How lambs finally broke their silence

THANKS to director Peter Jackson, a native of New Zealand's North Island, the ruggedly beautiful country known as Aotearoa by the Maori has become synonymous with hobbits, marauding orcs and the technical wizardry of the Oscar-winning Weta Workshop.

A far cry, indeed, from the green and pleasant land where sheep outnumber humans by more than 10 to one.

In his early films such as Bad Taste and the cult favourite Braindead, Jackson married low budget invention with twisted humour and lashings of gore.

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Writer-director Jonathan King attempts to recapture the spirit of those anarchic splatter classics in Black Sheep, a tongue-in-cheek romp putting a ghoulish spin on ’ram-raiding’, which plunges six unsuspecting characters into the midst of an ovine invasion.

The lambs have been silent for far too long, and now their bleating mad ... for human blood! Fifteen years after an unfortunate incident which understandably crystallised an irrational fear of sheep and condemned him to years of therapy, Henry Oldfield (Nathan Meister) returns to his family’s farm to sign over his share to older brother Angus (Peter Feeney).

The vast property has barely changed, still overrun with hordes of woolly little devils that bring poor Henry out in a cold sweat. And with good reason, because Angus has secretly converted the farm into a testing facility to genetically engineer the perfect, cloven-hoofed livestock.

On the day when Angus plans to unveil his scientifically tweaked creation, a mutant lamb escapes the lab and bites environmental activist Grant (Oliver Driver).

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“If you fascists have hurt him, I’m going to organise the biggest sit-in this farm has ever seen,” screams fellow campaigner Experience (Danielle Mason).

As bloodlust sweeps the flock, the survivors race against time to prevent the Franken-sheep from infecting neighbouring farms.

Black Sheep is a blood-drenched hoot, splicing black humour with some impressive make-up effects and prosthetics courtesy of Weta, plus state-of-the-art animatronics to bring to life the various weresheep that gleefully tuck into the human prey.

Limbs are severed with giddy abandon and rubbery flesh stretched to breaking point as the mad ewes go on the rampage.

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King’s script throws in warnings about the perils of aggressive farming in an organic age, while affectionately poking fun at the conventions of the horror genre.

“Oh my God!” gasps Experience as she, Henry and Tucker nervously prowl around an outhouse where the killer sheep have claimed another victim.

“What?” replies Henry, as Victoria Kelly’s orchestral score begins to swell with menacing intent.

“The feng shui in this room is terrible!”

Bestiality rears its head too - a retort to all the gags about New Zealand’s love of sheep - providing fertile ground for quips about animal husbandry.

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Meister, Feeney, Mason and co play their exaggerated roles with a knowing wink and a smile as the plot gambols free of logic, bound for an overblown final showdown between man and nature.

Star rating H H H H