Body Melt ★★½

Early Peter Jackson meets Neighbours (quite literally – even Harold Bishop shows up) in this mess of a film from avant musician Philip Brophy. It doesn’t know whether it wants to be a nutzoid riff on body horror à la Street Trash, a send-up of Ozploitation tropes, or a post-modern satire of Australian mores, so it goes for all three, with demented but confused results. At least it’s an interesting failure, I’ll give it that much.