those contributing to his porn star sister's sordid demise. Charles Bronson, especially, has form here: in 1958's 'Gang War', his mild-mannered maths teacher becomes self-appointed judge, jury and executioner when his wife is murdered by mobsters. While in 1974's 'Death Wish', his mild-mannered architect (was anyone buying this, by the way?) turns squinty-eyed vigilante after muggers rape and kill his wife and daughter. To lose one family to muggers may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness, as Oscar Wilde observed, before Bronson shot him.

The common denominator for many of these films - or to put it another way, the movie they're half-inching their plots from - is Mike Hodges' Britcrime classic 'Get Carter', the daddy of 'relative retribution' movies, in which Michael Caine's one-man murder-machine avenges the death of his brother and the virtual rape of his niece Doreen, coerced into a stag flick called 'Teacher's Pet' by the plum-faced fellow who went on to pull pints for Arthur and Terry at The Winchester.

In The Horseman the anonymously-posted porn video goes by the lovely name of 'Young City Sluts II', whose leading lady Jesse latterly resides in an urn in her dad's van, having expired on a tide of booze, opiates and bodily fluids post-shoot. If nothing else, this film underlines the fact that human ashes do not look in the least like fine, velvety sand; they look like kitty litter. Roving through rural Queensland, Christian (Peter Marshall) attempts to restore the karmic balance, leaving the distributor, director and performers with faces resembling bowls of peach melba, and a shortfall of testicles. A scene in which one leery larrikin has fishing hooks threaded through his Niagaras nearly rivals Hard Candy for leg-crossing trauma.

"Ozzie boys terrorising each other!" is how Quentin Tarantino describes the golden era of Australian exploitation movies in Mark Hartley's fantastic documentary Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story Of Ozploitation! And Steven Kastrissios's unflinching debut feature is just that: a riper slice of old school-style Ozploitation you could hardly wish for. However, as Tarantino also emphasised, "The reason you watch exploitation cinema is to have those moments when you're like, 'is this actually happening?! Am I actually seeing this?!'" And the first time The Horseman whips up a skull-soufflé with the conversational end of a crowbar, it might well make you blink, or at least reconsider seeking employment with the adult film industry. Yet within the first half-hour The Horseman finds itself trotting up a cul-de-sac.

This is bum-numbingly repetitive stuff: the Horseman locates target, and the lumbering Ocker-Beasts roll around on the floor, until the Horseman finally gets the better of his opponent with something blunt. Repeat six times until the audience relinquishes the urge to exist or becomes fixated on a rogue popcorn husk stuck in the back of the throat.

It's a real pity, because buried among the endless stabbings, gougings and nipple abuse (not to mention an unlikely scene when our middle-aged anti-hero dispatches three muscled twentysomethings single-handedly) there's clearly a classier movie struggling to get a word in edgeways. Aside from a solid central performance by Marshall as the deeply troubled, self-harming anti-hero, there's some interesting, complex stuff surrounding issues of culpability (Jesse, we discover, entered the industry entirely of her own volition), some fine technical flourishes, and good, naturalistic rapport between Christian and the young hitchhiking runaway Alice (Caroline Marohasy) he meets on the road, and with whom he comes to share an ersatz father-daughter relationship; a plot strand which also turns up in Hardcore - the ultra-devout Jake Van Dorn striking up a similar bond with Season Hubley's young hooker Niki.

So while The Horseman mightn't be the most accomplished entry in the recent New Wave of Australian horrors (see also Greg McLean's 'Wolf Creek' and 'Jamie Blanks' 'Storm Warning') this isn't to suggest it's altogether bound for the knacker's yard. There's enough potential here to suggest director Kastrissios is definitely a name to watch. He just needs to trust the fact that audiences are just as interested in characterisation and narrative as in seeing white walls repeatedly decorated with 'Neural Mist' by Dulux.