THE DYSTOPIAN GENRE offers a mine of possible realities. The future world is a blank slate. Ever since Metropolis (1927) envisioned the capitalist’s utopian society built upon the backs of an unseen working class that sustains the luxury of the elite, anything was possible. Dream big, for it may come true.

It is more than evident the vast array of dystopia-themed films that have been popularised and over-popularised in the last few decades, in both mainstream and independent circuits. The dystopian genre since the stark visages of science fiction visionaries such as H.G. Wells and Philip K. Dick, Ursula Le Guin, Arthur C. Clarke and others have been a prolific influence on apathetic plights to contemplate, on some conscious level, our own decadent modern civilisation and inevitable mortality. This existential fascination has become a basic weakness, the prima facie of a fragile part of our nature that has been relegated.

The past 30 years have brought us some spectacular distractions. Brazil (1985) is a prophetic look into the 21st century, where a dehumanising bureaucracy can pin anything on someone, even as it makes them yearn for a freedom that is feared to be long lost. Blade Runner (1992) imagines a world where humanity is cloning itself to create an artificial slave force with limited lifespans and little hope. The Matrix (1999) perceives a simulated reality which humans are brainwashed to believe in, while their bodily heat is used to sustain the system’s energy source. In Children of Men (2006), we witness the slow, inexorable decline of civilisation as humanity loses the ability to reproduce. The Hunger Games (2012) sees teenage children chosen, then faced with an imperative to take part in televised fights where the last one standing is crowned victor.

And this promise of possibility is where The Rover (2014) fails to achieve from the outset. Billed as a post-apocalyptic film set in the dry Australian outback “10 years after the collapse,” it traces the series of events after the protagonist Eric’s car is stolen, and his hostage-cum-accomplice Rey. We don’t get to know what this ‘collapse’ is, exactly, or why it happened. The Americans have (ostensibly) taken over: there are a lot of guns, and black-market vendors prefer the USD over the AUD; American imperialism having finally put the nail in the coffin and dug its claws in. China may also be involved. All of the women—save three (a doctor/nurse-type character; an old, seemingly senile grandmother who knits; a mother occupied with the laundry and appears to only speak Mandarin)—are dead, or missing.

The comparison to the Mad Max movies are inevitable. The Outback becomes an allegory for the end of the world, far removed and inhospitable. Every shred of law and order is destroyed except for the Darwinian laws of natural selection. The Americans are gazing on in exhilaration.

Despite its breathtaking, lingering shots of the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, where The Rover was mostly shot, there is no saving grace. There are a lot of tracking shots of Eric (Guy Pearce), and the conversations are paltry. We get brief glimpses into Rey’s (Richard Pattinson) feelings, which trick the viewer into thinking that the plot is going somewhere. We find out that Eric killed his wife because she was cheating on him, ten years ago. The military have taken over this society. Dogs are left behind by their owners.

At 103 minutes, The Rover drags on for longer than it should, with a sorry anti-climax as its denouement. We find out, at the very last moment, why Eric was so hell-bent on taking back his car, and then the screen fades to black. It is the trope of the hardened man turned violent in desperate circumstances, but has a softer side which is eventually unveiled. You almost want to kill someone because they cheated (on) you. Then cry. Okay.

There is one thing to realise, however. In this mood piece poorly disguised as a post-apocalyptic world’s end, The Rover tells us of a world destroyed in the future where in the survival of the fittest, all the women are dead, guns are king, and non-white people don’t speak. It tells us that when the world ends, it is about one thing, and one thing only: the white man and his dog.