Set in the aftermath of the infamous 2005 Cronulla riots, the movie tells the story of two carloads of vengeful, testosterone-charged young hotheads from both sides of the fight destined to collide.
There are far too few moments of wit and far too many stretches of raucous swearing, and it's difficult to get even black comedy working in such a negative and crude environment as these characters find themselves in
[M]ocks the hypocrisy of those who decry diversity while enjoying it... and dings the toxic masculinity that drives men to prove themselves with rage and violence. It's all almost too dark to be outright hilarious, but it certainly is bleakly droll.
Forsythe has an extremely disciplined schematic in mind, and sticks to his guns. The final act has great power ... His script has integrity and his direction is sure-footed and consistent. He may hold his characters in contempt, but never his audience.
The film falls short because it falls between two stools: as a reminder of a shameful period in our recent history it's too interested in finding cheap laughs, and as a comedy it's just too painful and ugly.
The failure here isn't from unpacking a troubling historical moment with humour. It's the erratic switches in the tone that confuse the film's mood and intentions.
If this film is anything to go by, [Australians] are living with exactly the same racial tensions and dealing with the same level of ignorance as we are. But it's a lot bloody easier to laugh about it when it's 10,000 miles away.
