Alright, fellow tapeheads, let’s rewind to a time when the lurid promises on a worn VHS cover often delivered exactly what you craved on a Friday night. Dig past the mainstream hits in that imaginary rental store aisle, nudge aside the slightly chewed-up copy of Top Gun, and pull out a tape that practically radiates chaotic energy. Maybe it was called Escape 2000 in your region, maybe even the notoriously provocative Blood Camp Thatcher if you were across the pond. But for many of us down under and cult connoisseurs worldwide, it’s Brian Trenchard-Smith’s 1982 slice of Ozploitation insanity: Turkey Shoot.
### Welcome to Camp Deviant Control
Forget subtle dystopias. Turkey Shoot throws subtlety out the window, stomps on it with muddy boots, and then sets it on fire. The setup is pure pulp: in a vaguely defined oppressive future (the year is 1995!), "social deviants" are shipped off to brutal re-education camps. Our unfortunate protagonists are Paul Anders (Steve Railsback, bringing that signature intensity he honed in films like The Stunt Man), Chris Walters (Olivia Hussey, a world away from her iconic Juliet), and Rita Daniels (Lynda Stoner). They quickly discover this isn't about rehabilitation; it's about survival against the sadistic Camp Commandant Thatcher (Michael Craig, chewing scenery with glorious abandon) and his cadre of privileged, bored elites who hunt inmates for sport.
Yes, it's The Most Dangerous Game cranked up to eleven, filtered through a distinct Aussie sensibility for larrikin mayhem and anti-authoritarian glee. The script, penned by Jon George and Neill D. Hicks, doesn't waste time on nuance. It establishes the stakes – obey or be hunted – and then gleefully dives headfirst into the promised carnage. Remember how straightforward plots like this felt almost refreshing on VHS? No complex lore, just pure, unadulterated chase and confrontation.
### Trenchard-Smith Unleashed: Practical Mayhem Done Right
This is where Turkey Shoot truly earns its cult stripes. Brian Trenchard-Smith, a legend in the Ozploitation world (The Man from Hong Kong, Dead End Drive-In), was a master of getting maximum bang for his buck. Working with a reported budget of around AUD $3.2 million – which sounds like a lot until you see the sheer scale of the action he attempts – he orchestrates a symphony of raw, physical spectacle. Forget slick CGI; this is the era of real explosions, real fire, and stunt performers earning every cent of their danger pay.
The action feels impactful precisely because it’s grounded in practical effects. When a vehicle flips, you know a stunt driver risked their neck. When huts explode, that’s real debris flying. The gunfights, complete with gloriously excessive squib work, have that visceral, almost shocking quality that was so prevalent before digital blood spray became the norm. Wasn't there something undeniably thrilling about seeing those hits land with such messy, theatrical force back then? A key bit of trivia: Trenchard-Smith was known for meticulous planning to ensure safety despite the apparent chaos, a testament to his craft amidst the low-budget pressures. Filming near Cairns in tropical North Queensland provided a suitably sweaty, oppressive backdrop that feels genuinely remote and inescapable.
The villains get increasingly outlandish weapons, from modified dune buggies to crossbows firing explosive bolts (because why not?). And who could forget the bizarre, almost carnival-esque supporting hunters like Tito (Michael Petrovitch) with his brute strength and Secretary Mallory (Carmen Duncan) with her icy cruelty? It all contributes to a feeling of escalating, surreal danger.
### That Certain Kind of 80s Performance
The acting is pitched perfectly to the material. Steve Railsback is coiled tension personified, his Paul Anders a simmering pot of rebellion waiting to boil over. Olivia Hussey, despite reportedly being taken aback by the on-set violence, lends a touch of class and vulnerability that makes the brutality land harder. It's fascinating to see the star of Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet (1968) navigate such exploitative territory. Michael Craig is simply magnificent as Thatcher, delivering lines like "I'm the ringmaster in this circus of fear!" with utter conviction. He embodies the cartoonish evil the film requires.
And then there’s… Alph (Steve Rackman, later known as Donk in Crocodile Dundee), the camp's bizarre, fur-clad wildman tracker. Let's be honest, the Alph character is pure B-movie weirdness, a slightly baffling element that somehow fits the film's 'anything goes' attitude. His final confrontation is peak Ozploitation strangeness.
### A Video Nasty Makes Good (Sort Of)
Critically? Turkey Shoot got savaged in its homeland upon release. It was deemed too violent, too crass, too… well, exploitative. But internationally, particularly on home video, it found its audience. That lurid cover art and promise of action drew renters in, and the sheer audacity of the film kept them watching. Its inclusion on the infamous UK "video nasty" list only cemented its cult status among horror and action fans seeking forbidden thrills. Finding this tape felt like uncovering a secret handshake into a wilder side of cinema. Modern action might be smoother, but it rarely matches Turkey Shoot's sheer, unhinged energy.
It’s a film that knows exactly what it is: a loud, violent, often ridiculous slice of dystopian action designed to entertain through sheer spectacle. It’s not high art, but it is high-octane B-movie filmmaking executed with considerable technical skill and a palpable sense of anarchic fun by Trenchard-Smith.
VHS Heaven Rating: 7/10
Justification: While the plot is thin and the tone wildly uneven (veering from grim survival to almost slapstick violence), Turkey Shoot delivers non-stop, inventive practical action sequences typical of the best Ozploitation. Brian Trenchard-Smith's direction is energetic, the villains are memorable, and the sheer audacity earns it major points. It loses marks for some questionable moments and overall narrative simplicity, but as a piece of raw, unfiltered 80s action VHS fodder, it hits the target.
Final Thought: Turkey Shoot is a glorious relic from an era when action movies felt genuinely dangerous, slightly unhinged, and were best enjoyed with the tracking slightly off on your old CRT. It’s crude, it’s loud, but damn, is it ever alive.