Directed by Jeff Wolfe, Outbreak promises psychological dread and emotional turmoil against the backdrop of a creeping viral catastrophe—but ends up delivering little more than a tepid, trauma-soaked shuffle through familiar terrain.
The film follows a State Park Ranger (Billy Burke) and his wife (Alyshia Ochse) as they navigate the emotional wreckage of their teenage son’s disappearance, only to be confronted by a mysterious outbreak that further destabilises their world. As the infection spreads, so too does the sense of despair—but unfortunately, not much tension.
Billy Burke anchors the film with an earnest and committed performance, his weathered presence lending weight to otherwise limp material. Wolfe allows plenty of room for grief to dominate the narrative, but the pacing is sluggish, and the dramatic beats soon feel repetitive. Rather than building momentum, Outbreak spirals into melodrama, with a script that too often leans on genre clichés and a plot that telegraphs its twists from miles away.
There are a few flashes of atmosphere—some moody cinematography and eerie silences—but the film’s tonal heaviness overshadows its horror ambitions. The virus metaphor is serviceable, and by the time the film reaches its climax, the emotional payoff feels muted and overly familiar.
Despite its promising premise and a solid cast including Raoul Max Trujillo, Taylor Handley, and Jessica Frances Dukes, Outbreak plays it safe when it desperately needed to take risks. Watchable, sure—but only for the curious or the committed fans of the cast. For most, this is a slow trudge through thematic terrain that’s already been better navigated by others.
Outbreak will be available to rent or buy on DVD & Digital across Apple TV, Prime Video, Google TV, YouTube, and Fetch (AU) from July 2nd.
When people talk about Day of the Dead (1985), it’s often in terms of technical achievement—Tom Savini’s masterclass in practical gore, the feral intensity of Joseph Pilato’s Captain Rhodes, or Romero’s pessimistic descent into nihilism. But forty years on, what resonates most deeply is something quieter, more human. It’s Lori Cardille’s grounded, gut-punched performance as Sarah—the film’s reluctant anchor, emotional centre, and overlooked Final Girl of the apocalypse.
Sarah doesn’t scream her way through Romero’s third instalment. She endures. She negotiates with tyrants. She dissects corpses. She cries in silence. In a film drenched in testosterone and hopelessness, Cardille brings a quiet defiance that holds the chaos at bay—not with guns or bravado, but with composure. It’s not the scream queen trope we were sold in the ’80s. It’s something rarer: a portrait of strength amidst absolute collapse.
When I had the honour of interviewing Lori Cardille, what struck me most was her thoughtful insight into what Sarah represented. This wasn’t just another horror role—it was personal. Her father, Bill Cardille, had worked with Romero on Night of the Living Dead. She wasn’t entering a franchise; she was stepping into a legacy. And yet, rather than echo the past, she quietly redefined the role of the horror heroine for a world that had lost its mind.
Romero’s vision in Day of the Dead is arguably his bleakest. The world above is overrun, but it’s the bunker below that’s truly inhuman. Soldiers and scientists alike disintegrate into bickering, cruelty, and delusion. The infected may moan and lurch, but the real horror is watching people lose their grip on reason. In that nightmare, Sarah becomes the audience’s last tether to empathy. When she breaks, we break. When she fights, we cling to hope.
Cardille’s performance is far from showy. That’s its strength. She plays Sarah as someone on the edge of psychological exhaustion, pushing through trauma on pure nerve. She’s a survivor, yes, but also a witness—one who sees the whole of civilization unravel and still chooses, somehow, to believe in the possibility of something better. Her silence speaks volumes in a film where the men are always shouting.
The Prognosis:
It’s a shame that Day of the Dead was initially dismissed by some as the lesser of Romero’s original trilogy. Yes, it lacks the cultural revolution of Night and the satirical punch of Dawn, but it offers something more intimate: a portrait of what’s left when hope has withered. And at the centre of it is a woman trying not to scream, trying to build something in the ruins, trying to survive without becoming what she’s fighting against.
Forty years later, that feels more relevant than ever.
Saul Muerte
🎙 From the Vault: Lori Cardille on Becoming Sarah
“I didn’t see Sarah as a hero in the traditional sense. She was tired, she was holding on by a thread, and that’s what made her strong. She wasn’t there to be the last woman standing—she was there to try and hold something together while everything fell apart.” — Lori Cardille, on portraying Sarah in Day of the Dead
In a genre often obsessed with scream queens and final girls who triumph in blood-soaked glory, Sarah survives not with a chainsaw or one-liner, but with focus, resolve, and fragility. Cardille’s portrayal elevates Day of the Dead into something more than just a bleak zombie flick—it becomes a meditation on holding onto your humanity when the world has long since lost its own.
In 28 Days Later (2002), Danny Boyle and Alex Garland didn’t just kick the zombie genre into overdrive—they reanimated it. With rage-fueled infected, urgent digital grit, and a raw emotional core, it felt like the end of the world captured in real time. The sequel, 28 Weeks Later, traded intimacy for scale and kept the horror grounded in family trauma and moral collapse. Now, 28 Years Later arrives with all the right ingredients—Boyle and Garland reunited, a new angle on the infected, and a haunting performance from Jodie Comer—yet somehow the dish feels tepid, left too long to simmer in its own legacy.
Set nearly three decades after the initial outbreak, the film offers an evolved world, where quarantine zones remain ruthlessly enforced and life persists in liminal spaces. Comer plays Isla, a survivor embedded in a tight-knit community on a remote island connected to the mainland by a single, heavily guarded causeway. It’s a solid setting, rife with dread and potential—one that echoes the tension and bleak solitude of the original. But where 28 Days Later propelled itself with primal urgency, this entry often feels subdued, wandering through plot points instead of sprinting toward them.
The heart of the story follows a lone expedition back into the mainland’s infected heartland, where the infected have not only continued to mutate, but so too have the remnants of human society. The central theme once again revolves around family dynamics, something that has served as a connective tissue across all three films: Brendan Gleeson’s tragic turn in Days, the fractured Carlyle-McCormack family in Weeks, and now a newly-formed surrogate bond at the centre of Years. But here, it feels overemphasised to the point of distraction—particularly in scenes involving Ralph Fiennes, whose ponderous monologues often stall the film’s pulse when it should be quickening.
Comer, however, is the standout. Her portrayal of Isla brings grit, empathy, and conviction to a role that could’ve easily fallen into genre archetypes. She’s the emotional engine of the film, grounding it in human stakes even as the narrative wobbles into philosophical excess. The supporting cast handles their parts well, but none leave quite the same mark.
Visually, Boyle still knows how to stage devastation. His direction remains bold, capturing dereliction and dread with poetic framing. Garland’s script toys with paranoia, substance use, and psychological collapse—recurring themes for the duo—but here they feel more like recycled motifs than fresh meditations. There’s also an odd tonal shift in the final act, when the film suddenly veers into kung fu-style combat and hallucinatory spectacle, abandoning its grounded realism for a jarring dose of genre whiplash. The effect is disorienting and not entirely earned.
Fans looking for the visceral shock and bleak urgency of 28 Days Later may be disappointed. This is not that film. The infected still rage, the world still crumbles, but the pulse has slowed. The film’s strongest moments are its quietest – glimpses of survival, the cost of trust, the strange rituals that have replaced society. But in its desire to evolve, 28 Years Later sometimes forgets what made the original bite so hard in the first place.
The Prognosis:
28 Years Later is a fascinating, if flawed, return to a world that reshaped horror cinema. It’s packed with emotional resonance and striking visuals but often stumbles under the weight of its own ambitions. The virus has changed. Maybe the filmmakers have too.
Hammer Films continued their dominance in 1966 with The Plague of the Zombies, a feature that, while not as immediately iconic as Dracula: Prince of Darkness, cemented itself as an important entry in the zombie subgenre. Directed by John Gilling, who also helmed The Reptile the same year, the film delivers a chilling tale set in a Cornish village, blending gothic horror with biting social commentary.
Plot Overview The story follows Sir James Forbes (André Morell) and his daughter Sylvia (Diane Clare), who arrive in a remote Cornish village at the request of Dr. Peter Thompson (Brook Williams). The village is plagued by mysterious deaths, and the local workers are inexplicably dying only to rise from their graves as soulless, mindless zombies. As Forbes and Thompson investigate, they discover a dark secret—an aristocratic landowner, Squire Hamilton (John Carson), is using voodoo rituals to reanimate the dead and exploit them as free labor in his mine.
A Zombie Film Before Zombies Were “Cool” One of the most intriguing aspects of The Plague of the Zombies is how it predates the modern depiction of zombies popularised by George Romero. These zombies aren’t quite the flesh-eating monsters we now associate with the genre, but they are terrifying nonetheless, with a blank, lifeless gaze and grotesque, decayed appearances. Hammer’s visual flair shines here, with atmospheric graveyard sequences that perfectly capture the gothic dread the studio was famous for.
Though Hammer often leaned into supernatural threats like vampires and werewolves, The Plague of the Zombies took the less-trodden path of Haitian voodoo. This decision gives the film a unique flavor, mixing occult practices with the more grounded horror of a small community gripped by fear.
Social Critique Wrapped in Horror Beyond its zombie scares, the film weaves in a critical commentary on class exploitation. Squire Hamilton’s use of undead miners as a form of free labor is a not-so-subtle jab at the oppressive landowning class exploiting the working poor. The film’s rural setting and class dynamics evoke a sense of timeless exploitation—those in power using any means to control and subjugate the weak, even beyond death.
Hammer was never shy about blending horror with social themes, and The Plague of the Zombies proves that sometimes the real monsters are those in positions of power, rather than the supernatural creatures they control.
Style and Atmosphere John Gilling’s direction amplifies the eerie and claustrophobic nature of the village. The misty moors and the decaying village set the tone perfectly, creating a sense of isolation and doom. Cinematographer Arthur Grant, who also worked on The Reptile and Dracula: Prince of Darkness, brought a distinct visual flair to the film, utilising shadows and the bleak landscape to enhance the film’s grim atmosphere.
The makeup and practical effects, while simple by today’s standards, were groundbreaking at the time. The look of the zombies—complete with decaying skin and empty eyes—has a nightmarish quality that lingers long after the credits roll.
Tying It All Together As part of Hammer’s 1966 lineup, The Plague of the Zombies fits in perfectly with the studio’s exploration of gothic horror themes while pushing the boundaries of what could be depicted on screen. It was innovative in its treatment of the undead, laying groundwork for future zombie films while maintaining the moody, atmospheric aesthetic Hammer was renowned for.
While the film might not have the star power of a Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing, it holds its own as a crucial entry in Hammer’s catalogue. More than just a horror film, The Plague of the Zombies is a somber reflection on the exploitation of the working class, wrapped in the trappings of gothic terror.
Hammer’s ability to elevate the horror genre, even with a modest budget, proves that 1966 was a year where they truly owned horror. The Plague of the Zombies remains a haunting and unique piece of their legacy—a grim reminder that horror can be both socially conscious and terrifying at the same time.
Before the Spierig Brothers would take on what would be their second feature film as their writer, director, producer team with Daybreakers starring Ethan Hawke, and possibly their best movie to date.
Before they would even attempt to expand the Saw franchise with Jigsaw and then to breathe further life into the Hammer Films productions with Winchester, they would craft their first feature, Undead; a schlocky, low budget, zombie / alien invasion feast set in remote Australia. The movie has just been released by Umbrella Entertainment as a Blu-ray/Dvd edition for their Beyond Genres collection. Check out the extras at the foot of this article.
The movie itself is not exactly brain fodder, but I remember from its initial release back in 2003 that it was a lot of fun to watch and packed with that unusual blend of Aussie humour that always seems to lift the storyline. There are some iconic moments too, namely from Mungo Mckay’s character Marion, a doomsday prepper who has encountered a paranormal encounter before and has been subjected to being an outcast ever since. His performance channels somewhere between Ash Campbell for sheer resilience and his namesake, James Wayne, with a cowboy like approach to survival and armed with a triple shotgun among his many resources.
Interestingly though, Marion isn’t the hero of the movie, as our lead protagonist falls to meek Rene (Felicity Mason) who has been a downtrodden character most of her life and just wants to get the hell out of Kansas. When push comes to shove though, she soon shows her metal and comes out fighting.
To look at this movie and scorn the performances though which I have seen some people comment on is to miss the style that The Spierig Brothers were going for. Clearly, they wanted to experiment with some visual effects, something that the extras in this release shines a light on. Undead would be their showpiece and a playing field for them to experiment with what they could do through a feature narrative. The problem as always is budget, which there wasn’t a lot of. So knowing this, the filmmakers went with a ramped up melodramatic, pulp style 50’s invasion feel. One that, knowing this beforehand, takes the pressure of applying a highbrow response to and simply letting it flow and enjoying the ride.
The film is packed with a lot of set play, from zombies attacking, survival instincts, seedy characters, bullheaded police officers, aliens, infection and nods to the era that formed the base of these kind of movies, one that comes to mind are some of the earlier scenes in Village of the Damned. There are also elements of Night of the Living Dead at play here, all of which goes to show that The Spierig Brothers are lovers of their craft and with Undead shows a great introduction to the celluloid mainstream with a film that wears its heart on its sleeve. So while it may not be original or groundbreaking, Undead still offers enough to entertain and essential viewing for film lovers who are interested in following the journey of a couple of creatives in the rise.
By now Zack Snyder’s Netflix feature starring Dave Bautista is a massive streaming success which indicates that it was firmly on the pulse of the average punters celluloid palette.
You can see why as the trailer promises a jam-packed action feast billed as a cross between a comrade bank heist flick with elements of Oceans 11 (The Vegas element has a lot to do with this), with a post apocalyptic zombie infested world. The films detailed prologue entails a zombie outbreak in the greed, glitz and glam of Las Vegas which is contained by huge storage containers that form a wall around the city.
Then we’re presented with the premise. There’s money ripe for the picking in the vaults of the casinos and Bly Tanaka (Hiroyuki Sanada) employs Scott (Bautista) to form a crack guerilla team to infiltrate the quarantined city and retrieve the bounty. It’s a mad proposition but one Scott is willing to take up for a chance to rebuild his life and possibly reconnect with his daughter Kate (Ella Purnell), who he has become estranged with since the zombie outbreak occured.
Once the carrot has been dangled, the audience then sit back and eagerly wait for the carnage to begin. But first we must endure the Mission Impossible style formation of the team and our introduction to them and possible zombie fodder. There’s two of Scott’s former associates, Maria Cruz (Ana de le Ruguera) and Vanderhoe (Omari Hardwick) the spiritual member of the group, helicopter pilot Marianne (Tig Notaro, who stepped into replace Chris D’Elia through CGI and green screens costing Snyder a fair packet of the production costs), German safecracker Dieter (Matthias Schweighöfer), and Chicano sharpshooter Guzman (Raúl Castillo) to name but a few.
Once the set up is established Scott’s daughter Kate, Tanaka’s associate Martin, and with the help of Lily aka The Coyote, the team sneak into the quarantined walls to carry out their mission. The catch, The Government are planning on nuking the whole city in a couple of days, so there’s no time for messing around. Plus, you know, it amplifies the tension… And of course you know that that timeline is going to shorten once said Government decide to move the nuke strike up, meaning the team have even less time to complete their task.
Here’s the thing that gets my goat though. With such a cool premise, there’s not much substance for the audience to chew on. Some may counter that with me, stating that it does exactly what it says on the tin. But I like my movies served a little cooked, not raw.
There is some humour on display and some strangled attempts at deep and meaningful chats along the way, but it’s missing some zing to tantalise us with.
Since watching the film there’s been some online discussions about Scott’s team stuck in a time loop purgatory, and this idea I can get behind and if there is truth to this theory, all of a sudden this film gets elevated a little in my reception of it. With rumours of a follow up film on the horizon and with Netflix’s success story to couple it, I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t fleshed out in some way. I just hope that they can work on the story a little more and give the characters more to work with now that they’ve been established and give the audience a more hefty and enjoyable experience.
The Diagnosis:
Snyder provides us with another gloriously shot, stellar CGI, packed with some cracking action. But it is a little half baked and rests on a small thread of an idea. Yes that’s a cool thread, but needs more time and energy spent on building up the storyline and characters to allow them to stand out more. But I guess time is the real player here. And time will tell if this story will continue and we get more from Snyder’s world or not.
There is a lot to praise about this film, but chiefly is its stance on American colonialism and thrusting the theme of zombie horror as the platform to herald from. The term Blood Quantum is from the Indian Blood Laws in the United States that determine Native American identity by the percentages of their ancestry, for example if you are born from a mother and father who are considered 100 percent Native American, you would be deemed as having pure blood.
It is this concept that is then carried through the film’s narrative which determines those with Native American blood, immune to a zombie outbreak that occurs.
When we meet our lead characters, they are a mismatch of family members, fractured by the toils that society has placed upon them. There’s the patriarchal figure in Traylor , an indigenous sheriff, who despite being the lead authority in the fishing town, has had his fair share of mistakes to bear his soul. The biggest test that Traylor must face is the bestow upon his two (Michael Greyeyes) sons (both from different mothers) the responsibilities that adulthood brings. One of his sons, Joseph (Forrest Goodluck) has the promise to take on this role, but is prone to self-sabotage and avoidance, which is primarily brought around by the daunting task of becoming a father himself. The other son, Lysol (Kiowa Gordon) seems to be beyond salvation, content on playing by his own rules. Traylor certainly has his work cut out for him under normal circumstances, but this all unfolds in the middle of a zombie outbreak.
Thankfully, he’s supported by some kick-ass individuals along the way to protect him, his family and community along the way. Among them are his own father, Gisigu (Stonehorse Lone Goeman), a sword-wielding fiend who certainly knows how to hold his own and bastion of his kin. There’s also Traylor’s ex-wife, and mother to Joseph, Joss (Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers), who also happens to be a nurse. In this narrative, she serves as the constant strength and support to her family, despite all of their flaws.
The Prognosis:
The first half an hour of the movie as the zombie outbreak is unleashed, is jam-packed with tension as the lead characters first fathom what they are faced with and then how to survive this ordeal.
Unfortunately the middle section sags a little as the community has set up a refuge six months after the outbreak and learn that they are immune from the virus. The film struggles to stay afloat during this phase and at times feels that it is in danger of losing all the promise that led the stories charge.
Blood Quantum’s saving grace comes from the strength of its characters. The inner turmoil that is evident in the set up, and like the virus itself, cannot be saved. Instead it is down to the most resilient of them to prevail and find a way out of their predicament. Just a shame it wasn’t able to keep the pace throughout.
TheDead Don’t Die is a classic example of how marketing can abuse the cinema-going public into flocking to the cinema in anticipation of a certain type of movie based on its trailer, only to be completely underwhelmed. Packed with an awesome cast in Bill Murray, Adam Driver, Chloe Sevigny, Tilda Swinton, Tom Waits, and Danny Glover, to name but a few, we’re led to believe that the film would tap into a beating, bloody pulse, with rampaging zombies and killer comedy lines akin to Shaun of the Dead. In some ways, it felt like “they” were trying to market an independent, off-beat film and project it into mainstream culture to ride the coattails of a genre that is hot property right now. You could argue, that this is the job of a production distributor, and if they are comfortable with pulling in the punters and forego the negative backlash, then so be it. In this humble writers mind, it sets the movie in a bad light and the shadow that this may cast will be forever enveloped in darkness.
Those who are more familiar with director Jim Jarmusch’s work though, may have gone in with a more open mind and curious to see how he would weave a horror-themed element into his minimalist narrative. There’s a reason that big-hitter names are constantly drawn to his style of work as Jarmusch favours character development and eccentricity tends to be brought to the fore among a slow-yet-comedic pace. Movies such as Night on Earth, Dead Man, and Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai resonated with the cinema-going public in search of an alternate view on the celluloid screen. So, I was hopeful that TDDD would pep along and perhaps add something to the genre that would offer something fresh to the mix. Unfortunately the offering is stale and weak in comparison to Jarmusch’s early work and there is nothing new on the slab to satiate fans of the genre. It’s almost ironic that the look and feel of the movie is reminiscent of B-Movie horror films of the 50s, (possibly an area true to Jarmusch’s heart) in that TDDD is trapped in this time and place and feels content to sit in its world, unwilling to conform with modern trends and interests. Similarly, its leads Chief Cliff Robertson (Murray) and Officer Ronnie Peterson (Driver) are stuck in the middle-town sentiments, that they are the rest of the town are doomed to the post-apocalyptic zombie crisis that has fallen on them. In fact, it’s the bumbling hermit (Waits) who is content in living amongst the wild and restless that may outlast and outwit them all, which in of itself poses some interesting questions. Questions that by the films conclusion, most viewers would have lost interest.
The acting was strong and a stand out for me was Caleb Landry Jones (Get Out) as the gas station attendant and is fast becoming an actor to watch, but ultimately there wasn’t enough substance to grip my attention.
The Diagnosis:
For horror fans, this movie is D.O.A.
For Jarmusch fans, it’s full of nods and references, but it isn’t on par with his best movies. One for completists only.
All I saw were the words Christmas zombie horror musical and I said to myself, “I’m in!” It may sound like a strange combination, but to this deranged and perhaps delusional genre fan, it screamed potential cult flick and a must see, but would it live up to the buzz or flatline?
Based on the BAFTA award winning short
film, Zombie musical by Ryan McHenry (which is actually kind of awesome too and
I’ll post a youtube clip of it at the foot of the review for those that are
interested) and adapted to feature length by director John McPhail, who does
his best to draw out the apocalyptic harmonies with drama, and twinges of gore.
Anna and the Apocalypse’s greatest strength is not just the upbeat music among the bloodlust, but the beating heart of its central characters. There is plenty of time spent building on their backgrounds that by the time things inevitably go wrong you actually give a damn about their survival.
Central to the characters is the titular
Anna played by Ella Hunt, who dreams of getting far away from the dead Scottish
town of Little Haven, only to awaken to a zombie outbreak and must fight tooth
and nail to not only survive but reach those she had tried so desperately to
leave behind – her friends and family.
In support is a cracker of a cast in the best friend who keeps hanging onto the hopes of winning Anna’s heart, John (Malcolm Cumming) who incidentally has some of the best lines in the movie; the star-crossed lovers, Chris (Christopher Leveaux) and Lisa (Marli Siu); Anna’s ex and complete tool, Nick (Ben Wiggins); and Anna’s father, Tony (Mark Benton).
Stand out performances though come from Paul Kaye (most notable of late in HBO’s Game of Thrones as Thoros of Myr) as the slightly unhinged headmaster, and looks like he hasn’t this much fun on-screen since his Dennis Pennis days; also relative unknown Sarah Swire, who plays a lesbian outcast editor of the school newspaper. She nails this role with her cross of stifled, uncomfortable social behaviour, combined with grit and “bad-ass” zombie killing action.
If I were to hurl any criticism at this film though, it’s that Anna doesn’t bring enough of that grit herself to the fight, and despite being described by her friends as “always finding a way out of things”, she rarely does and often relies on those friends to get her out of a jam. That’s not to say that Hunt doesn’t execute her role well, because she does. Just some more time and care spent on the writing, could have lifted her character to greater heights. The other sticking point for me is that the comedy whilst worth the odd-chuckle, never reaches Shaun of the Dead style humour. If the wit had been that little bit sharper, we could have well had a movie that would have easily verged on classic status.
The Diagnosis:
The thought of a musical may have some of you running for the hills, but Anna and the Apocalypse is a well-crafted film that embraces its characters before ripping out their bleeding hearts to the sounds of pop-infused drama and soul that make this a thoroughly enjoyable movie.
Cargo is a zombie film – supposedly filled with gore, scary bits, and tension. Which it is. However, unlike your stereotypical low budget Z movie, Cargo has some real, raw emotions presented by all the characters; accompanied by some absolutely stunning shots of rural Australia. Some scenes in this film are beautiful – human beautiful and scenic beautiful.
It starts with a family of 3, Andy (Martin Freeman), Kay (Susie Porter) and their baby daughter Rosie (played by something like 4 separate babies, because child labour laws exist for a reason).
We find our threesome slowly flowing down a waterway on a riverboat, which (it is soon implied) is not theirs (ie: they’ve knicked it). They then discover another young family camping on shore, with the father being played by Andy Rodoreda; the actor who portrayed Martin Freeman’s character in the original Tropfest short that THIS film is based on.
Which must have been a weird experience for him, but if he wanted to hold onto his part, he should have been more famous. Its called show business and not show charity for a reason…
Anyway – from Andy & Kay’s dialogue and various other tell-tale signs – like Rodoreda threatening Freeman off with a gun (probably because he stole his role…) we get the impression an apocalypse of the Z kind has happened, and humanity is hanging by a thread with survivors quickly running out of options.
That’s when “the incident” happens (which you just KNEW it would) that changes everything between Andy and Kay (and their daughter). And soon incredibly tough decisions of the “what would you sacrifice” kind have to be made. What would you do? And perhaps more importantly…what wouldn’t you do…?
It is this theme that fuels the movie, and it takes a powerful performance to pull it off. With Freeman they get it.
Set against the backdrop of Australia’s unique beauty, it is clear that a lot of thought has gone into the cinematography. From a native plant in the corner of the screen, to the sun accentuating the features of the actors; every frame is truly a painting.
The Diagnosis:
Cargo is a well thought out, beautiful, tension filled zombie film that will do something very few horror flicks can, because whilst the best ones make you scared or tense, very few can also make you cry. Cargo will do all three.