Sean Byrne, the Australian lunatic directing Dangerous Animals, has a knack for unhinged horror, with cult hits like The Loved Ones (2009), a prom-night bloodbath, and The Devil’s Candy (2015), a metal-fueled supernatural nightmare. His work thrives on raw, visceral energy, earning him a Cannes Directors’ Fortnight slot for this film. Screenwriter Nick Lepard, less seasoned, has a co-writing credit on the upcoming Keeper (directed by Oz Perkins), showing promise in crafting twisted premises. Byrne’s festival cred (Cannes 2025 premiere) and Lepard’s fresh voice suggest they’re swinging for bold, but their inexperience as a team risks a shaky execution. Still, their indie roots scream passion, not corporate cash-grab.

Zephyr (Hassie Harrison), a tough-as-nails American surfer bumming around Australia’s Gold Coast, lands in hot water when she’s kidnapped by Tucker (Jai Courtney), a shark-obsessed boat captain with a sick hobby: feeding tourists to great whites while filming the carnage on VHS. Trapped on his rusty death-trap of a boat, Zephyr must outwit this unhinged predator and his toothy pets before she’s chum. Alongside her, other victims like Heather (Ella Newton) fight for survival, while a fleeting romance with local Moses (Josh Heuston) adds a spark of hope. This survival horror blends serial-killer thrills with creature-feature chaos, set against the sun-soaked Coral Sea, delivering a bloody, claustrophobic ride that’s as much about human monsters as the ones swimming below.

Dangerous Animals sinks its teeth into the primal fear of being devoured, by sharks, sure, but also by the darker impulses of humanity. The film’s core theme is predation, exploring how trauma (Tucker’s childhood shark attack) can twist someone into a monster who preys on others. Tucker’s boat, a rusted cage floating in the vast ocean, symbolizes isolation and entrapment, mirroring Zephyr’s own rootless existence as a drifter running from her past. The VHS tapes he uses to record his kills are a chilling nod to voyeurism, reflecting society’s obsession with spectacle over empathy, a subtle jab at our true-crime fixation. This thematic depth, though, feels half-baked, as the script doesn’t dig deep enough into Tucker’s psyche or Zephyr’s resilience to make the commentary sing.

Shelley Farthing-Dawe’s cinematography is a standout, turning the Coral Sea into a paradox: gorgeous yet menacing, with sun-bleached days and inky underwater shots that pulse with dread. The camera’s tight framing on the boat amplifies the claustrophobia, while shark attacks blend practical effects and VFX for visceral thrills. Lepard’s script, however, is a mixed bag. Snappy quips and Tucker’s deranged monologues (think “Baby Shark” sung by a psychopath) clash with clunky exposition that spells out the “humans are the real monsters” theme like it’s afraid you’ll miss it. The writing style aims for pulpy fun but leans too hard on genre tropes, diluting its potential to be a truly weird, daring standout. It’s a film that wants to provoke but stops short of unraveling the full horror of its ideas, leaving you craving a sharper bite.

Let’s not bullshit: Dangerous Animals is a wild ride, and its originality lies in its gonzo premise, mashing serial-killer horror with shark movie mayhem is a batshit idea that mostly works. Jai Courtney’s Tucker is the film’s bloody heart, a charismatic psycho who dances in his skivvies and sings about sharks while feeding tourists to them. His unhinged glee is magnetic, elevating a potentially flat villain into a horror icon you love to hate. Hassie Harrison’s Zephyr is no slouch either, a scrappy final girl whose physicality and grit make her a believable survivor, not just a scream queen. The indie production shines through in the practical effects, gory, squelching shark attacks that feel like a love letter to Jaws without copying it. The boat setting is a masterstroke, turning a single location into a pressure cooker of tension.

But the pacing is a mess. The first act zips by with Tucker’s kills, but the second drags like a barnacle-covered anchor, with repetitive cat-and-mouse games that overstay their welcome. By the third act, the film runs aground, rushing a finale that feels more like a fizzle than a frenzy. The script’s reliance on familiar tropes, sadistic killer, plucky heroine, disposable side characters, makes it feel less daring than it thinks it is. Secondary characters like Heather and Moses are underdeveloped, existing as plot fodder rather than fully fleshed-out people. The horror is solid but uneven; the shark attacks deliver visceral shocks, but the psychological dread of Tucker’s sadism isn’t mined deeply enough to haunt you. It’s a film that swings for weird and original but gets tangled in genre conventions, like a shark caught in a net. For an indie horror, it’s got guts, but it lacks the audacity to be truly groundbreaking. You’ll cheer, you’ll wince, but you won’t lose sleep.

TL;DR: Dangerous Animals is a pulpy, blood-soaked indie horror that blends serial-killer thrills with shark movie chaos. Jai Courtney’s maniacal villain and gritty visuals shine, but predictable tropes and uneven pacing blunt its bite. A fun, flawed freakshow for horror fans.