Since its 1992 release, Romper Stomper has been a film I’ve mostly avoided—and not without reason. I remember the outrage clearly: anti-fascist groups picketing cinemas, warning it could ‘give confidence to Nazis in Britain.’ Some argued it didn’t condemn the violence—it crowned the Nazis as the heroes. Grimly, those concerns proved valid. Zahid Mubarek’s murder by a racist psychopath who’d just watched the film still casts a long shadow.
It’s often lumped in with This is England, but the comparison only goes skin-deep. Meadows offers consequence and growth; Romper Stomper offers carnage and not much else. Is it a good film? Not particularly. It’s gritty, sure, but emotionally vacant. Russell Crowe’s Hando isn’t half as magnetic as he thinks he is (though there’s definitely some sweaty homoerotic tension). Jacqueline McKenzie shines, but her arc only exists when men are nearby. Brutal, loud, and shallow—more posture than point.
This is a brutal account of the rise of neo-nazism in a group of Australian skin heads whose hatred of oriental immigrants escalates to fever pitch. The acting is convincing, the plot real but just too brutally bleak and callously angry to be enjoyed. This is one to watch if you want to stress up to boiling point. Not remotely escapist.