Between the Fast and Furious of Mad Max films and the non-stop party of These Final Hours, I’ve been conditioned to believe that the Australian apocalypse would be one wild ride. What’s with this depressing zombie crap? C’mon, knock it off already; any minute now you’re gonna show me mild-mannered Martin Freeman pushed to the brink and flooring a souped-up Camaro with a shotgun in his right and a machete in his teeth while the baby laps it up from her car seat, right? Right?!
Oh, well. I guess this is ok, too.
Martin Freeman always looks like that guy you’re gonna push around, huh? I loathe bullies, naturally siding with gentler folk in almost all cases, and yet even I find myself saying, “Geez, Martin, grow a pair” from time-to-time. By luck of the draw, it would seem, Andy (Freeman), his wife Kay (Susie Porter), and their infant daughter have survived the zombie apocalypse. They don’t strike anybody as necessarily savvy, ruthless, or intuitive, so I’m chalking it up to luck. They’ve also commandeered a houseboat which probably helps keep the zombies at bay. I don’t know the rules for swimming zombies, but I do now wonder what zombies drink. Water? Tang? Zombieade? After all, ya gotta replace the electrolytes lost from multiple gunshot wounds.
Andy spies a family on shore. He gives a friendly wave which is returned with a sneer and a weapon reveal. This sets the every-living-creature-for-himself tone immediately. We already know that at some point this film will almost certainly devolve into an Aussie revival of “Andy Get Your Gun.” Kay pushes her luck with an abandoned yacht and gets bitten. In 48 hours, she will turn. Andy refuses to set her free and, of course, gets Kay’s zombie-making bite; now he has just about 48 hours to find a home for his infant child. Well, gosh, this has become a nifty little combination of thrilling and depressing.
I’ll stop there, plot-wise. You should know by now whether or not you want to see this film. Just know that if you’re 
looking for the outback death derby as seen in many an Australian apocalypse film, you will be sorely disappointed. While we would surely dig the Martin Freeman version of Road Warrior, it’s not happening. If, on the other hand, you’ve come to find quiet nobility in the face of evil, you might just be pleased by this choice.
Before this film, all I had to associate Cargo with Australia was an uneven and mildly disappointing Men at Work album. I think the title pertains to the infant being carted around zombie country, but it could refer to the unwieldy metaphorical milquetoastiness Martin Freemen schleps around on a daily basis. I can’t be sure. What I can be sure of is Cargo is a strangely touching film for the subject matter. There isn’t a whole lot to the film, but what’s there may prove moving … even without the nitrus-infused hemis and double v-necked flaming guitars. Maybe next apocalypse.
In a world where you kill, maim, or rob it
The undead have made humans their gobbet
Embarrassment pinnacle
From sincere to cynical
“I’ve been blown away by The Hobbit.”
Not Rated, 105 Minutes
Director: Ben Howling, Yolanda Ramke
Writer: Yolanda Ramke
Genre: Our screwed future
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Those patiently awaiting the Aboriginal world takeover
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: The undead
