Just because a movie says it is “Based on True Events” that doesn’t mean a person should take what occurs as gospel. Nine times out of ten the film saying this barely resembles the actual events it’s supposedly mirroring, using the shield of a true story to allow filmmakers to pretty much do whatever they want. This is especially true in horror, movies like “The Amityville Horror” and “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” saying they’re true when the reality is far more fictional.

I’m sure the same thing can be said of the new Australian Outback thriller “Wolf Creek.” My guess would be writer-director Greg McLean’s terror tale holds little resemblance to the actual true crime story it purports to tell. Not that I can really say this for certain, and I know nothing about the brutal masochistic serial killer whose narrative this is supposed to be. And while I freely admit what I do not know, what I do know it that if the true events behind this story resemble any of this at all than Australian detectives must be the singularly stupidest crime fighters on the face of the entire planet.

Late one summer, two British women, Liz (Cassandra Magrath) and Kristy (Kestie Morassi), on vacation Down Under hook up with a hunky Aussie Ben (Nathan Phillips) while partying on one of the coasts. Together, the threesome go on a road trip into the Outback to visit an historic meteor crater at Wolf Creek. Once they reach their destination, they return from hiking to the center of the famous site only to discover their vehicle won’t start. Thankfully, a kindly resident named Mick (John Jarratt) offers his assistance, towing the trio back to his residence in order to fix their car.

What comes next is a journey into extreme degradation and sadism none of the young friends are prepared for. Captured, tortured, brutalized and beaten, their mysterious captor takes great joy in producing as much misery as possible before attempting to do them all in one by one. He is a monster, an inhuman madman intent on spilling as much blood from the trio as possible. When all is said and done, if Liz, Kristy and Ben ever hope to escape they all know it is going to take a degree of willpower and fight none of them fathomed they could ever possess. Quite frankly, as much fun as it sounded, this is one trip into the unknown they should never have taken.

Neither should audiences. Not so much because the horror doesn’t work, when McLean finally gets around to turning the screws it is impossible not to squirm uncomfortably, but because it takes an unconscionable amount of time for him to finally do so. While I appreciate character development over indiscriminate shocks, there is no reason whatsoever for it to take almost an hour for one of the main characters to wake up chained to the floor and gagged with a wet rag.

In all fairness, that first hour isn’t that bad, and the movie certainly is made with an assuredly confident hand. In fact, if this were an existential Outback drama, like Peter Weir’s “Picnic at Hanging Rock” or Philip Noyce’s “Rabbit Proof Fence,” “Wolf Creek” might have even been something special. From an astonishingly sensitive and heart-warming first kiss full of exuberant youthful authenticity, to some breathtaking views of the landscape and the real-life crater the friends have come to explore, the look and feel of it all is certainly a feast for both the ears and the eyes.

But, after awhile, I started looking at my watch in shifting in my seat as McLean’s exposition droned on and on and on. While it is nice to get to know the characters so intimately (and as good as all three the actors are), much of it just isn’t necessary, and it’s hard not to get anxious and fidgety as you wait for the supposed terrifying shenanigans to begin. The movie moves like molasses oozing down the side of a trashcan, taking so much sweet time to get to the first scare by the time it finally arrives at one viewers are lucky if they’re not asleep.

If they are still awake, viewers do finally get a stripped-down 1970’s-style horror show that’s actually both intense and deeply scary. For 2005, this is a borderline major event, almost every other horror flick this year so bad they’re aren’t even words to put it all into perspective. McLean shows himself quickly to be a master of lean mean visceral thrills, cracking the whip of tension so tight a person could be forgiven if they leave a fingernail or two imbedded in the armrests of their theater seat.

Yet, I can’t help asking what the point of all of this ultimately is. McLean separates his last third into shocking vignettes, following the girls intimately but then forgetting about his male protagonist almost completely. What he then proceeds to do to the two women is so heartless, so monstrously cruel, I almost half expected the other female members of the audience I was seeing this with to walk out. Women in horror movies are always the ones most brutalized, sure, but what McLean does to Magrath and Morassi borders on pure amoral hatred.

Worse, like this year’s earlier French import “High Tension,” the writer-director ends his movie on a coda so absurd I wanted to yell at the screen in modest disgust. While it isn’t as wretched as that earlier foreign fiasco, “Wolf Creek” still isn’t close to being near as good as it could be. In fact, the way this bombs out is enough to make me give up on my beloved horror genre completely. For someone raised on the glories of Craven, Hooper, Romero, Carpenter and Argento, that just might be the most personally terrifying achievement of them all.

Film Rating: êê  (out of 4)