Film Review: Kangaroo (2025) - Australia
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 8/10
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Australian director Kate Woods steers her camera back into the vast, sunbaked heart of Australia, and with “Kangaroo”, she finds not just scenery, but soul. This film arrives like a welcome, cool breeze off the desert – a crowd-pleaser, yes, built on the sturdy chassis of a "fish-out-of-water" redemption tale, but imbued with such earnestness and visual splendor that it transcends its familiar blueprint. It’s a film that reminds you sometimes the oldest stories feel new when told with conviction and an eye for genuine beauty.
At its center is Aussie actor Ryan Corr as Chris Masterman, a Sydney weatherman whose on-air meltdown sends his career plummeting faster than a sudden hailstorm. Corr nails the initial smarm, the city-slicker arrogance that makes his exile to a remote Northern Territory wildlife sanctuary feel like a cosmic punchline. But Corr’s real triumph is the gradual, believable erosion of that facade. We watch the harshness and the unexpected majesty of the Outback chip away at him, revealing a vulnerability and, eventually, a humility that feels earned, not scripted. His journey from superficial pronouncements about "sunny skies" to the quiet understanding of real, complex weather – both meteorological and personal – is the film’s sturdy spine.
Yet, the film’s beating heart belongs not to Corr, but to newcomer Lily Whiteley as Charlie. In a role that could easily curdle into cloying precociousness or simplistic wisdom-dispensing, Whiteley is a revelation. Her Charlie is grounded, resilient, possessing a quiet competence born of necessity and love for the sanctuary's orphaned joeys. She’s the moral compass, yes, but one calibrated through practicality and a dry wit that feels authentically Australian. Her chemistry with Corr is the film’s secret weapon; their tentative, often messy partnership caring for the joeys provides moments of pure, unforced warmth and the film’s deepest emotional resonance.
Speaking of resonance, the Northern Territory itself is a co-star. Woods and her cinematographer make the MacDonnell Ranges sing. Wide-angle vistas capture an isolation that isn't just backdrop; it's an active force, pressing in on Chris, stripping him bare, forcing a confrontation with his failures that no Sydney skyscraper could ever induce. The production design roots us firmly in the dusty, sun-bleached reality of the sanctuary – this is no sanitized movie set. And crucially, the film leavens its emotional weight with a distinctly dry, Australian wit, delivered with perfect timing by scene-stealers Deborah Mailman and Rachel House, who ensure sentimentality never overwhelms the salt of the earth.
“Kangaroo” draws inspiration from the vital work of real-life sanctuaries, and its conservation message is woven in with admirable subtlety. There are no grand speeches, no villainous poachers (though human folly is acknowledged). Instead, the film fosters awe through the tactile, often gloriously messy reality of wildlife rehabilitation. We see the dedication, the exhaustion, the simple act of feeding a joey. The animals themselves – those impossibly endearing joeys – are seamlessly integrated. They provide moments of levity that feel organic, never manipulative, reminding us what’s truly at stake.
Is it predictable? Undeniably. The arc of the disgraced professional finding purpose and connection in an unlikely place unfolds with few genuine surprises. You can chart Chris's emotional milestones like waypoints on a desert track. Yet, in an era choked with cynical spectacle and irony-drenched blockbusters, “Kangaroo”’s sincerity is its superpower. Woods believes in this story, in this landscape, and in the redemptive power of caring for something beyond oneself. That belief is infectious.
“Kangaroo” doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it polishes that wheel to a brilliant shine and takes us on a journey through landscapes both external and internal with warmth, humor, and stunning visual poetry. Anchored by Corr's solid transformation and Whiteley's star-making turn, it’s a soul-stirring, quintessentially Australian success story. Its box office triumph as the highest-grossing local film of 2025 isn't just deserved; it’s a testament to the enduring power of well-told, heartfelt cinema that connects with the ground beneath our feet and the heart within our chest. See it for the joeys, stay for the journey. (Neo, 2025)