Last Stop Larrimah movie review: The best true crime documentary of the year so far; stranger-than-fiction storytelling at its finest

Told in five chapters of escalating oddness, the movie initially presents Paddy as a likeable man — head hatted and body beer-ed — who spent his days taking walks with his dog, driving his quad bike around the desert, and having a loud argument or two, all while drunk out of his wits. But his disappearance instantly revealed the many petty rivalries that he had with his fellow residents, each of whom, it seems, had reason to wish him harm. In a town of 11, even minor disputes can become public knowledge, and the slightest of insults can feel like a challenge unto death. It’s like being stranded in space, or on an island; differences are bound to creep up.

Most of it is too weird to behold. But it’s all true, including the brief suggestion that one of the town’s residents — Paddy’s sworn nemesis Fran — killed him in cold blood and stuffed him, Sweeney Todd-style, into her homemade mince pies. The perfect murder. Or did she have her live-in caretaker, a hulking man named Owen, do the dirty work for her? What is their deal, even? Does he actually just do odd-jobs for Fran for free, or are they romantically involved?

The interpersonal dynamics in a small town, especially one as sparsely populated as Larrimah, are almost impossible to explain. It’s like a comically exaggerated microcosm of society. For instance, Fran’s ex-husband lives just across the dirt path from her, doubled over with age, silently simmering at her nerve for leaving him. And then there’s a man who got banned from the local pub for rubbing the proprietor the wrong way. He might as well have been sent to prison; it’s not like there are any other pubs around. There’s also a rumour that Paddy might’ve been fed to the pet crocodile that the pub owner keeps in his backyard. And the movie delights in investigating each of these loose threads.

Originally a World War II outpost, Larrimah fell by the wayside over the following decades, eventually turning into a real-life version of Radiator Springs from the first Cars movie. It began to attract eccentrics looking for some peace and quiet, introverts desperate to avoid social interaction, and apparently also a murderer. Trapped as they essentially were in this open-air prison — financially and psychologically — the residents of Larrimah grew increasingly resentful of each other.

The movie observes them almost like they’re zoo animals, which isn’t the ideal position to take, even if it is an understandably difficult one to avoid. But crucially, there’s no malice intended; Last Stop Larrimah isn’t mocking its subjects, like, say, Tiger King did. Tancred tells the story with a degree of innocent curiosity and a ballooning sense of disbelief. It’s a fascinating document about life on the fringes of society; a movie that examines themes as old as storytelling itself — jealousy, anger, betrayal. And in a more metaphorical sense, Last Stop Larrimah is also a melancholic look at humanity’s propensity to self-destruct, even when it has shed the confines of conventional existence.

Last Stop Larrimah
Director – Thomas Tancred
Rating – 4.5/5