Dangerous Animals is Rated R by the Motion Picture Rating (MPA) for strong bloody violent content/grisly images, sexuality, language and brief drug use.

Review: Dangerous Animals

Summer and shark movies go together like sun and sand. Since Jaws first terrorized theaters in 1975, audiences have returned to the water every few years hoping to be thrilled, chilled, and maybe even a little scarred. Yet in recent summers, the genre has gone relatively quiet. With the notable exceptions of The Meg (2018) and its 2023 sequel, there hasn’t been a shark film of real bite in some time. That changes with Dangerous Animals, a lean, brutal new thriller from Australian director Sean Byrne (The Loved Ones, The Devil’s Candy). But don’t let the dorsal fins fool you—this film is far less interested in what lurks beneath the waves than it is in the dangers that walk among us.

At a brisk 90 minutes, Dangerous Animals wastes no time establishing tone and stakes. We open on Zephyr (Hassie Harrison), a solitary surfer with a guarded demeanor and an aversion to attachment. She lives on the fringes—shoplifting snacks, sleeping in her car, and chasing waves along the sun-bleached Australian coast. Harrison plays Zephyr with a magnetic mix of toughness and vulnerability; her eyes often tell a different story than her words. It’s a nuanced performance that grounds the film emotionally even as the tension ratchets up.

Zephyr’s encounter with Moses (Josh Heuston), a stranded real estate agent who shares her love of surfing and Creedence Clearwater Revival, offers a brief but meaningful reprieve from her isolated existence. Their chemistry is natural and unforced. Heuston brings an understated warmth to Moses, never pushing too hard, allowing their connection to unfold in the quiet, believable rhythm of two lonely souls trying to trust. But just as quickly as it sparks, the moment passes. Zephyr vanishes before sunrise, true to her nature.

It’s during her return to the ocean that the film takes a darker turn. Misplacing her surfboard key, Zephyr borrows one from an unattended truck, only to be confronted by its owner, Tucker (Jai Courtney). From the moment he steps on screen, there’s something off about Tucker. Courtney plays him with a disarming calm—all polite smiles and measured words—but the menace seeps through in every pause, every lingering glance. Within minutes, we realize what Zephyr doesn’t yet know: this man is a predator. And she is now within his territory.

What follows is a savage, stripped-down game of survival. But what elevates Dangerous Animals above most genre entries is how it blurs the lines between human and beast. Tucker is not merely a killer; he’s a man obsessed with sharks, idolizing them as pure, instinct-driven creatures. As the operator of a shark diving tour, he masquerades as a nature lover, but beneath the surface lies a man who envies the primal clarity of the ocean’s top predator. It’s a chilling conceit—that someone could romanticize the ruthlessness of nature and seek to emulate it.

Courtney, best known for action roles that rarely stretch his range, gives the performance of his career here. Tucker is terrifying not because he rants or raves, but because he believes what he’s doing is natural. There’s a moment late in the film where he dances alone after a kill, a grotesque display of euphoria that lands like a gut punch. It’s one of the most disturbing scenes in the film, not just for its brutality, but for the joy he takes in it.

High Recommended:

Byrne, working from a script by Nick Lepard, demonstrates his talent for merging character and horror. His direction is assured and stylish, using the Australian landscape not just as a backdrop but as a character in its own right. The cinematography, by Simon Chapman, captures both the rugged beauty and isolation of the setting. Crisp, wide shots of endless coastline are juxtaposed with claustrophobic interior scenes that trap Zephyr in her fight for survival.

The film’s color palette is especially striking—icy blues dominate early scenes, reflecting Zephyr’s emotional detachment, while violent reds emerge as the story intensifies. In one key sequence, Zephyr is lit entirely in crimson as she prepares to face Tucker head-on. It’s not just a stylistic flourish, but a visual metaphor: she has become the hunter now.

What sets Dangerous Animals apart from your typical shark thriller is its refusal to demonize the creatures of the sea. The sharks here are majestic, mysterious, and largely peripheral. They function less as threats than as symbols. Tucker admires them for their efficiency; Zephyr, eventually, seems to draw strength from them. Byrne is careful never to let the film tip into creature-feature territory. The horror is all too human.

If there’s a critique to be made, it’s that the second act loses some narrative momentum. As Zephyr navigates a series of increasingly perilous encounters, the plot occasionally leans on familiar genre beats. We’ve seen variations of these moments before, and while Byrne stages them with skill, they don’t always surprise. But even when the story treads familiar waters, the performances keep it afloat.

And what a payoff the final act delivers. The climactic confrontation is brutal, intimate, and earned. Byrne eschews grand spectacle in favor of physicality and grit. It’s not about who’s stronger, but who’s more willing to endure. Zephyr, bloodied but unbroken, emerges as one of the more compelling final girls in recent memory.

Dangerous Animals Parents Guide

Violence & Gore: This is where Dangerous Animals sinks its teeth in—literally and figuratively. While the shark may be on the poster, it’s the humans who are the real predators here, and the violence reflects that. We’re talking brutal, personal, up-close confrontations. There’s a disturbing, unflinching rawness to the kill scenes, especially those involving Jai Courtney’s unhinged serial killer character, Tucker.

Without spoiling specific plot beats, know that the film includes multiple scenes of people being stabbed, beaten, and disposed of in shockingly casual ways. There’s blood, lots of it—and not in the stylized action-movie way. This is gritty, visceral violence meant to unnerve, not entertain. One particular sequence involving a dancing killer post-murder might linger in your mind far longer than you’d like. It’s that disturbing.

Also worth noting: while shark attacks do happen, they are treated with surprising reverence. These aren’t the jump-scare maulings you might expect, but rather clinical moments underscoring the film’s thematic contrast between nature’s killers and humanitys.

Sexual Content: There’s a sex scene between the two leads early on, but it’s handled with restraint. It’s brief, and while there’s nudity, it’s more sensual than graphic. That said, the emotional context—two emotionally scarred people finding fleeting connection—adds a layer of poignancy that makes it more than just obligatory genre titillation. Still, this is definitely not a scene you want to watch with younger viewers in the room.

Language: The script doesn’t hold back when it comes to dialogue. Expect a consistent stream of R-rated language, including frequent F-bombs and other colorful expletives. It feels authentic to the world and characters—especially given the high-stress, life-or-death situations they’re thrown into—but it’s still worth flagging for viewers sensitive to strong language.

Drug & Alcohol Use: Drug use is minimal but present. There’s a brief scene involving marijuana, treated more as a character beat than a plot point. Alcohol is more prevalent, especially in early scenes where Zephyr’s transient lifestyle is sketched out. None of it glamorized, none of it particularly central—but it’s there.

Conclusions:

Dangerous Animals is not just a worthy addition to the shark movie canon—it’s one of the smartest. It strips the genre to its bones and rebuilds it as a psychological thriller, one where the ocean is vast, the sharks are misunderstood, and the real terror walks on two legs. With a revelatory performance from Jai Courtney and a breakout turn from Hassie Harrison, it reminds us that the most dangerous animals are often the ones staring back at us from dry land.