Opening, like the first film, with a “based on actual events” title card that should be taken not so much with a pinch as an entire mine of salt, “Wolf Creek 2” wastes little time in reintroducing viewers to Mick Taylor (returning thesp John Jarratt), as he dispatches a pair of corrupt traffic cops with efficient sadism before the opening credits are through. A paunchy middle-aged bushwhacker whose mild-mannered taste in safari shirts and cheery Crocodile Dundee lingo still make him one of modern cinema’s more flummoxing serial killers, he looks not unlike Hugh Jackman’s similarly mutton-chopped Wolverine gone rather badly to seed. So it feels appropriate that the new film departs from its predecessor’s relative realism to portray Mick as a kind of unkillable anti-superhero, with his ramshackle desert lair having morphed into a rotting, elaborately booby-trapped underground empire of torture.