Jai Courtney’s shark-obsessed serial killer is pure horror gold in a B-movie that boasts elaborate underwater massacres; however, well-meaning performances by Hassie Harrison and Josh Heuston can’t save this flimsy horror from casting adrift.
In the fifty years since Spielberg put a bloodthirsty shark in the harpoon crosshairs of Sheriff Brody, horror films have never been the same. Sharks are a genre staple, occupying their own cult-ish subgenre of ‘Sharksploitation’ films, a popcorn-inhaling, high-octane offshoot of horror that exclusively pits sharks against delicious humans in various far-fetched situations.
The priority is adrenaline – the sharks always get their way – with narrative serving as a means to force a cohort of humans into a losing battle with ravenous Great Whites. The Meg, Sharknado, and Sharktopus are the most notorious of the adrenaline-first, plot-later flicks, a trend that director Sean Byrne tries to buck in his shark-infested outing.
For Zephyr (Hassie Harrison), a free-spirited surfer touring Australia, escaping her past is all about catching waves. Travelling from coastline to coastline, she’s every but the no rules, zero responsibility archetype of a 21st century gap yearer.
Except, she’s a loner. Surfing is medicine and her top priority, something newly minted love interest, Moses (Josh Heuston), learns the hard way when she ghosts him, preferring to catch some nighttime waves than confront her feelings.
The set-up is eerily reminiscent of The O.C. or 90210 — here are two beautiful people in their late 20s, perpetually backlit by golden sun, still operating like teenagers. Their run-of-the-mill love story hints at a frustrated writer torn between all-out shark violence and quippy teen romance, though no parties involved are convincingly just out of high school.
Running parallel to the 2000s-era love story is Tucker (a knock-out Jai Courtney), the beastly owner of an ailing shark diving business by day, and wild, animalistic serial killer by night. After he kidnaps Zephyr, a twist that’s signposted from the opening minutes, we see how outrageous he really is: Tucker is ordered straight from the ‘Stock Horror Movie Baddie Catalogue’, complete with slo-mo dance sequence and an undefined motivation for killing innocents.
It’s a joy to witness Country, free of supporting actor lock-up, chewing the scenery Panto-style and having the time of his life, channeling a similar uber-masculine aura as James McAvoy in Speak No Evil. His dangerousness is magnetic, but not so irresistible that it renders the experience a worthy investment.
The sharks are the main attraction here, a gory last chance to win our intrigue and get us back on the rollercoaster. Our tentative concern for Zephyr, however, results in a clash of style; when the sharks do arrive — and their entry is delayed for an eternity — we’re given some old school horror scenes that make good on the core gimmick, but feel utterly empty.
What’s left is a barren assortment of escape attempts, CGI Hammerheads, and gruesome slaughters that were undoubtedly thrilling to construct, but fall short in all the ways that make something really hit. Even Split, another James McAvoy horror/thriller, possessed real substance whilst spinning a similarly ridiculous yarn.
At its core, there’s a great deal missing from Dangerous Animals. If ‘Sharksploitation’ filmmaking is an excuse to pit Great Whites against unsuspecting humans for maximum thrills, Byrne missed the boat. Country is a true tour de force; his spirit is infectious. Yet, the money shots — the heart-pounding moments of gritty shark violence — lack any sort of punch. Clearly Jaws, that great slab of remote controlled rubber from 1975, remains king.
- Dangerous Animals is in UK cinemas from 6 June.
