Roadkill (2022)

Director Alexander Whitrow brings forth an outback noir that manages to feel tense and intimate while providing a scope that fits the environment. Roadkill is not a perfect film but offers a compelling evocative exploration of a relationship torn apart by past and present trauma.

Modern-day highwayman Connor Shelby (Alexander Whitrow) spends his days waiting along the isolated roads and robs his unsuspecting victims to make enough money to start a new life with the love of his life Lucy Miller (Sarah Milde). But when he accidentally comes face-to-face with a serial killer – who violently moves from town-to-town executing those he believes to be ‘sinful’ – he gets caught in the crossfire of an ongoing police investigation…

When the brutal killer claims his next victim – Connor’s life is about to change forever. He decides to hunt down the killer to get redemption, justice and revenge…

Whitrow’s direction while hardly innovative manages to capture the solitary nature of both the outback and a life of crime. Whitrow also brings a tenderness to the small time crook that stops just short of making Shelby sympathetic. He is entirely believable as an adult struggling to provide for himself while grappling with his childhood trauma. Although initially I thought to myself that his living as a highwayman feels like a lot of work and risk for little actual reward. Like, my man, working hard for a life of crime seems counterintuitive. Find some more lucrative laws to break.

Milde has very little to work with regarding screentime and character development but functions well as the sweet love interest that changes Shelby’s life. The entire movie would fall apart if the killer wasn’t convincing. Edward Boyd billed only as ‘the killer’ brings a creepiness to the roll as someone who believes himself to be one of the horsemen of the apocalypse. For all intents and purposes he very well could be and his introduction into the story always brings chaos and violence.

Roadkill clearly is working to tap into some of the road thriller tropes that have dominated this space in the past. The Vanishing continues to be a personal favorite and I would not be surprised if it was one of Whitrow’s as well. The solitary infinite space of the highway is the perfect place to get lost or to find yourself. There is a tenderness to the way this movie is shot. We alternate between ugly, bleak browns that accentuate just how harsh the environment can be and beautiful sunsets that utilize the same color palette. There is a beauty in that harshness and in that way the Australian outback reflects Shelby as a character.

It is clear that Whitrow values authenticity. Moreover Roadkill is a movie that celebrates the region. At one point one of the characters tells the other that he is “a true blue bloody bushmen”. The phrase is not said tongue in cheek or meant to poke fun at member of a tribe that Whitrow is not a part of. Rather the phrase and the delicate nature of the characters provides us even more context into the film. Shelby’s life is not easy, but as someone who make his life on the fringe there is a simple pride in just surviving the elements that clearly come through in the film. In that way the movie connected with my own midwestern roots.

Roadkill does not break any new ground but as a first feature it does work quite well as a proof of concept. Whitrow knows exactly what he is doing and offers a unique viewpoint that competently plays all of the notes of a solid thriller. Its sound design is pretty basic and its story pretty routine but I expect big things to come from Whitrow as he grows as a director. If Roadkill is any harbinger Whitrow should get lots of work. Outback noir as a subgenre may be here to stay.

Roadkill came out last week and is now available on digital and video on demand.