- by Graham Holton
- The Guardian
- Issue #2172
While it participates in global trends, the future of Australian horror is local yet universally terrifying. It is moving away from simply imitating American or European models and is instead forging an identity based on sophisticated psychological exploration. It is creating unique hybrids that feel fresh and specifically Aussie.
The dominance of “Land Horror” and Ecological Terror is the most powerful and defining trend at present. The Australian landscape (ancient, vast, and indifferent) is the primary antagonist. Horror films from the US often bring evil into a safe suburban space, but Australian horror suggests the land was always hostile. The fear is not just of creatures in the landscape, but of the landscape itself: the isolation, the harsh climate, the sheer scale of the continent. The terror of the domestic landscape is seen in The Babadook. Historical trauma is embedded in the Tasmanian wilderness in The Nightingale, and the Outback as a post-apocalyptic wasteland is seen in Cargo. The family home as a decaying, monstrous entity is in Relic.
The future will see more stories that tap into specific, terrifying Australian environments: the dense, claustrophobic Daintree rainforests; the bleak, salt-caked Nullarbor Plain; and the sprawling, red desert interior. Climate change anxiety will fuel stories of vengeful nature, ancient ecosystems turning against invaders, and new “eco-horrors” unique to the continent.
Reckoning with colonial history and Indigenous folklore is taking the most significant and culturally specific direction. Australian horror is becoming a powerful vehicle for confronting the nation’s violent colonial past and integrating the world’s oldest living culture.
Recently, some of the most exciting developments in Australia are projects led by Indigenous filmmakers, directly addressing the genocide, displacement, and ongoing trauma inflicted upon First Nations peoples. There’s a growing movement to tell stories using Indigenous creators and perspectives, bringing authentic Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander mythology to the screen. The Nightingale is a brutal, unflinching look at colonial violence. The Dark Side of the Moon (short film) and The New Boy touch on these themes. We will see a boom based on authentic “Dreamtime” stories and malevolent spirits like the Bunyip, Yowie, or Mimi. Rather than just using the monster because they need a monster, these films also explore the cultural rules and warnings these stories embody. They will raise the question of who “belongs” on the land and who is the “monster.”
Following the global “elevated horror” trend is the rise of the “Aussie arthouse horror,” with a distinctly Australian sensibility. These films use the genre to explore profound themes of grief, family, and mental illness. They are character-driven, atmospheric, and psychologically complex, often slow-burns that prioritise dread over gore, using horror as a metaphor for internal turmoil.
In The Babadook it is grief and motherhood. In Relic it is dementia and the horror of inherited trauma, and in Celia it is a child’s perspective on political and social hysteria. This will continue to be Australia’s flagship on the international festival circuit. There will be more deeply personal, auteur-driven horror films that use the genre’s tools to dissect the Australian psyche, from suburban malaise to the “larrikin” facade cracking under pressure.
Australian filmmakers are brilliantly mashing horror with other classic Aussie genres, creating something fresh and unpredictable. One potent hybrid is the horror-western, with the Outback a perfect stand-in for the mythical, lawless American West, but with its own unique history and monsters. This is seen in The Rover, a dystopian thriller with strong horror elements, and in Cargo, it is a zombie apocalypse in the Outback. The excellent film The Bloody Hell (2021) is a perfect example of a heist-gone-wrong comedy-thriller that descends into backwoods horror. There will be more Outback Noirs with supernatural twists, survival horror that feels like Wake in Fright meets The Hills Have Eyes, and horror-comedies that leverage the unique, dry Aussie sense of humour.
While the outback is a powerful symbol, modern Australia also encounters fear in its large cities. Horror reflects the intense pressure of modern urban life: unaffordable housing, social isolation, and the dark side of the “Australian dream.” Relic uses the family home as a direct metaphor for the terror of generational debt and decay. Talk to Me explores suburban teen ennui and the desperate search for connection through a terrifying new social media-like trend. Future horror films will almost certainly centre on housing insecurity (the “haunted” investment property), immigrant experiences in multicultural suburbs, and the psychological toll of the “lucky country’s” intense economic pressures.
