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Reviewed by Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Chief Film Critic, Ratty News
⭐⭐⭐⭐☆ (Four Cheese Wheels out of Five)
I have attended many cinematic masterpieces over the years at the Dusty Gulch Drive-In.
I have also attended many films.
Dracula the Emu somehow manages to be both.
The opening scene immediately sets the tone as a terrified stockman sprints across the paddock yelling, "He's behind me, isn't he?"
He is.
Unfortunately, so is his barbecue.
The audience gasped.
Well... Mrs McFookit gasped.
Old Bushie just muttered, "Told him not to use tomato sauce."
From there the story unfolds with all the subtlety of a runaway road train.
The mysterious Dracula the Emu arrives in Dusty Gulch under cover of darkness, wearing an elegant black cape, glowing red eyes and a set of vampire fangs that would make any dentist consider early retirement.
Unlike traditional vampires, however, this one has developed a taste for premium Australian beef.
This immediately creates the central conflict.
Nobody can afford any.
Read more: Dracula the Emu - the most Terrifying Film You Will Never See!
The Measure of Our Humanity
Today you hear of so many incidents: I cannot call them stories, of cruelty, neglect, and downright "don't give a damn" attitudes that you reach the stage where you say, "Please don't go into the details. It is too upsetting."
I can't listen to any more distressing accounts of what someone has done to a child, an animal, or an elderly person.
We, as human beings, have brains.
We have hands and fingers. We have developed all sorts of things that can help those who depend on us, whether they belong to the animal kingdom or to our own species.
But if we don't speak out, who will? At 94, my sense of urgency is a reminder that time is short for all of us to act on what we know is right.
The more we bury the truth, the deeper the innocent are buried with it.
It's easy to look back at history and wonder how ordinary people failed to see what was happening.
How could whole towns live in the shadow of barbed wire and later say they knew nothing?
After the Second World War, Allied forces marched German civilians through the concentration camps. Ordinary men and women - bakers, schoolteachers, shopkeepers - were made to walk past piles of bodies, to smell the stench of death, to see the emaciated survivors, and to confront the consequences of evil that had been allowed to grow in plain sight.
It was a reckoning.
Not only for those who committed the crimes, but for those who chose not to ask difficult questions.
It's easy to forget, but revolutions don't just fall out of the sky.
They brew.
Slowly.
Like a storm gathering on the horizon that everyone convinces themselves will somehow blow over.
Take France in 1789.
Paris was in turmoil. Bread was scarce. The government was broke. Protesters filled the streets. Then came the storming of the Bastille. Heads were carried through the streets on pikes. The old order was beginning to crack.
A famous story tells how King Louis XVI, safe in Versailles and struggling to grasp what was unfolding, exclaimed, "This is a revolt!"
One of his advisers quietly replied:
"No, Sire. It is a revolution."
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Chief Correspondent, Dusty Gulch Bureau
DUSTY GULCH – What began as a simple case of a missing sausage, last seen on a Qantas jet heading to Ireland, has spiralled into the greatest feathered crisis in the town's history.
The trouble started last Saturday at the Dusty Gulch Memorial Barbecue Grounds, when three sausages, two bread rolls and an entire plate of onion mysteriously vanished.
Witnesses reported hearing a familiar sound from the gum trees above.
"HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!"
Within minutes, rumours spread like wildfire.
Laughing Jack McKooka had returned.
Read more: Keep One Hand on Your Snag - your Sausage Must be Protected
I recently picked up Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky again after many years. Funny thing about old books - you read them at twenty and think they're about someone else. You read them again at seventy and suddenly realise they're about everyone.
At its core, the novel is simple enough. A young man commits a terrible act and then discovers something that every civilisation eventually has to learn: we are responsible for our choices. We cannot turn back the clock and pretend the damage never happened.
We carry our mistakes with us.
That is why the book feels so disturbingly relevant today.
Because Raskolnikov never really disappeared into the Siberian snow. He is still with us. Every age produces its own versions of him.
He is the overeducated, self-important intellectual who believes he sees further than ordinary people. He contributes very little, yet somehow feels qualified to judge everyone else. He is angry, resentful and convinced that his ideas place him above the normal rules of right and wrong.
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Investigative Laundrologist - “Warning: The following article is satire and uses exaggeration and humour to make a point. Not intended as literal fact.”
Dusty Gulch, 2026 – In a world where truth is hung out to dry and speech is tumble-dried into compliance, the Dusty Gulch branch of the Country Women’s Association has had enough. Armed with pegs, petticoats, and an encrypted washboard, they’ve launched a daring resistance movement - one laundry tip at a time.
Leading the charge is none other than Dorothy “Dot” Snellgrove, president of the Dusty Gulch CWA and former codebreaker for the local Bingo Association. “If you can’t say it outright,” she says, “embroider it on a tea towel and peg it on the line.”
Dusty Gulch Tavern regular until he was caught with an air trumpet in his left boot, Benedict “Bruiser” Arnold (local roo shooter and enemy of Mayor Dusty McFookit ) claims he was only “documenting local sock sorting techniques for the Pentagon and helping out with hearing aids.” CWA sources allege he was attempting to livestream Doris McLintock’s sheet folding strategy. Local Cop Bushie McBush said investigations were ongoing and local emus were helping with enquiries.
Read more: When Whites are Hung out to dry and Speech is Tumble-dried into Compliance
The American Revolution is often told as a clean story: a line drawn in ink on 4th of July, 1776, when independence was declared and a new nation announced itself to the world.
But history rarely moves in straight lines. Long before declarations and signatures, there are quieter turning points - moments when ordinary people begin to realise that politics is no longer just argument, but obligation.
Paul Revere’s midnight ride belongs to that earlier, more uncertain world. It was not the birth of independence. It was the moment when duty began to overtake hope.
At the time, many colonists still hoped for reconciliation with Britain. Petitions had been written, grievances carefully listed, and arguments made in the language of rights and constitutional tradition. Even among those uneasy with British rule, there was still a widespread belief that reconciliation was possible.
War was not yet inevitable in the minds of most. It was still something to be avoided, negotiated away, or delayed.
But it was coming.
They say history repeats.
But sometimes, it just whispers.
In 1776, America did not become free. It declared its intention to become free - and then faced the long, dangerous, and uncertain work of making that declaration a reality.
It took seven years.
Seven years of war, hardship, doubt, and extraordinary perseverance before the bold words of July 4th became an established, internationally recognised nation.
The Declaration of Independence was the opening shot in a seven-year struggle to make those words a reality. Victory on the battlefield came at Yorktown in 1781, but it was not until the Treaty of Paris in 1783 that the world formally recognised the United States as a free and independent nation.
On June 11, 1776, Thomas Jefferson began to write. Jefferson later explained that he hoped his words served as an “expression of the American mind.”
On July 2, 1776, Congress voted to declare independence.
Two days later, on 4th of July, it ratified the text of the Declaration. The 4th of July became the day ordinary people - in kitchens, taverns, churches, and town squares - said, "No more."
Every year, around the anniversary of the bombing of Darwin on 19 February 1942, we remember the shock and courage of those dark days.
What is less often told is what was happening across the vast cattle lands of Queensland and the Northern Territory at the very same time.
While Darwin burned and the north braced for invasion, thousands of cattle were being walked south; away from the threat; in some of the greatest droving feats in Australian history.
Many Australians of an older generation will remember the classic 1946 film The Overlanders, starring Chips Rafferty. Inspired by the wartime movement of northern cattle, the film captured the courage, endurance and quiet determination of the drovers who undertook one of the greatest cattle drives in our history.
Though dramatised for the screen, it preserved something precious - the spirit of the men and women who lived and worked in the vast Australian interior when the nation needed them most.
By Roderick McNibble, Chief Investigative Correspondent, Ratty News
Dusty Gulch had been quiet for nearly twelve minutes.
That, as locals will tell you, is usually the warning sign.
The event began with what the Council described as a “community cattle appreciation and cultural resilience exhibition.”
By mid-morning, the paddock had become a festival ground. By noon, it had become something else entirely.
And by afternoon, the sky had developed opinions.
Read more: Dusty Gulch Grand Throwdown: Thunderdome, Cattle, Cake and the Honklander III
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