Hobart hits: Eight new restaurants, bakeries and bars in the Tassie capital
After a short hiatus, Australia's most outlandish arts festival, Dark Mofo, is ready to once more engulf Hobart in June. Whether you're heading south for the festivities, or just planning a winter weekender in Tassie, there's been an influx of new dining and drinking destinations worth your while. From an exceptional bakery, to a nine-seat ramen bar, to an energetic diner by a chef with serious Tasmanian pride, here are eight new openings to have on your radar.
Scholé, CBD
Chef Luke Burgess was at the cutting edge when he co-opened Garagistes in Hobart in 2010, championing natural wine and hyperlocal produce. It closed in 2015, but a decade later Burgess is back with Scholé, a Japanese-influenced restaurant and wine bar in an old lolly shop.
A meal at the 10-person communal table – a golden glow and timber cladding all around – feels like a sake-fuelled dinner party. The menu changes frequently, but a recent standout was skilfully sliced garfish and pike sashimi in a fermented green tomato and sansho pepper sauce. Bookings are essential, except on Tuesday nights, when it channels tachinomi – Japanese-style standing bars.
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The Advertiser
6 hours ago
- The Advertiser
Stories should do more than scare us. They should wake us up
This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working." This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to It was another ordinary Sunday evening in November 1983 when more than 100 million Americans and many others around the world sat in the comfort of their living rooms watching the end of the world. For the next few hours they looked on in horror as humanity's worst nightmare unfolded. Children were turned to ash, cities to dust and vast regions of the planet destroyed as a series of nuclear strikes plunged civilisation into a barbaric new Stone Age. The Day After was a television movie unlike any other; its primetime depiction of the savage aftermath of nuclear warfare traumatised so many that counselling helplines were inundated. Ronald Reagan, the US president at the time, scribbled in his diary that the film left him depressed. The movie was credited with nudging him toward arms control negotiations that, a few years later, culminated in an historic nuclear reduction treaty with the USSR that helped end the Cold War. The Day After's lesson? Never underestimate the power of storytelling. We have always clung to fables, myths and parables to help us make sense of the world. It's why sober charts and statistics never quite stir the soul like the visceral emotion of believable characters trapped in unimaginable scenarios. But despite the existence of so many more existential threats now facing us - the world's nuclear stockpile is rising again, climate change grows more extreme and scientists increasingly warn of the menace of artificial intelligence and future pandemics - it's difficult to imagine any film packing the same punch these days as The Day After. We're suffering doomsday fatigue. Our nights are saturated with the end of days. Apocalyptic movies and TV series depicting dystopian futures fill our screens, social media algorithms feed us worst-case scenarios to keep us scrolling and an unrelenting 24-hour news cycle amplifies catastrophes and threats. Studies show that relentless warnings about melting ice caps, mutant viruses, economic collapse and Terminator-style machines creates society-wide emotional burnout, making us less likely to stand in the street and demand change, even when many threats are real and, like climate devastation, imminent or already with us. Let me be the first to plead guilty. After three weeks in the Arctic last year crossing melting glaciers and discovering polar bears were foraging in rubbish bins for food as their ecosystem collapses, I returned home eager to prosecute the case for change. A succession of glazed eyes and patient yawns quickly blunted that enthusiasm. Surely, though, there must be a way to reignite the same global sense of urgency that sprang out of The Day After. It's why you should watch Television Event - a brilliant documentary now streaming on SBS that revisits that Sunday evening of collective dread in 1983 when a fictional drama with lousy special effects by modern standards crawled inside the world's psyche, triggering worldwide demonstrations that piled on the pressure for nuclear disarmament. The infamous Doomsday Clock is now at its closest point ever to midnight - just 89 seconds away, according to the latest update by the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. Yet our sense of alarm has never felt more muted. We can blame it on doomsday fatigue. But that's the easy way out. If charts, statistics and endless warnings of Armageddon alone won't shift us, it's time to reimagine the way we talk about these threats. Instead of more apocalyptic tales of destruction and despair, we need human stories that refuse to let us off the hook; tales that show us the lives of those on the front lines of rising seas or within reach of ballistic missiles; stories to remind us that no one is immune and that the consequences won't be confined to someone else's time zone. We need more solution-focused journalism highlighting what's working, not just what's going wrong. The social media giants need to show greater responsibility with algorithms (try not to laugh too loudly) that would help amplify a sense of progress, not just panic. And instead of focusing on the potential devastation we face, we need to relentlessly ask one basic question: what are you prepared to do about it? That Doomsday Clock is ticking. Apathy is no longer a refuge but a death sentence. If we shouldn't underestimate the power of storytelling, nor should we underestimate the power of collective action. Now, more than ever, we need stories that do more than scare us. We need stories that wake us up. HAVE YOUR SAY: Do you suffer from Doomsday Fatigue or have you found an antidote? What other solutions could jolt our current apathy toward climate change and other existential threats? Do you remember when The Day After first screened in Australia and, if so, what was your reaction? Email us: echidna@ SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too. IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: - Ocean temperatures in the south-west Pacific reached fresh highs in 2024 as heatwaves struck more than 10 per cent of the world's marine waters. - Federal police should take over the investigation into the death in custody of a young Aboriginal man as a "step towards healing and justice", an Indigenous MP says. - People who want to learn more about their family's service in the Australia military will have easier access to priceless records at a new research centre at the Australian War Memorial. THEY SAID IT: "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein YOU SAID IT: When he noticed a hole in his cargo pants, John realised they had lasted longer than World War II. It was a reminder of the false economy of fast fashion. Mike owns a rarely worn 1970s suit bought in Hong Kong: "Still can't throw it out. It's not clothing anymore; more of an heirloom. Meanwhile, a velvet dress from the same era, my wife retains, still gets invited to events and still turns heads. Her dress is living its best life. My suit's still waiting for a '70s revival tour." John gets 20 years' wear out of a T-shirt by observing four cycles: "1: Only wear out socially. When I get home, I immediately take off and replace with; 2: home clothes which are good enough to go out shopping with; 3: When these clothes are no longer fit to even go to the local Bunnings store, I just wear them for yard and handyman jobs around the house; 4: When totally threadbare they are ripped up for rags." Chris, who's become a dab hand at mending so his clothes last longer, writes: "I applaud your article here on saving clothing costs while working from home because that's exactly what happens. I've worked out of home for more than 30 years and there's nothing more comfortable than having nice, clean but older and well worn clothes to wear while working."
Sydney Morning Herald
6 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Melbourne's cafes have always been world-class. But in 2025 they've got even better
When Australians go overseas, it usually sparks a lightbulb moment: we take our morning routines seriously. While many other cities sleep, in Australia we're seizing the day with run clubs and coffee, or stopping at our favourite cafe for babycinos and a shared croissant en route to school and work. Weekend brunch tables are booked well ahead. People's devotion to their daily cafe visit borders on spiritual. There are more than 100 of these cornerstones of our social lives gathered in Good Food's Essential Melbourne Cafes and Bakeries 2025, presented by T2 and published today. The guide celebrates the people and places that shape our excellent cafe and bakery scenes and includes more than 100 venues reviewed anonymously across 10 categories, including icons, those best for food, tea, coffee and matcha, and where to get the city's best sweets, sandwiches and baked goods. These reviews live on the Good Food app, and can be discovered on the map. Skimming the list it's clear that, even if cafes are quintessential, they're far from standard-issue these days. Thick slabs of tamago (the firm Japanese omelette) are almost as likely as swirls of scrambled eggs. Rice and flatbread jostle for space with sourdough. Shades of purple, green and pink are seen in drinks and on pastries. 'Brunch and coffee have always been a significant part of Melbourne culture and the pride of every Melburnian,' says Tuan To, co-owner of Amara in Seddon, which he opened in April with a Vietnamese-skewed all-day menu. 'I thought why not bring [together] the two and create something new yet familiar.' Amara's signature dish might be a steel pan of runny-yolked eggs with pâté, sweet stir-fried beef and pickles. The crusty baguette on the side can turn it into a banh mi-esque experience.
The Age
7 hours ago
- The Age
Sharks, a serial killer and Cannes glory. This Aussie film bites deep
There was pandemonium in the Theatre Croisette, home of the Cannes Film Festival's Directors' Fortnight, before and after the screening of Australian film Dangerous Animals, announced as the first 'shark movie' ever to screen at the festival. Admittedly, the audience was stacked with mates – you could tell, because clustered cheers went up for the various production companies credited at the beginning – but there were also a lot of horror fans, including press colleagues who live for jump scares, gore and villains getting their comeuppance. A journalist and critic from Poland, who is one of those horror buffs, told me she was sitting next to the woman who screamed loudly enough to fill the auditorium every time we saw a fin or fang. That just added to the joy, as far as she was concerned. Like everyone, she had clapped for a full nine minutes when the final credits rolled and Sean Byrne, the Tasmanian director, brought his cast up on stage. Dangerous Animals delivers on a popular menu of genre expectations, starting with the maxim that Australia is full of creatures that can kill you. It is set on the Gold Coast, where ostentatiously Ocker skipper Bruce Tucker (Jai Courtney) takes tourists out to swim with sharks, protected inside a metal cage. From the first minute, it's clear that Tucker is too much like a carbon copy of Steve Irwin to be true. Of course, he's a serial killer who preys on backpackers away on their own, ties them up and dangles them over the water in a harness of his own design and films them as they're torn to bits. Tucker himself was mauled by a Great White as a boy. Now he sees himself as a victorious apex predator. His big mistake is picking on Hassie Harrison's Zephyr, a surfer who has purposefully drifted a long way from her American home. When she hooks up with Moses (Sydney actor Josh Heuston), something clicks between them – so that when she goes missing, there is someone local who is looking for her. She is also a fighter. 'It's so fun to play a character with that badass-ery and swagger,' says Harrison. 'It comes pretty close to home for me, growing up spending a lot of time in nature. I'd already been to Australia about 10 times. Being a Texan, I feel we're very kindred spirits.' You can anticipate fatal turns in the plot, which is part of the pleasure; there is also fun to be had spotting those conventions and the sprinkling of quotes from other films. There are plenty of jokes and grisly bits of ick. 'Music to my ears,' says Byrne of that screamer in the audience. 'You work so hard on these moments, giving the audience permission to be scared, but also to have a good time.' It was always supposed to be fun. Byrne's previous features, The Loved Ones and The Devil's Candy, were lower-budget US horrors. 'This was a big step-up in terms of budget and logistics, with underwater filming,' he says. 'I'm a massive fan of '80s action cinema like Die Hard and Speed. A lot of horror films are slow-burn or mood pieces, but mine tend to be fast-paced, so it's almost kind of action horror. Survival horror, in this case.' With some romance and comedy tropes, he adds; he likes the mix of genres. Until this festival, I had no idea that 'shark films' constituted a sub-genre in themselves, with Steven Spielberg's Jaws as the daddy. 'There's no bigger cinematic shadow than Jaws,' Byrne agrees. 'But at the same time, what a great reference point! I kept coming back to Jaws and the power of the fin. Shooting in the middle of the night, open sea, and there's a young person screaming for his or her life, it can creep through the armour. Jai Courtney The fin is almost the definition of suspense. If you see a fin above water, moving around, that is foreshadowing terror. Then, when the fin goes underwater, you are anticipating the attack, but the audience can't see what's happening. You've got them! I feel that has been lost a little bit in shark films recently, where you see dozens of sharks underwater, sometimes with their faces animated in an angry human way. I wanted something more like documentary reality.' Loading Most importantly, the sharks in this movie are not the villains. Humans are cruel, possibly psychotic, sometimes just criminally negligent. Sharks are beautiful, stately princes of the sea, albeit princes with a lot of teeth. 'I've never seen that in a shark film, so that was an incredibly exciting opportunity,' enthuses Byrne. Nick Lepard, who wrote the script, is married to a marine biologist; the film is full of facts about sharks, including the news that they don't actually like the taste of human flesh. 'I think it's such a breath of fresh air that the sharks are not the monster,' says Byrne. 'A man is the monster.' Heuston says his impression, when he read the original script, was that Dangerous Animals would be more arthouse fare. 'When we started filming though, it became much more of a genre film.' He puts this largely down to Courtney, who brought an outsize dynamism and humour to the character of Tucker. Harrison agrees. 'There's a levity he brings to the table. When I came on, they were talking about casting other people ... another actor would have taken it to a really dark place, whereas [Courtney's] performance is so funny I was often laughing on the other side of the camera.' Courtney found it quite dark enough. 'Some of the acts Tucker commits, some of the way he does things, we have young actors hanging on a hook over the open water and when you're ... shooting in the middle of the night, open sea out on a boat, and there's a young person screaming for his or her life, it can occasionally creep through the armour of separating that from reality. And there were definitely moments in this film when I was saying right, can we get this done?' Filming on water is difficult enough. Cameras rock along with the boat, actors and crew get seasick, the space is confined. Byrne didn't want to film in a tank, however. For a start, he says, the tank cost a prohibitive $80,000 a day. Secondly, he says tanks feel sterile. They're just big bathtubs, after all. 'Whereas filming at sea is really hard but exciting as well. It's really hard to replicate Mother Nature, with wind and salt and water hitting you in the face. Also, when we put the actors up on the crane and swung them out over the water, doing it for real gave it an immediacy and a primal quality we would never have got in a tank. But it was difficult. I think I'm one and done as far as shooting a film on water goes.' He never imagined, he says, that they would end up in Cannes. It is true that a diverse bunch of successes, ranging from Wolf Creek to The Babadook to Talk to Me, have put Australian horror on the international map. 'We've got some great genre filmmakers,' says Byrne. 'And I think Australia is getting a reputation internationally for being attacking.' He had thought they would do well in the market. 'That combination of shark film and serial killer film, I sensed that would sell well. This is a risk-averse industry, but you are ticking two very popular boxes.' He had a handle on its demographic. 'But I didn't expect it to end up in the festival,' he says. 'Because when you think of Cannes, you just don't think of shark films.'
