It's 25 years since George Miller shot to international fame as the director of The Man From Snowy River but he still recalls exactly the headline of one of the first reviews: "Wallaby western bites the dust."

"It's always bothered me," says Miller of the critics' lukewarm response to what became an iconic and top-grossing Australian film. "I was pilloried by the press for making Snowy but I think the critics realised the genie was out of the bottle. They traditionally had decided what films were worth seeing."

When Snowy was still showing in cinemas a year after its release, Miller sent one particularly vitriolic critic a birthday cake. He has since spent much of his working life in the US, living about half the time in Portland, Oregon, and the other half at his beach house in eastern Victoria.

He is sometimes mistaken for the "other" George Miller, whose director credits include the Mad Max series, Babe and Happy Feet. "It doesn't bother either of us, we find it amusing," says Miller, who occasionally has quotes in newspapers attributed to the other Miller, and vice versa.

Miller, who was born in Scotland but grew up in Gippsland, two hours east of Melbourne, began his directing career in 1966, when he joined the television production company Crawfords, in Melbourne. "I was a witless 21-year-old - it seemed like a good idea at the time," says Miller, who was interested in photography and originally wanted to be a cameraman.

He was behind the lens for only two weeks. "They trained you to do everything, they'd throw you in at the deep end to see if you sank or swam. I was one of the ones who swam - you wouldn't get that training anywhere now."

At Crawfords, Miller worked on series such as Homicide, Matlock Police and The Sullivans, and admired the deep respect company founder Hector Crawford had for the writers.

"He regarded the scriptwriters as more important than anyone else in the company," he says. "Sadly, the cause of Australia's demise as a filmmaking country is its lack of respect for writers." He describes much of the local film industry as "boring, depressing and politically correct ... It's like a ghastly car wreck that no one can quite see - the stories suck, big-time."

Miller describes faceless bureaucrats handing out taxpayers' money, with no one held responsible no matter how badly the film bombs. "Aboriginals, whales, a lesbian and an unhappy ending - boy let's make this film," he says sarcastically, noting that films are part of the entertainment industry.

But it's not all doom and gloom - Miller acknowledges "bright, shining hopes" such as comedians Chris Lilley (Summer Heights High) and Shane Jacobson (Kenny). His bent has always been towards commercial, feel-good type movies, rather than worthy art-house award winners. Since Snowy, Miller's best-known film is Never Ending Story II, and he's also directed several films involving children and animals, including Andre and Zeus And Roxanne.

"I've got a real thing about animals - they can't talk back," he jokes.

Miller has spent much of the past year shooting Prey, which he describes as a horror film with a bit of black humour. It's set in the outback but most of the filming has been inside a warehouse on Melbourne's northern outskirts, recreating the outback at night.

"Horror is so funny, I love it," Miller says. "You might not be scared but you'll always get a laugh."

The big questions

Biggest break: Undoubtedly Snowy [The Man from Snowy River, which Miller directed]. It was an opportunity that came out of the tax incentives, and was always conceived by myself and Geoff [Burrowes, the producer] as an international film.

Biggest achievement: Learning to read and write. It's the most important thing, it's the biggest achievement for anyone. Teach a child to read and they can do anything.

Biggest regret: Professionally, that Paul Hogan asked me to do Crocodile Dundee and I turned it down because Crawfords were [planning] a movie that they didn't end up doing. But my life would have been completely different and I'm happy with the way it's turned out.

Best investment: My beach house [in Gippsland, east of Melbourne]. I've got more than 180 degrees of ocean views. It's an absolute haven, it's where I write, it's sanity.

Worst investment: At the moment it's my retirement fund in America, which is down a staggering amount in the past week because of the sub-prime crisis.

Attitude to money: Take care of the pounds and the pennies will take care of themselves.

Personal philosophy: Do to other people before they have a chance to do to you.