“Australia. What fresh hell is this?” (The Proposition, 2005)
Images of the Outback permeate Australian cinema as a visual representation of national identity. Despite operating to connote ‘Australianness’, the rural landscape has often been depicted as one of extreme contrasts: either an idyll or a place of horror.  [1] Replicating the 1970s trend of horror classics that highlight the consequences of unrestrained rural idyll, filmic depictions of Australia routinely portray the land as an empty, sinister space; this in turn spawns rural excess as well as monsters, both man and beast. This article examines two films highlighted as part of the so-called Ozploitation movement – Razorback (1984) and Howling III: The Marsupials (1987) - and will argue that the portrayal of Australian ‘monsters’ are a reflection of anxieties about national character and the local film industry. The filmic portrayal of the Outback as a place of horror has often been described as ‘Australian Gothic’. [2] but despite the association of ‘monster movies’ with the cannon of exploitation or cult film, Australian films are rarely described as such.
 
Following the success of the documentary Not Quite Hollywood (Hartley, 2008), ‘Ozploitation’ has entered the common lexicon as a label for Australian genre films produced during the 1970s-80s. However, Ozploitation films do not share the traits attributed to classical exploitation film such as the emphasis on poor production values, and use of stock footage. [3] Further consideration suggests that Razorback and Howling III: The Marsupials do not merely share a nod to camp horror tropes, and a knowing humour, but they also endured harsh criticism centring on the legitimacy of tax concessions for filmmakers, and conflicting discourses of how to render a cohesive national identity on screen.  [4] Whilst the spectacle of the monstrous drives these narratives, the problematic national identity at the heart of earlier Australian Gothic films remains. ‘Ozploitation’ has gained traction in the popular press and the academy as an umbrella term for Australian genre films, and yet, as a distinct type, genre films have been omitted from discussions regarding the Australian film industry at large. This absence is indicative of the angst about the performance of the Australian film industry relative to financial investment, particularly in terms of quality, nationalism and cultural cringe. By examining these films in the context of their production and their unexpected revival as Ozploitation films, a deeper cognisance of the intricacy of the Australian film industry and its relationship to national identity can be achieved.
 
The Outback and ‘Australian Gothic’
The Outback is a ubiquitous presence in Australian film; indeed, Gibson’s research shows that the majority of Australian features have been about landscape. [5] He discusses how funding policy during the 1970s and 80s required filmmakers to articulate a cohesive national character on screen, and the simplest route to typify this elusive character was the use of the Australian landscape. By utilising the landscape as a signifier of Australianness, the image of the Outback becomes intrinsic to the designation of Australian identity. For Gibson, “in such national myths, the landscape becomes the projective screen for a persistent national neurosis deriving from the fear and fascination of the … continent” [6].  By projecting the landscape as a character in its own right, national anxieties regarding a cohesive Australian identity are in turn enacted through the ‘character’ of the land. This anxiety is amplified in both Razorback and The Howling III, via a double transgression. By activating the generic tropes of horror, coupled with the ‘projective screen’ of the landscape, the monsters that dwell within personify anxieties about national character that are then unleashed on unsuspecting intruders.
 
Turner has noted that images of the Australian Outback have evoked the dual nature of the bush legend in which “…the outback is a land of beauty and freedom as well as danger, exile, and hardship”. [7] The bush legend operates alongside the problematic concept of a cohesive ‘Australian identity’ focused on representations of white, Anglo-Saxon men, to the exclusion of all others. In their discussion of Wolf Creek (2005), Scott and Biron take the concept of duality a step further, observing that the Australian rural landscape more recently has been represented as either a place of idyll, or a place of horror. [8] During the 1970s, the unrestrained rural idyll was a recurring theme exemplified by horror staples such as Straw Dogs (1971), The Wicker Man (1973) and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974). Mimicking this trend, filmic depictions of the Australian Outback during this period portrayed the land as an empty, sinister space, which spawns rural excess (such as the racism, sexism and troubling masculinity found in Wake in Fright (1971).
 
In his discussion of Australian Gothic, Rayner establishes Wake in Fright as the parent of the genre, with its “… relentless gaze centring on the debasement of the population of an isolated town, whose decline into barbarism is viewed and paralleled by an outsider”. [9] Whilst his account discusses numerous Australian productions, as he states:

The nature of the rural community’s secret depravity alters subtly from film to film, but its otherness is a given. For the unsuspecting outsiders who venture by chance or accident into its confines, the insularity of the backwater town is a cause rather than a symptom of fatal difference. The perversity of rural townships and their residents forms the basis of gothic texts. [10]

Wake in Fright offers a more robust critique of Australian national character than is typically sanctioned by industry or critics. In spite of its depiction of rural Australian life revolving around excessive drinking and gambling, casual racism, sexual assault, exclusion of women, random acts of violence, this film is now lauded as one of the great triumphs of Australian cinema. At the time of its release, critical and international reception of the film was positive, yet the domestic box office was poor. Screenwriter Evan Jones believes the Australian audience misinterpreted Wake in Fright as a “… gratuitous attack on Australia”. [11] Jones’ reflection corresponds with reports that during an early screening of the film:

One audience member stood up and yelled ‘That’s not us!’; The response of Jack Thompson (Dick the kangaroo hunter in the film) was blunt: ‘Sit down, mate. It is us’ [In fact, director Ted Kotcheff has always] been keen to stress that the ‘us’ the film examines is man in general, without the definition of geographical borders. [12]

The steadfast refusal to accept critical portrayals of national character continues in recent Australian films such as Down Under (2016) and Australia Day (2017), both of which addressed systematic racism, and have only been screened in limited release.
 
It seems that the aesthetic framing of Wake in Fright as ‘quality’ or ‘art house’ in opposition to the camp aesthetics of Ozploitation films allows for the exposition of national character, despite its strident critique. After thirty years as a lost film, and four years of digital restoration, Wake in Fright was released on DVD in 2009, and enjoyed: “a rapturous cinematic run at the Sydney Film Festival” (Scott, 2009, 1). It appears that the DVD release has rehabilitated its image to the mainstream audience, and wider availability has elevated Wake in Fright to its rightful position of one of Australia’s finest films.
 
The same problematic features of national character that are highlighted in Wake in Fright feature in Razorback, and to a lesser extend Howling III. All three films criticise national identity and stereotypes, but according to B.K. Grant “what these movies more precisely have in common, what essentially makes these movies cultish, is their ability to be at once transgressive and recuperative, in other words, to reclaim what they seem to violate”. [13]  In line with my assertion regarding the aesthetic ‘quality’ of Wake in Fright, the subject matter of Razorback and Howling III only becomes problematic, when paired with the tropes of genre film. By operating in this mode, both films perform a double transgression, which cannot be recuperated. Razorback and the Howling III both use the camp spectacle of the monstrous to embody their critique of national character– and yet, the same feature that counters the severity of their appraisal is that which garnered negative reviews centred on the films’ perceived lack of quality, and taste.  
 
Whilst the spectacle of the monstrous remains at the forefront of these narratives, the underlying issue of rural excess at the heart of earlier Australian gothic films such as Wake in Fright and Long Weekend remains. For Laseur analysing the “… competing discourses [that pit] the commercial prospects of a product [against] its claims to cultural value” is an essential step towards a diverse and flourishing Australian film culture.” [14] The case study of Ozploitation films provides a valuable reminder of how “… a simple genre definition [remains] the site of cultural struggles regarding value”. [15]
 
By existing on the fringe of generic acceptability, Ozploitation films can remark upon the preoccupation with Australian identity, by playing with traditional stereotypes and fears about the Outback. Australian monsters such as the killer boar, and psychotic brothers in Razorback, or the human/marsupial hybrids in Howling III: The Marsupials operate as a metaphor for fears about national character, cultural cringe, and status of the local film industry. Retrospective examination of the reception of these films can tell us much about current debates in the Australian film industry regarding funding, and the insistence of government policy that films contain “Significant Australian Content”. [16]
 
Razorback and funding considerations
Razorback (1984) opens with Jake Cullen (Bill Kerr) babysitting his grandson at his home, ‘somewhere’ in the Australian outback. This image of rural idyll is soon disrupted by the frenzied attack of a giant razorback boar, who destroys his home, and eats his grandson alive. Jake is then tried for murder, and despite his tale about the razorback, he is believed to be guilty, yet acquitted for lack of evidence. Jake is consumed with the idea of avenging his grandson’s death, and vows to kill the razorback.  Several years later, American journalist and animal rights enthusiast, Beth Winters (Judy Morris), travels to Australia to report on kangaroo extinction. Upon arrival, she attempts to interview some of the locals and receives a hostile response, emphasising her outsider status. Beth then receives a tip that the local pet food-processing factory is involved in hunting wildlife for inclusion in their product. Following the tip, Beth drives to the factory alone hoping for an expose; when she trespasses on the property she encounters two of the plant workers, psychotic brothers, Benny (Chris Haywood) and Dicko (David Argue). Beth manages to escape their lecherous threats at the factory, however her return to town is thwarted when she is ambushed and run off the road by the brothers, who then rape her. The assault is interrupted by the arrival of the giant boar; Benny and Dicko escape and leave Beth for dead, and the razorback then kills her. After Beth’s disappearance, her husband Carl (Gregory Harrison) arrives to search for his wife, as he has been informed only that she is missing. As local authorities have not located her body, only the wreckage of her car, Beth is assumed to have accidently fallen down a mineshaft.  Carl meets Jake in town, and after hearing about the death of his grandson, suspects that Beth may have befallen the same fate. The rest of the film is occupied with Carl’s search for the truth about his wife, and revenge against the murderous brothers, and the wild pig.
 
Policy developments in the Australian film industry provide a valuable context for the reception of, in particular, genre films. Razorback was released during the peak of the 10BA tax laws to promote investment in Australian film. Under this scheme, screen producers were able to claim a tax deduction for eligible film production – a production subsidy. The initial deduction rate was set at 150 per cent in June 1981, before being reduced to 133% in 1983, and finally remaining set at 100% for the rest of its duration between 1987- 2007. [17]  The 10BA rebates were successful in sparking a boom in film production (334 features were made during the 1980s) – but they also provoked a debate about the quality of many of the films produced. Some commentators believed too many films were rushed into production to meet financial deadlines, and imported actors were being cast over Australian performers in order to meet marketing requirements. [18] However, most of the debate centred on preferential taste cultures and the admission of key policy makers that: “… many of us were very snobby about genre films, there’s no question about that. We didn’t approve of them”. [19]  For Jacka, alongside the obvious problem of defining quality Australian cinema:

… it gradually became clear that the 10BA film concessions did not necessarily give an outcome that was desirable in cultural or aesthetic terms … there was no mechanism intended to ensure that projects funded were ‘quality’ projects.  [20]

For policy makers, the release of Howling III: The Marsupials embodied fears regarding the quality of the Australian film industry, in its satirical rendering of the monstrous and the Outback. The 10BA tax concessions provided the conditions for genre films to flourish, along with their subtle questioning of the rigid parameters enforced by policy makers in terms of taste, quality, and representations of ‘Australianness’.
 
Howling III: Outback Intrusion
Howling III shares several key features with Razorback, most notably the intrusion of outsiders into rural communities. The film follows Harry Beckmeyer (Barry Otto), an anthropologist continuing his late father’s research on werewolves, believing the death is somehow linked to his work. The intersecting story follows Jerboa (Imogen Annesley) who flees from the rural town of Flow (‘wolf’ spelled backwards) to escape the physical and sexual abuse of her stepfather, Thylo (Max Fairchild), who wishes to marry her. Jerboa is a young female marsupial werewolf; later in the narrative we are told this hybrid resulted from breeding between a human, and the phantom spirit of the Tasmanian wolf (Tasmanian tiger, or Thylacine – a marsupial carnivore).  
 
Jerboa escapes to Sydney, where she quickly meets, falls in love with, and is impregnated by Donny (Lee Biolos), an American working on the set of a horror film. The director quickly hires Jerboa to play the starring role, but at the party for the film’s completion she begins to change into a werewolf after exposure to strobe lights.  In her haste to leave the party, she is hit by a car and taken to hospital. Whilst unconscious the hospital staff discover Jerboa’s unusual metabolism, as well as her marsupial pouch. They also deduce that she is pregnant. Professor Beckmeyer is summoned to the hospital but arrives too late; Jerboa’s sisters have tracked her to the hospital and force her to return to Flow. Unsure of where to search, Beckmeyer and his associate Professor Sharp (Ralph Cotterill) attend the rehearsal of a visiting Russian ballet troupe, where the lead dancer, Olga (Dagmar Blahova), changes into a werewolf onstage. Olga is obsessed with the idea of meeting, and mating with Thylo, Jerboa’s stepfather, but she is captured by the professors, and taken to their lab. Olga escapes and makes her way to Flow to find Thylo, who accepts her as his mate. Meanwhile Jerboa has her baby, and soon after Donny arrives in Flow to meet his child. Beckmeyer and Sharp track Olga to Flow, and meet Kendi (Burnham Burnham), an Indigenous elder who is a mentor to Jerboa and the pack. Alerted by Sharp, armed soldiers arrive at the camp; Jerboa, Donny, and baby escape to the bush, while Beckmeyer manages to convince Olga and Thylo to accompany him to his lab so he can observe them.
 
During experiments with flashing lights that hypnotise Olga and Thylo, Beckmeyer learns the origin of the marsupial species from Thylo; he also learns of the government plans to exterminate all werewolves as they pose a threat to society. Beckmeyer’s growing infatuation with Olga leads him to aid their escape back to Flow, which is now surrounded by police. They find Jerboa, Donny and their baby seeking refuge in the bush; Kendi says he will protect them by summoning the spirit of the great phantom wolf. A rival pack of Indigenous trackers is following the group with the intent to capture them; Kendi, in grease-painted werewolf form, ambushes the trackers, and is fatally wounded. Jerboa and Donny find Kendi and attempt to give him a traditional funeral ceremony; however, the smoke from his cremation alerts the hunters to their location. That evening, Thylo dons traditional grease-paint and also performs the ceremony to invoke the great wolf; he too is killed by the hunters, allowing Beckmeyer and Olga to pursue a relationship. Sharp returns to America to inform the President that Beckmeyer and Olga, along with Jerboa and Donny and their child, have chosen seek refuge in the bush, and live in peace. After several years, Jerboa and Donny leave Flow with their child and move back to the city, pursuing their careers in show business under assumed names. Many years later, Beckmeyer and Olga are informed by Sharp that they have been granted leave to return to the city as well, with no danger of capture. The final scenes show Beckmeyer lecturing at university, where he encounters a familiar young man. It is Jerboa and Donny’s son, Zack. He tells Beckmeyer that his mother is nominated for a prestigious acting award that evening. The film ends with Jerboa on stage accepting her Best Actress award, when the flashing of cameras forces her change into a werewolf on live television.
 
Howling III is not explicitly about the monstrous nature of the human characters, yet it does touch upon some of the themes present within many outback horror films, particularly the idea of intrusion. The consequence of trespass on Indigenous land is a recurring theme in Australian rural horror. For Simpson Australian ‘eco horror’ films are concerned with the ownership of the land, and she notes that the death of tourists and outsiders in the Outback: “… enables the Australian locals to … claim a greater sense of belonging, if only through ‘knowing’ about the dangers in the landscape”. [21]  In the examples cited by Simpson, the Australian locals who espouse expert knowledge are all of white European origin, exposing another deep cultural anxiety around the invasion and dispossession of Indigenous land, and declaration of ‘terra nullius’ (or ‘land belonging to no one’). While the threatened werewolf marsupials of Flow are seemingly all of white European origin, the trespass and attempted capture of the werewolves by police comes to ‘stand in’ for the trespass of white Australians upon Indigenous lands. The intrusion upon Indigenous land is mentioned parenthetically, through the sacred relationship between Kendi, and spirit of the Thylacine in the film’s climax, which references Indigenous storytelling and legends of the Dreamtime. Howling III: The Marsupials manages to simultaneously operate within the generic framework of eco horror; represent the sacred rituals and relationship between Australian Indigenous people, animals and the land; and allude to the continued impasse of how Indigenous customs might be reconciled with contemporary Australian culture.
 
Rural or natural eco horror films featuring monstrous creatures are typical within the canon of cult film, but remarkably, the films discussed here have not routinely been described as Australian ‘cult’. This omission is curious for a number of reasons, however it is closely linked to ongoing policy discussions regarding the purpose of the Australian film industry, government funding, quality and taste. Laseur has observed that the pleasure of Howling III: “…may well be precisely situated in the recognition of its satirical parody of a pompous high cultural (bourgeois) set of aesthetic proclamations. The notion of intentional B-gradeness is often overlooked by critics and reviewers”. [22]  So whilst audiences seemed to be ‘critical insiders’ [23] for whom the film’s parody and ‘intentional badness’ increases the enjoyment, Australian funding bodies ignored these factors and interpreted genre films as exploitative for the generous tax concessions they received. As a result of industry backlash against the lack of ‘quality’ films being produced, by the end of the 1980s the 10BA tax scheme began to be wound back. As Ryan notes, the finance ceiling resulting from the Australian government again becoming the principal source of funding for film prohibited the production of more expensive genres such as action, fantasy, and science fiction. [24] The reversal of the 10BA tax concessions meant that Australia fell back into what I term ‘safe default mode’ – funding a small range of films intended to be what Dermody and Jacka [25] labelled the cultural flagships of the nation, rather than taking a chance on unknown new directors or popular entertainment genres. This has been the story of the Australian film industry since the 1970’s, and as such has resulted in an industry that exists in a perpetual state of boom or bust. [26]
 
‘Quality’, genre, and Ozploitation
Arguments regarding the ‘quality’ of Australian genre films produced in this era are the key concern of Hartley’s documentary, Not Quite Hollywood. Until the documentary’s release many Australians were unaware of the nation’s tradition of genre film making, and the documentary “… has become a phenomenon, reviving, or perhaps creating, worldwide interest in a largely forgotten and unacknowledged filmmaking culture.” [27] This documentary received extensive publicity for featuring interviews with Quentin Tarantino proclaiming his love for Australian film, as he had also done during the promotional tour for Kill Bill (2003). On that tour, Tarantino named Brian Trenchard-Smith as one of his favourite directors: “… before being surprised to learn he is not exactly a household name here”.  [28] He also named Patrick (1978) director Richard Franklin as a favourite, and admitted that the spitting scene in Kill Bill was a direct reference to the film. This anecdote, illustrating Australians’ lack of appreciation for their own films (until praised by a Hollywood director) speaks to the level of ‘cultural cringe’ still apparent towards Australian films. Arthur Angel Phillips first coined the term ‘cultural cringe’ in the 1950 essay of the same name. The essay described ‘cultural cringe’ as “… the tendency of Australians to be embarrassed by their own artistic endeavours, and to feel that any work by Americans and the British is automatically superior to anything we can do”. [29] As cult films also attract a ‘cringe’ of sorts, an unexpected link can be made between Australian films and examples of cult film. Thus, cultural cringe connects the hostile reception towards Ozploitation films (including Razorback and The Howling) for their apparent lack of quality, with ongoing anxieties about Australian films being viewed as inferior, monstrous, or ‘Other’.
 
Based on the assumptions raised in Not Quite Hollywood regarding Ozploitation, and my own qualitative research, [30] I believe there is an opportunity to rearticulate Australian genre films as ‘cult’ for both their aesthetic qualities, and limited following amongst enthusiasts. Interviews with organisers of cult events in Australia reveal unexpected insights about how genre films fit into the national tradition. Cult film organisers suggested that since the release of Not Quite Hollywood enabled increased audience awareness, and access (due to the re-release of many of the featured films on DVD), Australian genre films such as Turkey Shoot (1981) and Dead End Drive In (1986) could be elevated to the level of ‘cult film’. They also highlighted the fact that even so-called ‘mainstream’ Australian films often have B-grade scripts and production values, despite the preoccupation of policy makers with ‘quality’. Not Quite Hollywood demonstrates the strong similarity between Australian genre films made during the 1970s – 1980s and the aesthetic qualities often attributed to cult films. The re- release of the films featured in Not Quite Hollywood offers Australian genre films the opportunity to gain the audience following essential to creating a cult film.
 
By reading Australian films as cult texts, the official history of Australian cinema and its deliberate exclusion of genre films can be scrutinised. Reflecting upon the poor record of Australian films at domestic cinemas in 2008, President of the Screen Producers Association (and key figure in the Ozploitation movement) Antony Ginnane, stated that “Australian filmmakers don’t deserve government funding while they continue to churn out movies no one wants to see”. [31] Ginnane’s opinion is clearly informed by his stated commitment to genre cinema as entertainment, as he observes:

This rewriting of history completely disregarded the significant financial success of films like Patrick, Harlequin (1980) and Turkey Shoot in the international and US markets, let alone the roller coaster mega achievements of the Mad Max trilogy. [32]

Qualitative research carried out with Australian audiences proves that their relationship with national cinema is more complicated than policy makers, or the press attest. Whilst audiences wish to support Australian cinema, they often feel a strong sense of cultural cringe when it comes to mainstream Australian films, and the constant reproduction of national stereotypes. They suggest establishing a tradition of regularly screening Australian genre films as midnight movies in order to build a following, but more importantly, a sense of affection for Australian films.  It is apparent that a major restructuring of film funding in Australia, to support several distinct types of film is necessary for the diversification and growth of multiple forms of filmic expression. This is a view supported by academics such as Verhoeven who states that “… it is not just anecdotal evidence that suggests Australian cinema has a ‘brand’ problem” [33]; therefore, the way that policy makers consider the function of national cinema in relation to the projects they fund, requires reconsideration if it is to meet its stated aims of representing the nation on screen.
 
More recently, the reception of Wolf Creek in the Australian press illustrates our ongoing discomfort when facing monsters residing in the dark heart of the Outback. The backlash from the media was swift.  Conservative commentators made strong renunciations of the portrayal of graphic violence and disturbing themes, with claims that the film would reduce tourist numbers because of its frightening and realistic content; proclamations such as “(t)he film does for the area what Jaws did for the water - you'll never want to get into it again” were common. [34] The moral panic over the fictionalisation of some of the most horrific disappearances and murders in Australian history was refuted by Ryan and Blackwood. [35], as well as local tourist operators who commented on the increase in visitors to the Wolfe Creek Crater in the lead up to the release of Wolf Creek 2 (2014). Blackwood (2014) believes this increase is because films with a ‘negative’ storyline often attract young people out of a sense of adventure and fun; particularly those who, in this case would be likely to go backpacking to central Australia.
 
Ryan states that “Australian cinema has experienced a mini genre renaissance in recent years” with substantial growth in genre films, particularly horror titles being produced during the period of his research (2000- 2008). [36] It is clear that there is a niche market interest in genre (particularly horror) films in Australia, but the primary consumers of these films are abroad – where cultural cringe is not a barrier to possible success. An examination of Australian horror film The Babadook (2014) supports the hypothesis that a lack of support for genre films not only by funding bodies, but also by the unwillingness of large cinema chains to take a risk, severely impedes the likelihood of domestic box office success. The Babadook was initially screened at the Sundance film festival in 2014 where it received an enthusiastic reception. However, the release strategy in Australia accentuates the inadequacy of funding for effective marketing campaigns, but more significantly the idea of cultural cringe for Australian made genre films. In Australia the film was released to only 13 screens nationwide, as local multiplexes decided the film was too ‘art house’ for the big screen; in comparison, it was released on 147 screens across the UK, and earned the same amount on its opening weekend as its entire Australian theatrical run. The film has also made more money in Thailand and France than at home and due to word of mouth spread, an increasing ‘cult’ following can be observed online. [37] The film’s cult following has flourished in the online space, with the emergence of the Babadook character as an icon of the LGBTI community at Pride parades across the United States in 2017. Ongoing film inspired ‘Babadiscourse’ on Tumblr about the character’s sexuality, and the appearance of the film in the ‘LGBT interest’ category on US Netflix [38] has been attributed with the creation of a second life for the iconic character.  Films such as The Babadook are turning away from traditional strategies centring on a theatrical release and maximising their potential reach by accessing Video on Demand as an alternative mode of distribution. It is clear that talent exists within Australia for creating genre films (particularly horror) with commercial appeal –by mobilising appropriate financial resources, supporting genre films provides a pathway for the Australian film industry to increase audience appeal in both the domestic and international market.

Conclusion
While horror films like Razorback and Howling III: The Marsupials are typical within the canon of exploitation or cult film, Australian films are rarely described in these terms. Although the spectacle of the monstrous remains at the forefront of these narratives, the underlying issues of rural excess at the heart of earlier Australian Gothic films remains. Despite the emergence of the term Ozploitation to describe Australian genre films of the 1970s and 1980s, the term ‘Australian cult film’ is invisible from discussions of the industry at large. Ozploitation, and more recent genre films such as Wolf Creek force audiences to confront unsavoury aspects of the national character through the metaphor of outback monsters, both human and animal – that official film bodies would rather remain invisible. Thus the absence of the term ‘Australian cult film’ from the discourse on Australian cinema is indicative of the anxiety surrounding the film industry regarding quality, nationalism and cultural cringe. In conclusion, I propose a multi-pronged approach in order to restructure the Australian film industry and foster diversity amongst productions; firstly, the reclamation of these films as a source of pride rather than shame. Thomas has spoken of how Ozploitation has been mobilised as a marketing term to promote a wide range of genre films from the 10BA era.  [39] Cinematic pride could be encouraged with regular public screenings of Australian genre films to build a cult following, a trend which occurred to a limited extent following the DVD re-release of films featured in Not Quite Hollywood. Secondly, funding films via differing steams is essential in order to build a robust film culture; instead of funding films only with ‘significant Australian content’ we must support diverse styles of film, particularly genre films with commercial appeal. Further research with both international and Australian (cult) audiences is essential in order to understand the reception of Australian genre films, so support for future films can be better assessed and mobilised. A deeper understanding of the appeal of genre films for audience could assist in reconfiguring financial distribution away from a fear-based policy of protectionism towards so called ‘Australian values’. The revision of funding policy in tune with audience trends, and the popularity of genre films worldwide could increase the visibility of our own monsters and in turn, our own cult films.

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Footnotes

1. Scott, J. and Biron, D. (2010) “Wolf Creek, rurality and the Australian gothic”. Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies. 24: 2, 307-322.
2. Rayner, J. (2000) Contemporary Australian Cinema: An Introduction. Manchester: Manchester University Press. 
3. Schaefer, E. (1999) Bold! Daring! Shocking! True!: A History of Exploitation Films, 1919-1959. Durham: Duke University Press.
4. Ryan, M. D. (2010) “Towards an understanding of Australian genre cinema and entertainment: beyond the limitations of ‘Ozploitation’ discourse”. Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies. 24 (6): 1-14. 6-7.
5. Gibson, R. (1994) “Formative Landscapes”, in Murray, S. (ed.) Australian Cinema. St. Leonards: Australian Film Commission/ Allen and Unwin. 45-61. 50.
6. Gibson, 50.
7. Turner, G. (1993) National Fictions: Literature, Film and the Construction of the Australian Narrative. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 22.
8. Scott, M. (2009) “Film (1971)”. South China Morning Post. Available at: https://web.archive.org/web/20151005061809/https://www.scmp.com/print/article/701747/film-1971 (accessed 27/8/17).
9. Rayner, 27.
10. Rayner, 29.
11. Burton, A. (2014) “Wake in Fright”. World Cinema Guide. Available At: https://web.archive.org/web/20161105110232/https://www.worldcinemaguide.com/masters-of-cinema-wake-in-fright/ (Accessed 28/8/17).2.
12. Burton, 2.
13. Grant, B.K. “Science Fiction  Double Feature”, in J.PTelotte (ed) The Cult Film: Beyond all Reason,1991. 124.
14. Laseur, C. (1992) “Australian Exploitation film: the politics of bad taste. Continuum: The Australian Journal of Media and Culture. 5: 2. 1-7. 1.
15. Laseur,  6.
16. Screen Australia (2009) “Significant Australian Content”. Available at:
    https://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/getmedia/86791e04-29f4-492b-956a-adb3bc1b7016/sac_guidance.pdf (accessed 19/5/15).
17. Burns, A. and Eltham, B. (2010) “Boom and Bust in Australian Screen Policy: 10BA, The Film Finance Corporation and Hollywood’s ‘Race to the Bottom’”. Media International Australia. No. 136, August 2010. 103-118. 105.
18. Stratton, D. (1990) The Avocado Plantation: Boom and Bust In The Australian Film Industry. Sydney: Pan MacMillan.
19. Adams, Not Quite Hollywood, 2008
20. Jacka, E. (1988) “Financing Australian Films”. In Dermody, S. and Jacka, E. (eds) The Imaginary Industry: Australian Film in the late 80s. North Ryde: AFTRS. 13.
21. Simpson, C. (2010) “Australian eco-horror and Gaia’s revenge: animals, eco-Nationalism and the ‘new nature’”. Studies in Australasian Cinema. 4: 1, 43-54. 47.
22. Laseur, 4.
23. Hodkinson, P. (2002) Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture. Oxford: Berg.
24. Ryan, M. D. (2012) “A silver bullet for Australian cinema? Genre movies and the audience debate”. Studies in Australasian Cinema. 6:2, 141-157.146.
25. Dermody, S. and Jacka, E. (1987) The Screening of Australia, Volume 2. Sydney: Currency Press.
26. Stratton, 1990.
27. Ryan, 2010, 8.
28. Maddox, G. (2003) “The master’s schlock therapy can revive forgotten classics”. Sydney Morning Herald. www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/10/21/1066631431735.html (accessed 20/6/13).
29. Dale, D. (2012) “The year of the cringe in Australian film”. Available At:
    www.smh.com.au/federal-politics/society-and-culture/blogs/the-tribal-mind/the-year-of-the-cringe-in-australian-film-201212229-2c0cl.html (accessed 1/5/13).
30. Middlemost, R. (2013) “Amongst Friends: The Australian Cult Film Experience”. PhD Thesis: University of Wollongong, Australia.
31. Anon, (2008) “Aussie Films: ‘nobody goes to see them’”. Sydney Morning Herald. Available at:
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