depressing apocalyptic movie on the surface, deep psychological study of Anglo-Saxon race on one level and glorious insight into the degradation of Australian public transport at the bottom.
"Electric Trains" from Melbourne to Frankston at the age of drunken aussie girls on fast horse-driven carts competng with a few Ferraris (supposedly 1964) used to take 3/4 of an hour.
Now it is an hour if you are lucky. Yesterday it was more then two hours with one train giving up the ghost between Southern Cross and Flinders and another crawling like a rheumatic snake from Flinders to Seaford - and this was not even Frankston yet. Endless insult... Humiliation! Stench! Every corner is pissed upon!
Well, at least sitting in front of our 50-inch plasmas we can dream of Gregory Peck hero his smart white uniform dying in his puke and excrements caused by radiation poisoning somewhere out of camera reach. Some imaginary consolation, I suppose.