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I was thrilled to see a movie like "Wolf Creek" come out in theatres: a straightforward horror film not relying on clever twists (except one, small one) or gimmicks. It was the kind of film "High Tension" started off as before that last act mindf*ck. And while I ended up appreciating what that movie did, I would have loved it more without the twist.

"Wolf Creek" picks up where films like "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Last House on the Left" left off, without feeling the need to necessarily "pay homage" to them. I wonder if the fact that it's not American-made has anything to do with that. I also wonder if the non-American influence kept this from becoming predictable or familiar in any way. What you think is going to happen in this film never quite happens. One of the original "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" taglines was, "Who Will Survive and What Will Be Left of Them?" I think this film asks the same question, but doesn't provide so simple an answer.

I think it's best to know little about "what happens" here before seeing it. Most people know the basics--three backpackers on a road trip, they stop at remote Wolf Creek, entering an odd Twilight Zone of stopped time and dead car engines. A friendly bushman stops by willing to help, let the nightmare begin.

I love that director/writer/producer Greg McLean never offers an explanation for the watches and the car engine. What happens in this film seems almost alien--three humans struggling to survive on what appears like a distant, barren planet, up against a hunter with no semblance of humanity in him. Yes, this movie is very similar to "Texas Chainsaw Massacre," but it is in no way a rip-off. While the early-morning showdown on the barren road may look similar to the climax of TCM, it is its own nightmarish entity. In fact, some of the scene reminded me of "Duel." The acting in this movie is brilliant. The three leads--Ben, Kristi, and Liz--are so wonderfully likable, and there is an odd feeling of improvisation in the acting. It's so natural, it seems impossible to script. When everything goes to hell, you want all three of them to survive, and you'll surely be devastated by the slightest injury any of them endures. Many have complained about the hour or so of build up, but I think it was brilliant on McLean's part to make sure we cared about these people, and then to put them through the wringer. It's sadistic, too, emotionally, but it's the sign of a great director.

John Jarratt, as Mick, is unforgettably cruel. Jarratt embodies this character from head to toe, and is fearless in his performance. Mick is an ugly, cruel man, and yet when we first meet him, he seems like the nicest guy in the world. One of the scariest aspects to this film is that you can see yourself falling for all of his tricks.

To be honest, I never want to see "Wolf Creek" again. It's not a fun movie. I left wanting to hate it, because I hated what happened. But I admire this movie for what it managed to do. I truly had to keep repeating to myself, "It's only a movie," (the infamous "Last House on the Left" tagline) but it's so realistic and so unflinching in portraying what happens, that you'll feel as if someone was always peeking around a corner with a camera, filming an actual event. Of course, this is based on true events, and frankly, there is some discrepancy to how "true" this film tries to be (obviously, much of the second act had to be dramatized, and you'll realize why once you see the movie) but it didn't need that "based on true events" tag. It's already very real.

I hate to end on the old "Jaws" cliché, but as I am going to Australia soon, I can say for a fact that this does do for backpacking what "Jaws" did for swimming. I consider this movie a parable of sorts. Well done.

There's something quite spectacular about this film. It has incredible depth--like welcomed tangents, we are given the main story but then we are sometimes sent into the background to look at the world these people live in. We see a situation, and then go into someone's mind to see what memories this triggered. This movie creates an inner life for its main characters, so much so that I don't like to call them "characters," because they in themselves and their predicament are so real, it's frightening.

A synopsis for "Sunday Bloody Sunday" must be abstract. Two lonely people--a doctor and a young businesswoman--are each having an affair with a perhaps even lonelier person, a young artist. He moves between them gracefully. They both know of each other. Everyone's in on it, but no one's asking too many questions, for fear of the truth. The artist stays with the woman one weekend, and then dashes off to the doctor, leaving her heartbroken, and the doctor elated. Then he switches back, and the emotions switch. "I've had this business where anything's better than something," the woman says at one point. "But I have to believe at some point that nothing is better than anything." A tricky line--forgive me if I've paraphrased a bit--but it's the essence of the film.

Eventually, the artist will be leaving for America. He tells them both he won't be gone for long. But there is a hidden suggestion that he may never come back, and they will both be left with only themselves to console.

It really is a fantastic story, with some real truth in it. "I know, you're not getting enough from me," the artist, Bob, tells Alex, the woman of the love triangle. "But you're getting all there is." (Once again, paraphrasing?) But alas, who perhaps hasn't been in that situation, where you just want more from someone who has so little to give? This really strikes a chord.

The acting, of course, is fantastic. Peter Finch, ever the distinguished gentleman, is so much more than the clichéd "tortured homosexual" of early cinema, as Daniel, the doctor. It's an intriguing role, Oscar-worthy, in my opinion. How do you play such an established, supposedly secure, mature person caught up in an absolutely desperate affair? Whatever it takes, Finch nails it. His monologue at the very end of the movie is amazing. His swan song in this movie.

Glenda Jackson is unbelievable. I'd heard of her, but never seen any of her work. She has this fire in her eyes, this tension in her face. You're just waiting for her to explode like an Edward Albee woman. But she keeps it all in here, struggling to stay composed, except for one fantastic scene in the Park when the child is running after the dog. The rage and terror in her eyes is scary. And there is a beautiful scene, after Bob leaves her the first time, where she is sitting in the kitchen, eating fudge, reading, and trying so hard not to cry. It doesn't look a stitch like acting. Another Oscar-worthy performance. One of the last times we see her is when she is climbing the stairs to her apartment. Even from far away, watching her slowly, sadly return to her life, is so heartbreaking. Great stuff here.

Murray Head is so perfect as Bob. He plays the unaffected golden boy, the object of affection, so well here. He makes the audience love him and despise him and want more of him, just as he does with Daniel and Alex. I think Head gets overlooked a bit because of Finch and Jackson--no fault of anyone's, they are deservedly praised here--but he is equally as impressive, and utterly convincing.

The supporting cast, all in small but strong roles, is fantastic. Peggy Ashcroft does a lot with limited screen time as Alex's mother. She also has some wonderful lines about marriage and relationships in her one scene. Also fantastic are, I believe, Alex's sister and brother-in-law. The people she babysits for. So reminiscent of the progressive parents of today. And those children...what a wonderfully nightmarish brood. Particularly the oldest girl. An intriguing role, well-done.

I loved the use of the music from "Cosi Fan Tutti" and the running theme of telephones here, and seeing the inner workings of the telephone system. It said so much about these characters and everything they try to do to make a connection. There's so much I could say about this movie. But just see it. It's a modern classic, in my opinion, and strangely enough, holds up so very well today, over thirty years later. Heartbreak never gets old. Unfortunately.

Of course, "A Delicate Balance" can not be spoken of without referring to some way to Albee's other masterpiece, "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I think the Pulitzer that "A Delicate Balance" won was supposed to be shared by "Woolf," which was rejected at the time for being too vulgar.

Not to say that "A Delicate Balance" is not a worthy dramatic work. It's an incredibly intelligent script; Albee makes broad statements about love and aging here that might be missed in a first viewing. Yet "Woolf" shows a much smoother weaving of absurdism into matters than "Balance." I was far more convinced by George and Martha's "son" than I was by Harry and Edna's "terror." As far as transitioning from stage to screen, I thought "Woolf" was also much better, but mostly because of Mike Nichols and Haskell Wexler, the cinematographer.

The cinematography here, I felt, was meant to look as much like a stage play as possible. And at times, I liked it. And the acting is so good in this movie (for the most part) that I was still hooked. But the whole time, I was thinking, "What if Mike Nichols directed this?" Alas, because there is no music either (it would have been nice), we're left only with the acting. And what a fine cast. Katherine Hepburn has a difficult role to pull off with Agnes; she is both the "fulcrum" of this family and, admittedly, part of its defeat. And she does it so well. There is this agony in her eyes towards the latter half of the film that you just can't look away from. And I like her mannerisms, the way she toys with words, the voices she does. Sure, sometimes a few words are lost, but it seemed fitting to the character. Agnes makes speeches (Claire and Tobias have a nice dialogue about this after Agnes's first exit), and I think she makes them for herself as much as she does anybody else. And Hepburn makes it all intriguing. She holds her ground as arguably the finest actress of American cinema.

Paul Scofield ultimately disappointed me. Yes, he is bland and ineffectual, and despite the strength in his eyes, the confidence of his body language, he never quite makes a difference. He pulls all of that off well. And he does have one fantastic moment where Agnes says, "I'm not an old woman, am I?" and, perhaps inspired by Claire and her accordion and drunkenness, grabs her chin and playfully says, "Well, you're my old lady!"--the most life we've seen in him the entire film--and Hepburn just rejects him. The way he pulls back and returns to his shell is painfully uncomfortable. But then, there is what Albee calls in the script an "aria" at the end, in the scene he has with Harry. This is Tobias's moment; the moment I waited for the entire film. I felt that Scofield botched it. He sits through almost all of it. He says only one or two of the lines with any real power, the kind of power Tobias should be storing up the entire movie. And at the end, when he cries--much too late, in my opinion--it is pathetic and almost ignored by anyone else in the room. (As the women do enter halfway through.) Anyway, I was really let down by this, and I think it's the biggest mistake this adaptation made.

Meanwhile, Kate Reid practically steals the film when Hepburn isn't looking. She's absolutely fantastic as Claire. What I really loved was how Reid managed to find the sympathy in Claire. Claire was once played by Elaine Stritch--can you imagine? How terrifying. But while Reid manages to reach those levels of darkness that Stritch probably could, she also turns her twisted past into something that makes her sympathetic of others. She knows pain. And by god, if she doesn't sound EXACTLY like Elizabeth Taylor in "Woolf." It's eerie, but for fans of Albee, incredibly comforting in its familiarity. As if, "This is the way to portray an Albee woman." And she also creates a unique chemistry with each character. I loved the relationship between Claire and Tobias, and the way every "act" of this movie (except for the ending) closed with the two of them. They have a bond that Agnes is wary of. Also, notice the strange way she interacts with Harry. It's rather terrific, and never truly highlighted.

Lee Remick was on and off here, but as one of the other reviewers pointed out, it's not a fully-realized role. Imagine: a woman of thirty-six divorced four times already. Where is the sense of failure, the constant rejection, the bitterness? Julia goes from being rather calm, smoking casually and turning her nose up at her mother, to a level of hysteria that would make Tennessee Williams wipe the sweat from his brow, with no clean transition. A confusing role.

Finally, Joseph Cotten and Betsy Blair. Once again, not fully-developed characters. Joseph Cotten played the role as I expected him to, and that's not a bad thing. He's a terrific actor. He doesn't necessarily make any mistakes here. Betsy Blair was on and off for me, and this I felt was her acting. There was a tentativeness in her voice, a resistance to really attacking the role of Edna and making her, honestly, as unwelcome as she was in this house. She is interesting in that she begins to take over for Agnes the longer she stays (there is a shot of Hepburn realizing this, and the look of horror on her face is absolutely brilliant), but I felt that Blair could have gone further with it.

I think "A Delicate Balance" is, as others have noted, a movie for Albee/theatre fans only. It's not cinematic ally engaging, but if you are familiar with the script, you may enjoy seeing an interpretation of it, particularly with Hepburn and Reid.