The Hunter is a film that has all elements I normally like: exotic zoology, faceless big bad corporation, emotionally repressed killer who finds love and family, mystery, and Sam Neill’s real accent. And yet? It doesn’t work. It almost works. But almost in a film like this is enough to make it seem like a worse movie than it is. That being said, I’m planning on reading the novel (by Julia Leigh), as I feel that many of my complaints (emotionally odd reactions, lack of internal motivations, etc.) are resolved naturally in a novel.
Still, Willem Defoe is excellent as always and the scenery is beautiful. I just wish it had been either louder or quieter or slower or faster or, like the Tasmanian Tiger it focuses on, made of somewhat incongruous parts that are beautiful when put together.