Okay, I admit it. When Lawrence asked me to review some 'indie horror from New Zealand,' visions of dog-eating mothers, smack-shooting puppets and lawnmowers danced through my head. But after watching The Locals, I realized how arrogant I had been. Writer/director Greg Page is not writer/director Peter Jackson. While Jackson's early movies are comedies (comedies full of bodily fluids and zombies and sodomy, but comedies nonetheless), Page's debut is a straight-up horror film that doesn't take itself too seriously.

Grant (John Barker) doesn¹t like Lord of the Rings. That¹s why his girlfriend dumped him and why he¹s fast asleep, even though he should be packed and ready for a just-mates surfing trip with his friend, Paul: ³I can¹t do this weekend, bro,² he says. But Paul the human pinball (Dwayne Cameron) won¹t put up with this crap. He bursts into Grant¹s room, packs his bags and drives him into the countryside because Grant is going to have some therapeutic fun this weekend, goddamn it.

The kidnapping-slash-vacation is the boys¹ first mistake. Their second is taking a shortcut, and their third is flirting with a couple of girls on their way to a party.

For those who¹ve seen Murphy¹s Law at work in movies like this, The Locals has a comforting familiarity, an almost warm-and-fuzziness. The car ends up in a ditch. The boys go to a farmhouse for help, only to witness a murder. They try to call the cops on Grant¹s cell phone, but there¹s no signal. They get chased by a posse of backwoods yahoos. They split up. They hide in grass. And when we are nice and complacent, someone pulls the rug out from under us, bitchslaps us while we¹re down and takes our lunch money.

For one thing, that someone stops letting us see. There¹s light, but it¹s all focused on one target: a house, a person, a very scary tree. That target stands alone in a black abyss, like the disembodied head of someone with a flashlight under his chin. At other times, we¹re forced to see through windows or grates in meat lockers. We are unable to know how anything--items or events--relates to anything else, and so cannot piece together what is actually happening. We know there¹s a party, a murder, a crazy farmer with a shotgun, a grave in a field somewhere, and a (very impressive) car fire, but we have no clue what they mean.

When the movie finally answered my questions (Are the locals lunatics? Zombies? Part of a living history museum with its own gift shop and photo booth?), I felt like an idiot--and that¹s a good thing. While the locals¹ secret isn¹t exactly something that¹s never been done before, it hasn¹t been done quite like this and makes perfect sense. I thought ³Oh, of course!² rather than ³What the hell?² And the ending is downright poignant; it almost made me misty-eyed.

Ultimately, the awful ³vacation² ends up doing what it was supposed to do: it brings two grammar-school chums closer together. Grant and Paul are boys in men¹s bodies, and leads Barker and Cameron portray their innocence well. (In Barker¹s case that innocence is particularly wide-eyed, in a Bruce Campbell sort of way). Dwayne Cameron¹s energy is fun to watch, mimicking (and contributing to) the film¹s frenetic pace. But by the time the credits roll, the boys aren¹t boys anymore. If Shaun of the Dead is a romantic comedy with zombies, The Locals is a coming-of-age story with creepy farmers. And open graves.

As a virgin indie film, The Locals doesn¹t have many extras. But what¹s here is good stuff, indeed. Aside from the obligatory trailer, there¹s a behind-the-scenes featurette and an audio commentary with writer/director Greg Page. He¹s very well-spoken and sees humor in what was really a damn lot of work. Picture and sound were adequate, though I wish Anchor Bay had provided a subtitle option. The actors¹ Kiwi accents are sometimes hard to decipher, especially when they¹re whispering ominously.

The Locals didn¹t blow me away the first time I saw it, but I liked it. Then I saw it again, and liked it some more. I¹m glad Anchor Bay has released it to us North Americans, and anxious to see what Greg Page and company will do with more time, and possibly, more money. If people borrow my copy of The Locals, they¹d better give it back. They can do whatever they want with Possessed (review here), however.