Warning, because “adult themes” doesn’t quite cover it: if you’ve had issues with anxiety or panic attacks set off by violence (including gun violence, child abuse, self-harm and suicide) drug/alcohol abuse or apocalypse scenarios, this movie might freak you out a bit. Just… heads up, I guess. Stay safe.
It’s the end of the world and there’s nothing we can do about it. James, the muscly white stubble-bearing bloke we have as a protagonist, has exactly zero chance of saving the world or anyone he loves.
When Australians are faced with fucked-up situations, as a nation, we drink our feelings. We down our fears with a couple of pingers, punch strangers, and let our drunk mates tattoo wobbly Southern Crosses on us with a tattoo gun they got off eBay. And that’s what James, initially, decides to do.
But despite the actual apocalypse, despite the complete disappearance of all responsible adults and the sudden advent of rage-zombie-meth-heads and a seemingly endless torrent of verbal and physical abuse from men and women alike, old mate Jimmy runs away from his shitty coping mechanisms and toward a nurturing, protective kind of masculinity that is increasingly rare nowadays.
He doesn’t like it. He’s just as scared and outraged and sweaty as everyone else. But he decides to stand up for what’s right, even though there’s probably no point and everything is fucked anyway.
What a mad cunt.