With only a few claustrophobic settings, Peter Weir shows himself to be a master of subtle menace. The Plumber plays off the conventions of a horror film without having any horror content - the slightly unbalanced tradesman that invades the Cowper household and subtly terrorizes graduate student Jill never physically threatens her. Instead, he does what's come to be known as 'invading one's space'. Immediately assuming rights he shouldn't, he takes over Jill's apartment and begins to dominate her physically and mentally. Not knowing how to react, poor Jill is immediately swamped by Max's subtle and not-so-subtle impositions. His behavior is outrageous. He tears up the bathroom with no consideration and spends most of his time getting personal with his client/victim against her will. There's an undisguised assumption of sexual domination as he puts her off balance with talk of prison and rape. He feels free to go through her personal belongings and enter and leave when he wants.

Jill's problem is that Max comes off as an okay guy when he wants to; even her own husband refuses to take seriously her feelings of being threatened. The movie is a great example of how the meek are victimized by the aggressive.

Weir complicates the stew with predictable observations on anthropology and class. Jill studies other cultures and graduated from a 'posh' University. Max becomes borderline-hostile at the thought that he's an uneducated person considered of a lower class than teh Cowpers; he sings imitation Bob Dylan protest songs with lyrics that seem personally directed at Jill. The only forced irony is that Jill, a sensitive person struggling to understand a primitive New Guinea culture, can't communicate with another Australian on a one-to-one basis. Once again, modern society's sophistication is useless in a practical situation.

On the other hand, when Jill retaliates against Max with his own sensitivity to class distinctions, she's really using the only weapon she has. She corrects his bad grammar in front of another woman, striking a devastating blow to his ego. Later, when he's managed to wreck her plumbing so badly that they'll have to be 'together' for weeks and weeks, it's too much for Jill. (No spoilers here)

The Plumber makes us realize how other horror films miss the boat when it comes to menace. Max is unsettling and scary because he can't be controlled. He's the casual bully who infuriates by turning our own civility against us. The subtle terror goes beyond Val Lewton's uncertainties ... it's the kind of unease we get whenever we surrender our psychological independence, knowing the other person has gained the upper hand. The Plumber sticks to the real menace we can all relate to.