Latest news with #OceanRamsey
CNET
10-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CNET
Netflix Jumped In on the Shark Week Action in July, Landing Two New Hits
Every week, Netflix unveils its Top 10 lists for the week before, ranking TV shows and movies by viewership. One of this week's most-streamed movies is Shark Whisperer, a documentary about marine conservationist Ocean Ramsey (her given name), who regularly swims with sharks and encourages others to do so to educate people. That film, along with another new shark-related title, the reality competition series All the Sharks (currently trending at No. 2 in Kids TV on the platform), arrived in the past few weeks, giving audiences a jump on some early Shark Week programming. Except, as you're probably aware, Shark Week is a Discovery thing and is back for its 37th year. Shark Week officially runs this year from July 20-26 and features more than 20 new specials or shows about one of the most deadly and/or misunderstood creatures around. However, the franchise has been so successful that it's no surprise other platforms, like Netflix, want a piece of the action. Not only has Netflix released these two original titles to great success in the past two weeks, but you can also catch all four Jaws films on the platform starting on July 15 (that film is celebrating its 50th anniversary and is also available on Peacock as of this summer, which makes it feel like an especially momentous season for sharks). You can also catch a documentary, Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story, about the making of the film, which streams on Hulu and Disney Plus this Friday. That film is part of Nat Geo's Sharkfest slate of programming, which has been running this week and is a different beast from Shark Week... even though it's all about the same beast. (It really feels like ABC missed an opportunity by not airing new episodes of Shark Tank this summer. Someone dropped the ball.) After 37 years of programming, it's hard to believe Shark Week hasn't actually jumped the shark (although there is a new show hosted by Tom Bergeron called Dancing With Sharks that actually features divers "dancing" with sharks... but I admit my curiosity is piqued). Shark Week appears stronger than ever and seems to have unofficially become Shark Month thanks to the shows that Netflix and other platforms have already released. To be clear, Netflix never officially said it's a Shark Week competitor; it's just been savvy about scheduling its new programs when people might be looking for shark content -- and it turns out there's room for all of them. If we've learned anything in the past 50 years, it's that it's never a bad thing to have a bigger boat.
Malay Mail
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Malay Mail
Netflix's ‘Shark Whisperer' wants us to think ‘sexy conservation' is the way to save sharks — does it have a point?
SYDNEY, July 10 — In the new Netflix documentary Shark Whisperer, the great white shark gets an image makeover — from Jaws villain to misunderstood friend and admirer. But the star of the documentary is not so much the shark, but the model and marine conservationist Ocean Ramsey (yes, that's her real name). The film centres on Ramsey's self-growth journey, with the shark co-starring as a quasi-spiritual medium for finding meaning and purpose (not to mention celebrity status). The film, and some in it, are happy to attribute Ramsey's success as a shark conservation activist to how driven and photogenic she is. Ramsey says 'People look first and listen second. I'll use my appearance, I'll put myself out there for a cause.' Her husband, the photographer Juan Oliphant, enthuses she is good for sharks partly because she is so beautiful and uses all the attention she attracts in the selfless service of sharks. The image of the long-haired, long-limbed young woman in a bikini swimming above an outsized great white shark is not a new one. Primal fears and fantasies Since Jaws (1975), generations have been fascinated and titillated by filmic images and promotional materials of bikini-clad young women juxtaposed with dangerous sharks. The heroine of Deep Blue Sea (1999) is a neuroscientist — however the film and its promotional materials still require her to appear in a wet t-shirt and underwear while pursued by a massive shark monster. The Shallows (2016) presents countless images of its bikini-clad heroine, with partially exposed bottom and long legs marked by bite marks as a kind of meat to be consumed — not least by the voyeuristic lens of the camera. The poster for 47 Meters Down: Uncaged (2019) features a bikini-clad young woman with legs dangling precariously in front of the gaping jaws of an unnaturally large great white. I have previously explored the psychosexual symbolism of these films and images. These films were never really about actual sharks. They are about very human fears and fantasies about being exposed and vulnerable. Whisperer and the Ocean Ramsey website tap into the collective fascination with dangerous sharks fuelled by popular culture. Many online images show Ramsey in a bikini or touching sharks — she's small, and vulnerable in the face of great whites. As with forms of celebrity humanitarianism, what I have dubbed 'sexy conservationism' leaves itself open to criticism about its methods — even if its intentions are good. The paradox of Shark Whisperer — and indeed the whole Ocean Ramsey empire — is it both resists and relies on Jaws mythology and iconography to surf the image economy of new media. Saving, not stalking Ramsey and Oliphant are on a mission not just to save individual sharks, but to change the public perception of great whites to a more positive one. This mission is reiterated in Shark Whisperer and in the Saving Jaws documentary linked to the website, which also promotes a book, accessories and shark-diving tours. It is reassuring to know proceeds from the bikini you buy from the official website are donated to shark conservation. But the (often sexualised) media attention which fuels the whole enterprise still depends on tapping into the legacy of popular culture representations of great whites as fearsome monsters. In footage, Ramsey seems to spend most of her time with smaller tiger sharks, yet her website and the Shark Whisperer film foreground her rare close encounters with an 'enormous' or 'massive' great white as the climax and cover shot. Shark Whisperer also includes the kind of 'money shots' we have come to expect: images of a large great white tearing at flesh (here, a whale carcass) with blood in the water. Images like these arouse our collective cultural memory of the filmic great white as the ultimate bestial predator. In its climactic scene, Whisperer strategically deploys eerie music to build the suspense and foretell the appearance of the enormous great white which rises from the depths. Again echoes of Jaws are used to stimulate viewing pleasures and sell the mixed messages of sexy shark conservation. A story of (personal) growth The self-growth narrative which underpins Whisperer will feel familiar to shark film fans. Jaws was always about overcoming fears and past traumas, as in the scene where Quint and Brody compare their real and metaphorical scars. Over the past decade, a new generation of post-feminist shark films have used sharks as metaphorical stalkers to tell stories about women overcoming past trauma, grief, 'inner darkness' or depression. In The Reef: Stalked (2022) the heroine must overcome the murder of her sister. In Shark Bait (2022) the heroine must rise above a cheating partner. In The Shallows, the heroine is processing grief. Whisperer also leans into the idea of Ramsey fighting inner demons on a journey to self-actualisation. And while Ramsey has undoubtedly raised the profile of shark conservation, as a model-designer-conservationist-entrepreneur she has also disseminated another more dubious message: that the way to enact influence and activism is through Instagrammable images of beautiful models in high-risk situations. Happy endings The end credits of Whisperer are a montage of happy endings: Ramsey frolics with sharks and shows off her diamond ring. There is even an ocean-themed wedding scene. Yet beneath all the glossy surface lies a sombre reality: globally at least 80 million sharks are killed every year. The Ramsey website and the film rightly remind us of this. They also remind us that, thanks in part to the hashtag activism of Ocean Ramsey and her millions of fans and followers, Hawaii was the first state in the United States to outlaw shark fishing. So, Ramsey may be right to argue her ends justify the means. — Reuters
Time Magazine
09-07-2025
- Politics
- Time Magazine
'Shark Whisperer' Villainizes Native Hawaiians Like Me
I only found out about the new Netflix documentary Shark Whisperer because my social media notifications exploded. I had been tagged in posts by people calling me anti-shark and anti-environment. I was confused, until I watched the film. There I was, portrayed as the antagonist. I served as Chair of Hawaii's House Committee on Ocean, Marine Resources and Hawaiian Affairs, the body featured in the documentary for holding hearings on shark protection legislation. What the film doesn't show is that I was one the earliest and strongest champions of the bill that banned shark fishing. I called for a hearing when others hesitated. I moved the bill to a vote despite resistance from House leadership. I worked hard to secure the support needed to pass it. But in the documentary, Native Hawaiians like myself—lawmakers, kūpuna (elders), and local researchers—are reduced to obstacles. We are either tokenized or vilified, while a single outsider (in this case, social media activist Ocean Ramsey) is framed as the story's savior. This isn't just a misrepresentation. It reflects a deeper pattern in the way mainstream documentaries often frame their stories: who is cast as the subject, and who is cast as the object. Whose knowledge is celebrated, and whose is pushed aside. I grew up freediving off the coast of Maui, spearfishing for fish and heʻe (octopus), and encountering manō (sharks) regularly. These weren't adrenaline-fueled stunts. They were sacred moments. In our tradition, the shark is not something to be humanized or monetized. It is our aumākua, a family guardian. We do not stalk them, name them, or treat them like pets. We show respect. We let the manō come to us. Later as a young lawmaker representing my community, I began to see how depleted our waters had become. Fish stocks were declining, coral was dying, and ocean commercialization was pushing native species to the edge. I didn't take on shark protection because it was politically easy. It wasn't. Many commercial fishermen opposed it. Colleagues warned me not to push it. But I moved forward anyway because the ocean raised me. I owed it that much. Shark Whisperer claims to honor marine life, but it often confuses reverence with control. It reduces wild, sacred beings to characters in a human-centered story, mistaking closeness for connection. But in our culture, true respect often means keeping a sacred distance. Not everything powerful needs to be tamed. Every creature holds its own essence and role in the web of life, whether or not it reflects us. To honor them is to let go of the need to dominate or display, and simply let them be. That's what makes the film's focus on Ramsey so troubling. Not just because it elevates her as the lone protector of Hawaii's sharks, but because it blurs the line between advocacy and appropriation. In a recent Instagram post, Ramsey referenced the honor of receiving ʻuhi, a sacred tattoo ceremony traditionally reserved for Native Hawaiians. She described it as a 'symbol of her kuleana and heritage', claiming a cultural lineage that simply isn't hers. Beyond this, her academic background is unclear. Her origin is often vague. What is clear is that she lacks the trust of the local community. Many advocates believe her involvement actually delayed the passage of the shark protection law. Her presence casted doubt on the credibility of the broader coalition. And some supporters hesitated to show up, concerned their advocacy would be associated with what many saw as her disrespect toward Native Hawaiians and local fishers. And now, with an even larger platform, her example risks being imitated. And if others will mimic her tactics, our voices, the ones rooted in generations of lived experience and cultural knowledge, may be drowned out. The truth is, Kānaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) ocean protectors have been doing this work for generations. They've done it with fewer followers, without sponsorships or stunts, and without turning our aumākua into content or cash. Our true Kahu Manō (shark whisperers) may never get a documentary deal or millions of views, but they carry the knowledge that sustains life in our waters and our communities. They are who we turn to. They are who we trust. Netflix had the opportunity to center their voices. Instead, it followed a formula weʻve seen many times before. In The White Helmets, Western filmmakers crafted a humanitarian narrative in Syria that largely erased local organizing and failed to contextualize the complex geopolitical forces involved. In The Rescue, Thai cave divers were spotlighted over the Indigenous local volunteers who led much of the initial effort. And in The Ivory Game, African anti-poaching leaders were overshadowed by European conservationists with camera crews and sponsorships. These films may have had good intentions, but they reflect a pattern: the white outsider as savior, the local or Indigenous people as backdrop or obstacle. This kind of framing doesn't just distort the truth, it disempowers communities. It reinforces a system in which those closest to the harm are furthest from the platform, and those furthest from the culture are handed the microphone. But it doesn't have to be that way. Good allyship begins with humility. It means showing up in solidarity, not for visibility. It means knowing when to speak, and when to step back and amplify those with lived experience and ancestral ties—especially when the work involves sacred beings, sacred practices, and sacred places. We're not asking to be centered in every story. We're asking not to be erased from our own. We are not the villain. And neither is the manō.
Times
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
I am the shark whisperer — but my critics call me ‘plain old crazy'
From the brilliant azure of the Pacific Ocean emerges a giant of the deep, its black eyes and pale belly gliding silently through the water. For most, the sight of an approaching great white shark would trigger terror and an urge to escape as quickly as possible. But Ocean Ramsey is not like most swimmers. She is a 'shark influencer', a former model who posts viral videos of her petting the terrifying maneaters to her 2.2 million followers on Instagram. Now her work is the subject of a Netflix documentary by an Oscar-winning director, titled Shark Whisperer, that has drawn withering denunciation from critics. In the eyes of her fans, she is a heroic campaigner for animal welfare. To wildlife experts, she is a shameless self-promoter who glamorises reckless risk-taking and puts lives in danger.
Times
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
I am the shark whisperer — my critics are just jealous
From the brilliant azure of the Pacific Ocean emerges a giant of the deep, its black eyes and pale belly gliding silently through the water. For most, the sight of an approaching great white shark would trigger terror and an urge to escape as quickly as possible. But Ocean Ramsey is not like most swimmers. She is a 'shark influencer', a former model who posts viral videos of her petting the terrifying maneaters to her 2.2 million followers on Instagram. Now her work is the subject of a Netflix documentary by an Oscar-winning director, titled Shark Whisperer, that has drawn withering denunciation from critics. In the eyes of her fans, she is a heroic campaigner for animal welfare. To wildlife experts, she is a shameless self-promoter who glamorises reckless risk-taking and puts lives in danger. In an interview with The Times this week, Ramsey insisted she was raising awareness of sharks as misunderstood beasts. She said some of the criticism was fuelled by jealousy of her appearance in swimwear. Scientists disagree. 'I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a legitimate scientist or conservation advocate who thinks she's anything but harmful,' said Professor David Shiffman, a marine biologist based in Washington. This view is echoed around the scientific community. Dr Chris Lowe, marine biologist and director of the shark lab at California State University, Long Beach, says: 'If you talk to any wildlife expert, they're going to tell you that you shouldn't touch animals, period. 'It just makes people think of them like pets, and they're not — they behave completely differently. Sharks don't need to be hugged, they don't want to be hugged. They don't even want to be touched. It's cavalier, it's presumptuous, and it's just a matter of time before somebody gets hurt.' The accusations do not bother Ramsey, who is in her thirties. 'I know that it's there and I know it's going to be there,' she says of criticism. 'It doesn't matter if you're Mother Teresa and you're trying to do the best thing in the world, which is what I feel like I'm trying to do.' • 80m sharks killed and sold as 'mystery meat' 'There's always a risk of copycat behaviour,' Shiffman says of fans viewing her videos and underestimating the danger posed by sharks. But, she adds, 'I don't think anyone watches a video of somebody that's an expert at riding a motorcycle or skydiving or doing anything as a professional in extreme situations and thinks, 'Oh, I watched this one movie, so I'm going to go try it.' Most people have common sense.' Ramsey has spent her life in the water. Her parents were both divers — Ocean is in fact her birth name — and she grew up in Hawaii, from where she works as a conservationist. She has more than 2.2 million Instagram followers eager to devour videos of her underwater close encounters. Ramsey, has worked as a professional runway model, owns a sustainable swimwear line and has dabbled in Hollywood stunt work, suggests some of the criticism she faces stems from her status as a woman working in science. Trolls often comment on the swimsuits she wears. 'Showing her ass,' as one commenter featured in the Netflix documentary said. Ramsey shrugs off the complaints as the grumblings of 'jealous or hateful' social media trolls. Lowe and other shark experts level more substantive criticisms than Ramsey's choice of bikini. Approaching sharks in the wild not only endangers swimmers but the fish too, they argue. Every shark attack damages the species' public reputation, harming conservation efforts. 'We don't really understand why if you're out [in the water] minding your own business a shark comes up and bites you,' Lowe says. 'But that's very different from you approaching a shark or getting close enough to where you want to pet it, or chase the shark to ride it. That's just plain old crazy.' Ramsey counters that the affinity with marine life she has developed since childhood means she can co-exist peacefully with the animals she adores. 'I've been around them so much that I've been able to learn their body language,' she says, adding that she can spot small cues signifying danger. 'That gives me a big heads-up on how inquisitive they might be, how disinterested they might be, what maybe their temperament is at that moment.' Lowe disagrees. Even dogs, which humans have domesticated for thousands of years, still attack, he points out, so no matter how experienced a diver is the risk of a shark bite is always significant. Ramsey, who uses her profile to raise awareness of declining shark populations, hopes the Netflix documentary will help fight the so-called Jaws effect. Spielberg's 1975 movie ushered in the era of the summer blockbuster but, according to experts, may have harmed conservation efforts due to its depiction of great whites as unstoppable killing machines. About 274,000 sharks are killed around the world each day, many targeted for their fins. Yet Ramsey senses a shift in global public opinion. The US and UK banned the buying and selling of shark fins in 2023. 'I'm glad to be a part of it, I feel like that's my whole point and purpose of being alive right now,' Ramsey says. Given the danger she puts herself in, fans and detractors fear disaster could strike. • Swimmer braves shark-infested waters to mark 50 years of Jaws If the worst were to happen, Ramsey only hopes that she is blamed and not the sharks. 'I've had an incredible life,' she says. 'I've had the most amazing encounters and experiences, and I feel like I was put here at this moment in time to make an impact and speak up for them. 'If something unfortunate happens, that's 100 per cent on me.' Her critics would surely agree.
