You’d be forgiven if you thought that Last Stop Larrimah, a new documentary now streaming on Max (formerly known as HBO Max), was a little like the Australian version of Tiger King. That series, which turned many of its stars into household names, set the standard for true crime shows featuring larger-than-life characters whose quirks are 100% feature, 0% bug. Larrimah, a two-hour film produced by Mark and Jay Duplass, investigates the disappearance of Paddy Moriarty, one of the eleven residents of Larrimah, a remote town in the Northwest Territory in Australia. In a town with so few people, what’s wild is that there more than a few that would have wanted Paddy dead, including the baker who might have stuffed him into her meat pies, the bar owner who might have fed him to his pet crocodile, and the gardener who might have buried him under his flowers.
Opening Shot: Karen and Mark Rayner, two residents of the Australian town of Larrimah, sit at a table and introduce themselves. They’re then asked by an off-camera producer, “What was your initial reaction when all of this went down?” and Karen replies, “We were stunned. Somebody here could actually murder somebody. Good God. In Larrimah.” She looks at her husband Mark, and he just lets out a loud sigh.
The Gist: Larrimah is a remote town located in Australia’s Northern Territory. Once a bustling rest area along the highway that leads to the city of Darwin, it’s now all but deserted, inhabited by eleven – make that ten, now – people. Last Stop Larrimah (subtitled “An Outback Tale In Five Chapters”) digs into the mysterious disappearance of one of the town’s most sociable occupants, Paddy Moriarty, who left the town’s only pub on the night of December 16, 2017 and neither he nor his dog were ever seen again.
In the first of the two-hour film’s five chapters, Larrimah looks like one of those Northern Exposure-type towns filled with eccentrics who live in the middle of nowhere and have a charming and quirky community. We soon learn that almost none of the town’s residents actually got along, and in fact, many of them outright hated one another.
As each chapter unfolds, we learn about feuds between Paddy and other residents that expain why many of them would want him dead. Early on, we learn of the rivalry between Paddy and Fran, the owner of the town’s pie shop, who entered a bitter feud when Paddy started selling his own pies at the local pub. From there, all eyes turned to Fran as Suspect #1, and she was even accused of going full Sweeney Todd and killing Paddy and cooking him into her pies. Fran’s ex-husband Billy (affectionately known as Billy Light Can, for his love of drinking cans of light beer all day), who now lives in a trailer next door to Fran, but hasn’t spoken to her in over a year, even suggests that he thinks Fran had something to do with Paddy’s disappearance. You can’t blame Fran for hating Paddy: on top of trying to take down her business, he would routinely harass her, stealing items from her property and once even cutting the penis off of a dead donkey and leaving it on her property.
But there are other suspects, too, including Paddy’s best friend Barry Sharpe, the local pub owner who raised crocodiles (he is credited with gifting Bob Irwin, father to Steve Irwin, his first croc, the implication being that Barry was basically responsible for The Crocodile Hunter). Though Barry loved Paddy, the suggestion that Paddy’s body was fed to his crocodile is offered. Another resident, Fran’s gardener Owen Laurie, is also accused when we learn he threatened Paddy over his dog’s disruptive barking.
The most fascinating aspect of the film is that years before Paddy’s disappearance, a local news crew interviewed the townsfolk for a feature about them, and in that footage, all of their hatred and animosity was on display, and is used here to create a narrative and examine the relationships between everyone. Were it not for that fateful footage, there may be no film at all. And with so many townspeople having motive to want Paddy dead, the question of whodunnit is a mystery until the final act of the film, when shocking audio of an assumed confession from one of the key suspects is discovered.
What Shows Will It Remind You Of? For much of the documentary, despite the fact that we’re investigating a disappearance and possible murder, the tone feels light, upbeat, and determined to make the story about the unusual residents of Larrimah, much like Tiger King tried to harness the stranger-than-fiction personalities of people like Joe Exotic. But by the end, there’s a Jinx-like twist, too.
Our Take: This documentary has it all: Sondheim references, donkey penises, stock footage of Steve Irwin. Larrimah is a town that seemed to attract people who didn’t just want to live off the grid, they didn’t even realize there was a grid. Karen and Mark Reyner, who appear to be in their 50s (and also act as almost impartial narrators for us, as they seem to be some of the only residents without a motive to kill Paddy), are the youngest residents of the town, while everyone else seems to be in their 70s and most have lived there for decades.
The film does an incredible job setting up this wild cast of eccentrics, and uses all of the archival interviews from the news station to great effect. There’s even a big finish, in which one of the prime suspects is caught on tape declaring that they killed Paddy and his dog, and while this offers some closure, the reveal that these tapes exist feels peculiar and abrupt. After nearly two hours of speculation over which of the townsfolk might have killed Paddy, we learn that the police installed listening devices in the home of one of the suspects soon after Paddy’s death, and at one point, this person talks to themself and essentially confesses to murder. And yet none of this was revealed until four years later.
In an eerie audio re-creation, we hear the admission, in which the person (for the sake of spoilers, we won’t reveal who), states that they “killerated” Paddy and his dog. While this should feel thrilling, as if we’re finally being offered some closure, there are two lingering problems with them. First, the recordings themselves aren’t solid enough evidence to convict this person, which means there is no true justice served (yet), and second, the fact that these recordings existed for four years and were never disclosed until recently is unexplained to the audience, leaving a lingering sense of confusion and doubt over the situation. Sure, we can take the audio as a confession and thus get a sense of closure, but in many ways, the existence of the tapes bring up more questions than answers.
Sex and Skin: None.
Parting Shot: The film ends with an epilogue, set to Peter Allen’s soaring ode to the mother country, “I Still Call Australia Home,” as we learn the fates of Larrimah’s residents, most of whom have moved away or, in Barry Sharpe’s case, died. While it has seemed, for much of the film, like Paddy’s disappearance signaled the end of this quaint town, we learn that Fran’s grandson has taken over the pie shop, and a young couple with a baby have moved in to manage the pub, and Larrimah might not be facing extinction just yet.
Performance Worth Watching: Every resident of Larrimah is a character, but perhaps none is as riveting to watch as pie-maker Fran, whose almost cartoonishly high voice, ever-changing hairstyle, and kindly-grandma-with-a-mean-streak persona are inimitable.
Memorable Dialogue: “I talked to Chalkie, and he said, d’you reckon there’s something funny about this? And I said ‘yeah,'” says Des Barritt, the local captain of the Fire and Emergency Response team from the nearest town. Chalkie is the local police officer in charge of the search for Moriarty.
Our Call: STREAM IT! Despite the fact that the criminal case at the heart of the film feels slightly unsatisfying, overall, this film is a character study of, and love letter to, Australians who live on the fringes and are stubbornly content to do so.
Liz Kocan is a pop culture writer living in Massachusetts. Her biggest claim to fame is the time she won on the game show Chain Reaction.