Australian horror film The Loved Ones proves that it is the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

It also marks the first marriage between school dance and horror movie in Australian cinema, for while the “prom” has become a familiar setting in many an American horror movie, we Aussies have not placed as much stock in its importance as a ritualistic night of passage for hormonal teens everywhere.

Yet if The Loved Ones is any indication, that is sure to change.

Xavier Samuel stars as Brent, a troubled teen who submerges himself into heavy metal and self mutilation while grieving the death of his father, Samuel looking the part dressed in heavy metal ’94 attire, complete with face covered with unwashed hair.

When he turns down mousy Lola’s (Robin McLeavy) invite to the school dance, hell follows in the form of madness in a pink dress, as Lola and her daddy (John Brumpton) drug, abduct, and strap Brent in for a dinner date he’ll never forget.

And neither will we, thanks to superb performances and heavy duty violent content which will repulse those who cannot stomach the amount of bloodshed featured.

While violence in a prominent factor, The Loved Ones does not rely on it as a sole currency, writer/director Sean Byrne (his debut) gleefully evoking horror classics of the ‘70s, especially Tobe Hopper’s seminal Texas Chain Saw Massacre with its rural setting and themes of family.

But while Byrne is a strident student of horror, his Loved Ones is no mere carbon copy of some retro classic.

Amongst the glitter and blood is a heartbeat, manifest in the ripple effect these violent acts have on Brent’s family and friends. Among them is his girlfriend Holly (Victoria Thaine), the lone light in Brett’s dark world.

Byrne successfully lays down the groundwork for his characters, prompting the proper reaction from his viewers. Brent is not some mere prop prone to punishment, and nor is his torturer your usual monster, pretty in pink and with a lot of “love” to share.

It is indeed McLeavy’s performance which will have people talking, childlike one minute and sadistically violent the next, singing the Kasey Chambers ballad “Not Pretty Enough” as if it were her theme song.

Brumfield’s “Daddy” who is willing to do anything for his “princess” also impresses, Byrne tweaking the incestuous nature of their relationship to queasy results.

Yet amongst the blood, the drama, and the teen angst, is a dose of humour so madcap and so twisted, that it is hard not to laugh during times of great violence.

Not many filmmakers can pull that feat off, making Byrne a man to watch in the horror game.