Horizon by Maxine Mellor

Horizon by Maxine Mellor

Lovers on the highway, chased down by their past.

Cole and Sky, a young couple, are driving in a classic car from the coast to the gaping open-cut mines of Cole’s father’s empire. His father is on his deathbed and there are rumours Cole is set to inherit the earth after a life of aimlessness. They set out with unbridled enthusiasm for the road ahead; swept up in romantic dreaming and poetic ruminations amid the boundless plains. They knit new narratives for themselves; give themselves new names and identities in sync with their seemingly unanimous versions of utopia. Their newfound freedom is underscored by a long-forgotten mix tape buried deep in the glovebox, but out of the static following the final song, a pubescent voice cracks — a younger, angrier, more violent Cole and his teenage manifesto recorded to tape before a planned act of terror.

Equal parts Mad Max: Fury Road, Thelma and Louise, and the classic films of the Ozploitation era, Horizon keeps who we are in the rear view mirror, whilst asking what it is we can see in the warping heat-distorted bitumen ahead. With a smack of Wolf Creek, a slap of Wake in Fright, and a firm grip on the true stories of those lost to the isolation of the outback, Horizon is a high-octane journey that’s over the limit, over heating and tearing right into the heart of Australia.