Shark Bait

If there is one thing that modern cinema has taught me, it’s that the human race’s primary survival instinct has been entirely replaced by the urge to take a really cool selfie. We live in an era where the "creature feature" has moved away from the gothic shadows of the mid-century and into the blinding, high-definition glare of the influencer age. Enter Shark Bait (2022), a film that asks the question: "What if five people who definitely shouldn't have graduated high school stole some jet skis?"

I watched this while nursing a mild sunburn from a day at the lake, which made the various scenes of saltwater-in-open-wounds feel uncomfortably personal. It’s a film that perfectly encapsulates the "VOD-era" horror—movies designed to catch your eye on a streaming menu with a thumbail of a dorsal fin and a bright blue ocean, promising exactly 87 minutes of uncomplicated carnage. It doesn't want to be Jaws; it wants to be the movie you put on while you're folding laundry or waiting for a pizza delivery.

High Stakes and Lower IQs

The premise is a masterclass in the "characters-deserve-what’s-coming-to-them" subgenre. A group of spring breakers in Mexico decide that the best way to celebrate their final morning is to steal two jet skis and head straight out into the deep blue. Naturally, they decide to play a game of "chicken," which results in a head-on collision that leaves one jet ski sunk, the other broken, and one friend with a compound fracture that is, frankly, a glowing neon "Eat Here" sign for any passing predator.

Director James Nunn, who previously gave us the surprisingly taut sniper-thriller Tower Block, knows exactly what he’s doing here. He isn't trying to reinvent the wheel; he’s trying to keep the wheel from falling off. The film leans heavily into the tropes we’ve seen in recent "trapped in one location" hits like The Shallows or 47 Meters Down. In fact, Shark Bait is produced by the same team behind 47 Meters Down, and you can see that DNA everywhere—from the relentless pacing to the way the camera lingers on the vast, empty horizon to make you feel every inch of that isolation.

The Modern Survivalist

Holly Earl plays Nat, our "Final Girl" by default because she’s the only person in the group who expresses even a modicum of caution. While the rest of the cast—Jack Trueman, Catherine Hannay, Malachi Pullar-Latchman, and Thomas Michael Flynn—essentially play a Darwin Award recruitment video, Holly Earl actually manages to ground the film. You feel her frustration. You’ve been Nat. You’ve been the person in the friend group saying, "Maybe we shouldn't do the incredibly illegal and dangerous thing," only to be ignored.

What makes Shark Bait feel specifically "now" is the way it handles the horror. In the 70s or 80s, the shark was a monster. In 2022, the shark is just a natural consequence of human arrogance. There’s a cynicism to the writing that reflects our current social media discourse; we watch these characters and, rather than feeling deep empathy, we find ourselves judging their life choices in real-time. The film knows this. It plays with the "douchebag" trope of Jack Trueman’s Tom, making his eventual realization of his own stupidity the most satisfying part of the arc.

Tension vs. Technology

From a technical standpoint, the film struggles with the limitations of its $5 million budget, but it finds clever ways to hide the seams. The shark itself is a mix of CGI and what I suspect are some very brief practical shots. While it doesn't always look like a living, breathing Great White, Nunn uses "The Volume" style lighting and tight framing to keep the tension high. The gore is surprisingly mean-spirited—there’s a particular bit involving a leg that made me audibly hiss.

However, the film stumbles when it tries to add "thematic weight." There’s a subplot involving a local (played by Manuel Cauchi) that feels like it wandered in from a 1940s travelogue, and a cheating scandal among the friends that feels like filler. We don't need a reason for these people to be upset with each other; they are currently being eaten. The shark is a fairly efficient editor—it tends to cut through the melodrama whenever the dialogue gets too clunky.

The soundtrack and sound design are where the real heavy lifting happens. The silence of the open ocean is punctuated by the rhythmic thump-thump of the remaining jet ski’s hull, a sound that mimics a heartbeat. It’s effective, even if the script occasionally fails to keep pace with the atmosphere.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

Interestingly, the film was originally titled Jet Ski, which is honestly much more honest, if a bit less "marketable." It was filmed almost entirely in Malta, a location that has become the go-to "Water Tank World" for modern productions (see: Foundation or U-571). Director James Nunn actually worked as a second unit director on 47 Meters Down: Uncaged, so he basically has a PhD in "People Getting Eaten in Tropical Locations." This expertise shows in the underwater photography, which is easily the film's strongest suit.

Shark Bait isn't going to change your life, and it’s certainly not going to make anyone forget Steven Spielberg. It is a lean, mean, and occasionally very dumb survival thriller that understands its place in the streaming ecosystem. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a cheap burger: you know it’s not good for you, you know exactly what’s in it, but in the right moment, it hits the spot. If you’re looking for a film that validates your decision to never, ever go on a spring break cruise, this is the one for you.