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.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


West Australian
2 hours ago
- West Australian
Hugh Jackman, Deborra-Lee Furness divvy up real estate amid divorce, including $35 million NYC apartment
As tensions heat up in their divorce, Hugh Jackman and Deborra Lee-Furness have started splitting up their real estate assets. Furness, 69, reportedly paid $11.7 million (AU$18 million) to the company that the couple used to buy their glamorous New York City penthouse in 2022 for $21 million. The luxury apartment in Manhattan's Chelsea neighbourhood is now valued at around $23 million, according to People , meaning that Furness has bought Jackman, 56, out. Property records suggest that the Australian actress made the payment on May 25, two days before she officially filed for divorce after 27 years of marriage. The three-bedroom and 3.5-bathroom apartment sprawls over 5,000 square feet across two floors, with an additional 3,700 square feet of outdoor space. It's tucked near the Hudson River in a neighbourhood known for bold facades and even bolder celebrity residents. The riverfront haven is just one of many standouts in the former couple's enviable real estate collection, which includes properties in the US, UK and at home in Australia. It is believed that they still own together a waterfront apartment overlooking the iconic Bondi Beach, a second apartment in New York City's West Village and a Hamptons beach house. The news comes after the former couple were reportedly struggling earlier this year to divvy up their estimated $250 million fortune after it was revealed they didn't have a prenup. The pair eventually reached an agreement behind the scenes. 'A settlement was reached that Deborra is pleased with, which includes a handsome spousal support payment,' a source revealed to The Daily Mail . 'There was some back and forth regarding this financial agreement, but in the end, she got what she believed she deserved. Both are coming out of this financially secure.' It is believed their marriage began to unravel during COVID, which is around the same time Jackman struck up a friendship with Sutton Foster, his co-star on the hit Broadway revival of The Music Man. In a recent statement, Furness hinted that the Wolverine star committed an act of 'betrayal', fuelling rumours that her former husband cheated on her with Foster. Furness is now reportedly planning to publish a tell-all book, which will detail her side of the divorce. Jackman is yet to release a statement about the divorce, but is believed to be 'extremely disappointed' in Furness' allegations about 'betrayal'.


Perth Now
2 hours ago
- Perth Now
Hugh Jackman, Deborra-Lee Furness split $35M NYC penthouse
As tensions heat up in their divorce, Hugh Jackman and Deborra Lee-Furness have started splitting up their real estate assets. Furness, 69, reportedly paid $11.7 million (AU$18 million) to the company that the couple used to buy their glamorous New York City penthouse in 2022 for $21 million. The luxury apartment in Manhattan's Chelsea neighbourhood is now valued at around $23 million, according to People, meaning that Furness has bought Jackman, 56, out. Property records suggest that the Australian actress made the payment on May 25, two days before she officially filed for divorce after 27 years of marriage. The three-bedroom and 3.5-bathroom apartment sprawls over 5,000 square feet across two floors, with an additional 3,700 square feet of outdoor space. It's tucked near the Hudson River in a neighbourhood known for bold facades and even bolder celebrity residents. The riverfront haven is just one of many standouts in the former couple's enviable real estate collection, which includes properties in the US, UK and at home in Australia. It is believed that they still own together a waterfront apartment overlooking the iconic Bondi Beach, a second apartment in New York City's West Village and a Hamptons beach house. The news comes after the former couple were reportedly struggling earlier this year to divvy up their estimated $250 million fortune after it was revealed they didn't have a prenup. The pair eventually reached an agreement behind the scenes. 'A settlement was reached that Deborra is pleased with, which includes a handsome spousal support payment,' a source revealed to The Daily Mail. 'There was some back and forth regarding this financial agreement, but in the end, she got what she believed she deserved. Both are coming out of this financially secure.' It is believed their marriage began to unravel during COVID, which is around the same time Jackman struck up a friendship with Sutton Foster, his co-star on the hit Broadway revival of The Music Man. In a recent statement, Furness hinted that the Wolverine star committed an act of 'betrayal', fuelling rumours that her former husband cheated on her with Foster. Furness is now reportedly planning to publish a tell-all book, which will detail her side of the divorce. Jackman is yet to release a statement about the divorce, but is believed to be 'extremely disappointed' in Furness' allegations about 'betrayal'.

The Age
9 hours ago
- The Age
From prison to the Palme d'Or: Jafar Panahi's defiant message to the world
When Jafar Panahi attended the Cannes Film Festival with his latest film, It Was Just an Accident, it was the first time the renowned director had been allowed to leave Iran in 15 years. Even after years of prosecutions, house arrest and two spells in prison, he said the most exciting thing about this sudden rush of liberty was being able to see one of his films, which are all banned in his home country, in a cinema. 'Watching the film with other people and telling myself, 'Oh wow, you were able to watch one of your films with other people!' And, of course, seeing the audience finding a rapport.' An intense rapport, as it turned out: on the closing night of the festival, Panahi was presented with the top prize, the Palme d'Or, by specially invited Cate Blanchett. Introducing the award, jury president Juliette Binoche said cinema and art are 'provocative' and mobilise 'a force that transforms darkness into forgiveness, hope and new life', which was why the jury had chosen Panahi's film. Predictably, Panahi's persecutors back in Iran didn't see it quite that way; the state television station condemned It Was Just An Accident as 'lies and smearing', while the victory caused a small but fiery diplomatic spat between Iran and France. 'I am not an art expert,' sneered foreign ministry representative Esmaeil Baqaei, 'but we believe that artistic events and art in general should not be exploited to pursue political objectives'. Like all the films Panahi has made in his years as persona non grata, It Was Just an Accident was shot and edited in secret, without the required official permits. 'I had to work in total secrecy, with only my very close crew being aware of the subject of the film and of the content of the script.' There was no point, he says, in applying for clearance to make what is perhaps his angriest film yet – and his strangest, in that it is a comedy caper about torturers and the tortured. It follows a garage mechanic, Vahid (Vahid Mobasser), who hears in the garage the uneven footsteps of his former torturer, whom he never saw through his blindfold but whom he knew had an artificial leg. He could never forget the sound of that dragging foot. Vahid becomes judge and jury. What punishment could fit this man's crimes? If, indeed, it was this man. Having kidnapped him, intending to bury him alive in the desert, Vahid starts to have doubts. Bundling his catch into his van, he goes to consult his friend and mentor, a scholarly bookshop owner, who asks him with some asperity whether he is really up for burying someone alive. But he doesn't want to decide anything; for that, he should ask the photographer who was raped by this man, who turns out to be doing a wedding shoot that day with a couple of other torture victims. Did any of them see their interrogator? No. Bride, groom and photographer join his posse, with a firm ID still no closer. It Was Just an Accident walks a knife-edge between horror and humour, which Panahi says is a very Iranian approach to the world. 'Iranians really are that way. You will be having a very serious argument about something very difficult and 10 minutes later you're having a joke about it,' he says. 'No political entity has ever been able to rid us of it and, of course, when it is included in a film, it makes the film more real.' The Islamic Republic has tried to stamp out festivals and fun of all kinds, without ever managing it. 'Just like, despite imposing the mandatory headscarf time and again, they haven't been able to stop our very progressive, courageous women.' Nothing has stopped Panahi, either. Back in 2010, he was sentenced to six years in jail for supporting anti-government protesters and creating 'propaganda against the system'. He served only two months, but he was banned from travelling outside Iran and from making films. His response was to make This Is Not a Film, a polemic on the nature of film-making shot entirely in his home on his iPhone, which made it to international festivals on a USB stick baked into a cake. Tehran Taxi (2015) was shot surreptitiously inside a moving car. It went on, in Panahi's very conspicuous absence, to win the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival. In 2022, he was arrested again when he asked awkward questions about the fate of two other imprisoned filmmakers and, as a consequence, was ordered to serve the rest of his 2010 sentence. He was in prison for seven months, undergoing repeated interrogation sessions, but was released in February 2023, his sentence considered served and the previous travel and work bans lifted. He then set about turning his experience – and the stories he heard from his fellow prisoners, some of whom had been incarcerated for 15 years – into It Was Just an Accident. Other Iranian filmmakers have seized opportunities such as Cannes to get out of the country for good. Panahi, however, immediately made it clear that he would never leave Iran and was heading back as soon as the festival was over. 'I have no ability to adapt to a new country, a new culture,' he said. 'Many of those outside Iran did not leave of their own volition; they are in an imposed exile. I don't see myself as capable of living outside Iran or courageous enough to do so.' The day after he collected his Palme, Instagram showed his return to Tehran, where a small crowd of well-wishers – including many bare-headed women – were waiting at the airport with a garland of flowers ready to put over his shoulders. He was home. Somewhat disingenuously, Panahi insists on defining his films as 'social' rather than political. To call them political is a misnomer that is itself politically motivated, he says. 'I think a political film has a very clear attachment to a party, a very specific stance and pursues a specific political agenda, but you will never see an entirely positive or entirely negative character in any of my films,' he says. 'The real problem is the superstructure, the government that turns people into something they are not. What I do in my films is show people the way they are and highlight the circumstances that might have led them to be the way they are.' This is, for example, the first of his films to show women with their hair uncovered, which he says reflects the fact that when he was released from prison, what struck him was the number of women in public without headscarves. The characters in the film reflect different stances – one who speaks in slogans, another who is more conciliatory – reflecting the real-life characters he met in prison. 'I even allowed an interrogator to speak for himself, and explain his ideology, his aims.' The Iranian authorities, needless to say, take a different view. Panahi started his film-making career making television and as an assistant director to Abbas Kiarostami. His first film as a director, The White Balloon, was a gentle story of slum children that won the Camera d'Or in Cannes in 1995. The Iranian film authority duly nominated The White Balloon as the country's Oscar entry, then decided it was critical of the regime and banned Panahi from travelling to the United States or speaking to the press. By the time he came to make The Circle, a round of interlocking stories about Iranian women that won the Golden Lion in Venice in 2000, he was officially on the outer. The Circle, along with all his subsequent films, was banned in Iran. Loading The experience of interrogation, remembered by various characters in It Was Just an Accident, echoes his own. During his months of imprisonment, he was questioned for hours every day as to why he would make the films he does. He imitates their tirades. ''You're selling out! You're giving your country a bad reputation! You are a traitor!'' A lot of discussion, he says with irony. Like the people in his film, he is haunted by that disembodied voice. 'When the interrogator has sat you very close to the wall, blindfolded you in such a way that you can only see enough from the corner of your eye to write on a piece of paper and is standing behind you, you do wonder: who is this? What does he look like, how old is he, what does he believe?' Loading In theory, Panahi's suspended sentence is now officially served, and he should be free to apply for permission to make films legitimately. 'I think I just did what my sentence required, which was that I was banned from film-making for 20 years,' he says. 'I did 16 years of it; I think they could not renew this sentence as it came to an end.' But that doesn't mean he has been given more latitude. He will continue to film in secret; as he said in an interview with Variety during the festival, the authorities make up laws as they go. Will he be arrested again? Or confined to home? Nothing is certain, except that Jafar Panahi will continue, one way or another, to make films.