Dangerous Animals (2025) is Sean Byrne’s first film released in ten years since he floored festival audiences with the excruciatingly tense Devil’s Candy back in 2015 (and the underrated, gleefully sadistic teen torture flick The Loved Ones before that). 

Dangerous Animals had its world premiere on 17 May 2025 at the Cannes Film Festival during the Directors’ Fortnight section, becoming the first Australian feature film to screen at the program since Zak Hilditch‘s These Final Hours in 2014. 

Byrne directs the movie while Nick Lepard (writer for the upcoming Keeper, Osgood Perkins’ latest film) provides the script. It stars Hassie Harrison as Zephyr, a nomadic, punk rock-loving surfer who is a long way from her native USA. 

We open with a gorgeously shot montage of Zephyr surfing solo as The Donna’s rendition of Dancing With Myself blares over the neon-soaked credits; perfectly setting up our lead lady as a Lone Wolf who lives for ‘the barrel’ (when a surfer rides inside a wave face) and has little time for new people entering her world of solitude. While indulging in some petty theft at a 7-11, she encounters the charming if persistent Moses (played by Josh Heuston)—a handsome realtor whose boyish allure wins over the guarded Zephyr.

The pair enjoy a one-night stand together before Zephyr disappears into the night. 

When Zephyr drives back to her beloved beach in the AM, she crosses paths with the eccentric and unpredictable Bruck Tucker (Jai Courtney), a gruff Australian with a dark proclivity.

Like Zephyr, Tucker leads a solitary life; he spends much of his time in his home—a fishing vessel where he sells shark diving experiences creatively dubbed ‘Tucker’s Experiences’. He is arrogant, confident, funny, and often charming (reminiscent of the cool but chilling Mick Taylor in another nasty Australian export, Wolf Creek). 

When a young couple propositions him for a cage-diving experience, he teases the pair during a memorable scene where the young lady is anxious about their dive. Tucker ceremoniously grabs the girl’s hand, telling her partner to also join hands and to breathe deeply as he asks them to repeat an ancient technique bestowed upon him. 

The couple tense, waiting for him to dictate the spiritual words granted to him, and suddenly he begins to sing ‘’baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo!’’ 

My entire theatre and I erupted in laughter. 

This charming icebreaker belies the true motives of our antagonist, and it also sets the tone for the movie, which precariously tiptoes between black comedy and horror; a feat often deployed in Ozploitation movies. 

Dangerous Animals never fully devolves into Ozploitation territory; it doesn’t commit to the genre’s darker sensibilities, however; this balancing act ultimately makes the film more accessible for Gen Z audiences. 

Lepard’s script focuses on the integrated love story between Zephyr and Moses, which ultimately lends the film a more universal appeal to viewers unfamiliar with the Australian Horror genre outside of films like Talk To Me. 

He states: ‘’I came up for the visual of somebody sneaking a person onto a boat in a surfboard bag and couldn’t let it go.” He then imagined the reasoning behind why this may occur. 

Lepard’s research sent him into an exploration of the cultural appeal of sharks, including their portrayal in popular media. His deep dive into these misunderstood creatures prompted him to write a letter to Columbia Pictures, criticising their film The Shallows and its negative, unrealistic depiction of sharks as being simply vicious, opportunistic hunters. 

In Lepard’s script, we are witnesses to sharks approaching unfortunate humans within their waters with curiosity, rather than outright attacking them, as other movies would have us believe. 

(It is worth noting that sharks experience the world similarly to how prey-driven dog breeds do: through their mouths. Sharks use their mouths as investigative tools and will often employ small nips/ bites to figure out whether what is in their territory is a threat or food.)

The character of Tucker was born from the public’s warped fascination with shark attacks, which, as Lepard explains, ‘’both feeds the obsession and advocates for the protection of sharks.”

Nick’s script quickly made it into the hands of Horror auteur Sean Byrne, who was instantly sold on its high concept and unique ideas. 

He oscillates between brash Australian charm and unpredictable, sociopathic anger with ease. 

When we are first introduced to him, he is showing his latest customers around his ship with pride, even beaming over a horrific news article which centres on him as a young boy. The newspaper is framed in his quarters, and its headline reads, ‘’I beat Jaws!’’ alongside a photograph of a young Tucker, around eight years old. 

His female customer prods him for details of the shark attack he survived, and her voice is laced with sadness when she asks, “Wasn’t someone watching you?’’ 

It is a testament to Courtney’s acting chops because he replies with a simple “…no” before his entire face falls, and his eyes take on the look of someone who is reliving a flashback, burdened by the terror he experiences whilst in the throes of it. 

Tucker switches back to his affable charm just as suddenly before lifting his shirt to reveal a gargantuan scar, in the shape of a shark bite, which stretches across most of his side and midsection. 

His unpredictable moods underline a character who only hides his antisocial personality when it serves him and indulges in his darker traits when he feels truly alone. 

Some of his darker traits include him happily slurping on his breakfast as he watches VHS tapes of women being murdered; calling to mind a routine shared by Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. 

He languishes in a silk, Asian robe emblazoned with dragons, wearing only his underpants beneath, drinking heavily and dancing around his cabin as poor Zephyr screams beneath him, deep from within the bowels of the ship. 

Tucker is an alcoholic with Mummy Issues, and we are invited to laugh at him when all his mystique and posturing is stripped away. The contrast between his childlike habits while he indulges in depravity is played for laughs, however, the laughs are midnight-black in tone and therefore, may not tickle everyone. 

These scenes also offer us a rare glimpse into the wounded child hidden deep within the damaged adult. 

This signals a filmmaking team who don’t wish to pander to their audience; they trust that the plot’s subtle subtext is gleaned from the way in which the actors respond to certain triggers or phrases. 

Tucker’s trauma appears to be linked to his own internalised misogyny. He weaponizes his PTSD and inflicts his internal scars upon innocents (primarily women). Meanwhile, Zephyr uses her own hurt as a driving force for survival against impossible odds. 

Hassie Harrison shines as Zephyr; her physicality is utterly feral at times, and her unfaltering drive belies her hippie, carefree essence. Like Jai Courtney’s brilliant portrayal of Tucker, she effortlessly swings between approachable and closed-off. 

The gimmick of DANGEROUS ANIMALS is also its selling point: What if a serial killer harnessed the power of sharks as his chosen murder weapon?

This is a terrifying prospect because, as humans, we share a collective, very primal fear of both predatory animals and the ocean. My Thalassophobia was triggered A LOT, particularly during scenes when the camera suddenly dips beneath the waveline, and we are thrust into the perpetual darkness which stretches off into every direction of the Abyss. 

Dangerous Animals is a gorgeously shot film. The stark orange of Tucker’s ship disrupts the eternal blue where the horizon meets the crystalline waters across Australia’s Gold Coast, Queensland (with the film’s production contributing $10.7 million to the state’s economy during filming).

Cinematographer Shelley Farthing-Dawe employed a crane-rig that hung off the side of the boat and enabled the actors to be filmed being lowered into the open waters, adding to the palpable and believable tension. 

He employed 4K footage of sharks like Makos, Tiger Sharks, Bull Sharks, and Grey Nurses swimming, with CG being employed to generate their fins for above-water shots. 

The gore is sporadic yet impactful. When we see underwater shots of dismembered heads and limbs from Tucker’s victims floating in the water, they are shocking in their sudden appearance amongst the blue gloom. 

The juxtaposition between the underwater gore sequences is also alarming. In the water, we merely see the aftermath of a shark attack; the shots are almost Arthouse in nature, with the blood of victims blossoming outwards, embellishing the surrounding water in scarlet hues. 

The violence which unfolds in the confines of Tucker’s grisly headquarters is grimy by comparison. 

The camera lingers upon the women who are shackled to their beds with chains, as a bucket for bodily waste lies in frame—their clothing soaked in blood and sweat, while the human violence is pored over in the cold light of day, for all to see. 

The nighttime shots are horrifying, and Courtney adds to the terror as an unpredictable predator who enjoys nothing more than dangling his bleeding victims from a hook. 

Is it a flawless film? Well, no, but it succeeds far more often than it falters.

I will say that aligning one’s movie with the cultural behemoth which is Jaws is well, ballsy, and this film really goes for it. 

Tucker’s first name is Bruce: a nod of the head to the infamous killer shark in Jaws, and (his surname is Australian slang for ‘food’). The film’s score precariously slips into the same beats as the globally recognized and instantly identifiable Jaws theme from John Williams. 

It’s a risky move because triggering that comparison in the minds of filmgoers may harm the film’s popularity; nothing can measure up to the impact that Jaws continues to have today. On the other hand, it’s an inevitable comparison for every subsequent shark movie, so it may make sense to lean into it a bit. 

At times, the forced romance between Zephyr and Moses feels too soapy and unrealistic, but I give it a pass because these moments successfully serve a key plot point and help maintain the dramatic momentum. 

Ultimately, Dangerous Animals is fun Summer splash that’s anxiety-inducing, thrilling, frightening, and often hilarious—well worth diving into. 

Overall Rating (Out of 5 Butterflies): 4