Sharks, Boats, and Branded Innertubes: Dangerous Animals at Volente Beach

Dangerous Animals is director Sean Byrne’s newest film, coming ten years after his sophomore feature The Devil’s Candy. It’s a fresh take on the killer shark genre of horror films. Here, the monster isn’t the sharks, but a man: a serial killer who kidnaps young female tourists and feeds them to sharks from his torture-boat as he films the frenzy on VHS tape. 

I was in the kitchen with my partner when I saw the opportunity to attend the world premiere of the film pop up. “Huh,” I said. “Do you know Volente Beach?” (Since they grew up in Austin, I liked to use them as my personal Texas-based Google.) “It’s a water park,” they told me, which, admittedly, I had gathered from the name “Volente Beach Resort & Waterpark.”

A screening at a water park was a novel idea to me—I was not familiar with Volente’s Jaws screenings at that point—but I had questions. What did a screening at a water park look like? Was it actually in the water? Did I want the exclusive branded innertube badly enough to drive an hour in my faltering Kia Soul to Leander, TX? 

The answer to that last one was definitely yes, so I found myself on the road to Volente Beach with a friend. To really understand my folly in this story, you should know: I’m a short guy with a rod fused to my spine and the upper body strength of a cooked noodle. There is not a single joint in my body that behaves as it should. This is not a self-dunk, it is a practical reality. 

Another thing you should know about me: I am dedicated to the bit. 

Once at the lake, we had the option to watch the screening nice and dry from the docked boats serving as VIP sections. But this was the coward’s way. I was there to watch a movie in the water, so help me god. From the docks by the deeper end of the screening area, I decided the best way to get in the water would be to wear the innertube around my waist and slide in.

I cannot emphasize enough that this is not the intended usage of these innertubes. 

They are meant to be comfortable seats with drink holders. Being short, I immediately realized I was more at shoulder-height in the tube, bobbing like a buoy as I gripped the tube’s handles. I could not see over the edge of the tube. I also, critically, had no way to pull myself up into a sitting position. “Hm,” I said, wondering if my companion, tied to me, was also struggling.

After several minutes of ineffectually splashing and debating how to free myself of my innertube prison, a fellow audience member helpfully let us know of a shallower area up ahead. Between us and the shallow area was a pair of divers, who during the film would add a 4-D shark element by swimming underwater and brushing people’s dangling feet. Intellectually, I knew they were unlikely to bother us, but there was a part of my hindbrain that tensed as we swam by—just like the tension felt by Dangerous Animal’s protagonist Zephyr (Hassie Harrison) as she waits for the sharks circling her to strike. But, like Zephyr, we made it to the shallows in one piece and climbed into our tubes properly. We’d done it. We’d gotten into the right position to watch the film, a task I will point out no other person seemed to struggle with that much, and were now ready to take in Dangerous Animals.

Like any good survival horror, the plot is streamlined and straightforward: Zephyr is an American in Australia, a drifter with no real ties to anyone. The morning after a romantic encounter with Moses (Josh Heuston), she’s kidnapped by killer Tucker (Jai Courtney) and trapped in his boat, waking up handcuffed in a Saw-like room with another young woman who Tucker captured in the film’s opening scene. What commences is classic survival horror fun, with Zephyr fighting to stay one step ahead as Tucker’s eccentricities ultimately lead to his downfall.

What’s most refreshing about Dangerous Animals is its framing of the sharks as unaware murder weapons rather than cold-blooded killers. The sharks themselves are not positioned as brainless beasts–rather, Tucker is positioned as a sexist maniac, with the sharks serving as a masculine power fantasy in a delightful twist on the usual shark horror approach. Zephyr’s survival ultimately comes because she understands the sharks are simply animals and is able to leverage her understanding of their behavior to her benefit, while Tucker is left confused and infuriated as the sharks defy his preconceived notion of them as bloodthirsty, vicious killers. 

Around the third act of the film, my friend leaned over to me and whispered, conspiratorially, that we should sneak out of the water early so we wouldn’t be caught in the flood of movie-goers at the end. Recognizing my limits, finally, I agreed, and so we somewhat inelegantly snuck back onto the dock. Much like Zephyr struggled to escape her cuffs, we furtively attempted to untie our innertubes. From the dock I could see the audience delighted by the film, cheering at Zephyr’s triumphs, occasionally cackling or gasping as a diver drifted by underfoot. 

There is nothing I love more than a weird film-going experience, and floating on the water certainly fits the brief. Would I do it again? Well. It depends. Will there be another novelty branded innertube up for grabs?

If so, count me in. 

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