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By Pete Vonder Haar | January 26, 2005

Nash Edgerton’s “Fuel” starts out tamely enough, as a young couple drives through the lush south Australian countryside singing along with the radio. Things take a turn, however, when their car runs out of gas. Chances for help from fellow motorists are remote on this stretch of lonely blacktop, so it’s lucky for them a passing hitchhiker tells them of a gas station a few miles down the road. The young man sets off with his gas can, leaving his pregnant girlfriend with the stranger. As you can imagine, things rapidly go downhill from there. Edgerton builds a sense of dread masterfully, to the point that when s**t starts happening it comes so fast and furious you won’t have a chance to catch your breath.

I like to pride myself on being relatively well-versed in horror and the like, but “Fuel” features one of the scariest scenes I’ve seen in years. I haven’t jumped in my seat like that in a long time, and I loved it.

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