On the night before D-Day in June 1944, Kiwi soldiers Ben and Joe (Hall and Drinkwater) land on the German-occupied Channel Islands on a mission to distract Hitler's forces from the Allied attack in Normandy. At a gun turret they're assigned to destroy, they hear freaky noises coming from inside. So they take a look, stumbling into a grisly Nazi project to use occult powers to win the war. And the sadistic Col Meyer (Sunderland) is only barely keeping things under control.

Moody and involving, director Campion nicely captures the apprehension that's so strongly felt by movie's four characters as the story shifts from a taut military thriller into a variation on the torture porn genre. Then when Col Meyer calmly notes that "it is hungry", we realise we're in for an even nastier ride. And thanks to the effects experts at Weta, the gruesome carnage is both realistic and revolting.

Hall is terrific in the central role, and we identify with him as he plunges deeper into this nightmare. Even though the film is fairly simplistic, focussed closely on grossing out the audience, Hall makes Ben a tough and resourceful protagonist who is deeply unsettled by what he discovers in the depths of this underground hideout. Meanwhile, Sunderland is much more interesting than the Nazi villain he initially appears to be. And to say that Varela's role is unnerving is an understatement.

As the increasingly desperate events progress, the filmmakers cleverly stir in some emotional subtext and just enough mystery to keep us intrigued. The freak-out premise is seriously yucky, and the extreme gore is almost gleeful in its hideousness. Yes, there's a strong element of gonzo nuttiness in here, which the filmmakers camp up to just the right level while keeping everything dark and sinister. And in the end it's so enjoyably over the top that we can't help but have fun even as we're completely repulsed.

Jay and Shel (Maskell and Buring) have a mercurial marriage, with full-tilt arguments followed by moments of tender closeness. Perhaps this has to do with their military backgrounds, but their young son Sam (Simpson) doesn't really understand. And neither does Jay's army pal Gal (Smiley), who visits for a tense dinner party with his girlfriend Fiona (Fryer). Then Jay and Gal embark on a business trip as a hitman duo, and as they progress through their kill list, they begin to fall into the clutches of what looks like a sinister pagan cult.

Wheatley directs and writes (with Jump) in such a way that we can see clues continually dropped into our path, drawing us along and into the story. The mystery is compelling and intriguing, even as it becomes increasingly horrific and hideously violent. We are genuinely intrigued by where this story is going, because each turn of the tale is deeply unsettling.

And the real reason that we're so involved, of course, is the depth of the characters, and the script constantly reveals new things about them. These are dark, insinuating people who have extremely complicated interaction as friends, spouses and lovers. Nothing that happens between them is remotely predictable, and the scenes are packed with both intense emotions and hilarious black comedy that's played in raw, naturalistic ways by the whole cast.

Some viewers might be annoyed by the vague ellipses in the plot, which seems to leave so many questions unanswered. Why does Jay have such a hot temper that he can't resist killing people in the most sudden, violent way? Why do most of his victims say "thank you"? And how did we end up at that outrageous ending? Clear answers to these questions are all here, but Wheatley leaves them sprinkled around for us to find. Not many filmmakers credit their audiences with this much intelligence, so when one does it's pretty exhilarating.

When her loving husband (Young) dies suddenly, Dawn (Gainsbourg) is left with four lively kids and a big house in rural Australia. The property is dominated by a gigantic fast-growing fig tree, and 8-year-old daughter Simone (Davies) is convinced her father is inside it. Certainly the events that follow suggest as much, especially after Dawn gets a job with local plumber George (Csokas) and their mutual attraction begins to blossom. Meanwhile, eldest son Tim (Byers) is looking for work so he can move to the city.

Essentially, the tree becomes the central story's character as it reacts to everything that happens. And as it keeps growing, its roots threaten to destroy the house. Metaphors don't get much less subtle than this, so it's fortunate that writer-director Bertuccelli concentrates on the characters' personal interaction. And the cast members bring out the delicate balance beautifully, with Gainsbourg and Csokas giving especially understated performances that only hint at their inner feelings.

At its core, this is a film about grief and recovery, and the story is packed with solid explorations of these issues. The tree offers sometimes painfully obvious commentary, while Simone's relationship to it is played out in an overdramatic way that's perhaps appropriate for her age. But as it goes, we are forced along with the characters to think about how we cope with loss, when it's acceptable to move on and whether home and history resides in places and objects or in our own memories and relationships.

Bertuccelli explores these issues in a way that's far more restrained than everything else in the story, which includes an invasion of frogs in the toilet, a lost bat in the kitchen, an enormous jellyfish and a cranky neighbour (Hackforth-Jones), all offering figurative commentary on everything that's happening. Even the relationship between Dawn and George is a bit schematic, as is the way the tree constantly creaks and moans. But underneath all of this noise, the film has some meaningful things to say.

In a rough Oakland neighbourhood, The Crew is a feared motorcycle gang led by the hothead Q (Roberts). One weekend Q, his tough-sexy girlfriend Shade (Cole), her brother Cody (Knauf) and their friend Elroy (Tagas) head off for a weekend in a country cabin with the gang. But it takes a dark turn when Cody's slutty ex Michelle (Shepis) appears, soaked in blood. Things spiral out of control quickly when phones and cars are mysteriously disabled, and friends turn on each other as they struggle with what to do next.

The film is sharply well shot, quickly establishing the characters with a surprising complexity. Sure, these guys are misogynistic louts who would rather throw a punch than talk to each other, but there are moments when they drop their guard. And Knauf brings a remarkable sensitivity to Cody, a second-generation gang member who still isn't over Michelle, even as her now-grown-up little sister Megan (Prousalis) flirts shamelessly with him.

But everything turns hideously nasty before romantic melodrama can kick in, and the character detail makes what follows that much more horrific. There are plenty of grotesque twists and turns as the film progresses, including strange glimpses of knife-flicking dandies in the woods and a blood-soaked barn in which something rather grisly is happening. Even more bizarrely, it looks like the aurora borealis is tinkering with the electro-magnetic field.

The filmmakers assemble this for maximum impact, continually shocking us with sudden extreme violence while undercutting the mood with an offbeat song score and increasingly unhinged situations. Is this just a brutal gang fight? Is there a killer on the loose? Or is something supernatural going on? There are moments when the acting wobbles as cast members try to be overly camp or serious, but the central characters remain involving. And as it descends into a gonzo horror romp, it's entertainingly ghastly.