There is a dream sequence midway through Russell Mulcahy’s 1984 horror film opus, “Razorback,” featuring a man walking injured and alone through the Australian Outback.

He is shoeless. His feet are bleeding. He passes a great chasm that zig-zags like a lightning bolt, and walks between monolithic stones rising from the ground at threatening angles. At one point, he sits down and tears scraps of material from his shirt, using them to tie up the wounds on his bloody feet. As a child – I was 8 when I first saw this film – I, for some reason, thought these unorthodox bandages were rope. Despite being sickened at this sight, I was ill-prepared for what happens next – a horse’s skeleton bursting forth from the ground and chasing him across the desert.

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