‘There’s something about blasting the shit out of a razorback that brightens up my whole day...’
Cinema is subjective. We know this. Not only does the perception of a film rest on personal preference, it also comes down to personal circumstances. If I watch a film in a cinema, I have some nice sweets, nobody gets their phone out during the showing and my back doesn’t hurt too much from sitting down too long, that film is more likely to receive a good score from me than if I watched that same film on my phone on an aeroplane while some kid kicked the back of my chair for eight hours. Razorback was a terrible experience for me in many ways. My baby daughter was kicking off the whole time (she’s not a fan of Australian creature features it seems). I was sleep-deprived. My wife had selfishly taken ill. And on top of that, I had to sit through this bullshit about a wild boar devouring children and murdering journalists. Why do I do it?
I’ve just recounted the plot above so let’s not concern ourselves with it here. Instead, let me count the ways this film didn’t work for me. Firstly, director Russell Mulcahy can’t decide who his protagonist is or indeed if there is one at all. It’s too dark. None of the characters are likeable or interesting. The beast itself barely appears (although I will concede it looks pretty cool whenever it does pop up). It’s a bloody mess.
Razorback feels like just another Jaws rip-off. Now, let’s never speak of it again.