Dario Russo delivers a fabelistic tale about the perils of talking to the animals, and for some, a whole lot more
For a while, there was a concerted effort to position Jai Courtney as a traditional leading man, a push that never quite fit. His blunt physicality and off-kilter charm often felt at odds with the clean-cut heroes he was asked to embody. Lately, though, he’s been on something of a redemption tour, leaning into roles that embrace his more acerbic, unpredictable energy (see Suicide Squad and Dangerous Animals). In The Fox, Courtney finds that groove again, delivering a performance that thrives on awkwardness, menace, and an almost painful lack of self-awareness.
Nick (Courtney) is a man cushioned by privilege, “earning” a living helping on his father’s farm while drifting through life with a haze of alcohol and complacency. He’s not malicious, exactly, just oblivious. That extends to his relationship with Kori (Emily Browning), who is quietly suffocating in their dynamic and secretly carrying on an affair with her married boss Derek (Damon Herriman). Complicating matters further, Derek’s wife Diana (Claudia Doumit) also happens to be Kori’s best friend, creating a tangled web of betrayal that Nick seems uniquely ill-equipped to perceive.
When Nick proposes, Kori accepts with a kind of dazed resignation. Things come to a head when Diana uncovers the affair and attempts to recruit Nick into a confrontation. He shrugs it off, until an encounter in the woods changes everything. A fox (voiced with delicious ambiguity by Olivia Colman) confirms the infidelity (all the animals are gossiping about it apparently), and offers a solution. Spare her life, and she will fix his relationship. The plan? Throw Kori in a big hole out in the forest, from which she will emerge transformed into a devoted, faithful partner. Believing this, and recruiting Diana to help with he plan, they do just that and several days later Kori returns, coated in mud, cheery of disposition, but something doesn’t seem quite right.
If you can glide past that premise without resistance, The Fox becomes a wickedly entertaining ride. If, however, you find yourself interrogating the logic, you may miss the point entirely. This is a film that demands you surrender to its internal rhythm, one that favors absurdity, folklore, and humor over realism. Writer-director Dario Russo, best known for the cult series Danger 5, brings is signature surrealism, though it’s notably tempered here. The chaos is more controlled, the absurdity threaded through a framework that brushes up against horror without fully embracing it. Drawing inspiration from East Asian folklore, particularly tales of animals deceiving humans, Russo transplants these mythic ideas into a distinctly Australian landscape, where instinct and civility are in constant tension.
Visually, the film leans into this folkloric texture. Cinematographer Matthew Chuang captures the farmland and surrounding forest with a tactile richness, grounding the film even as its narrative drifts into the uncanny. The talking animals, rendered through practical effects rather than photorealistic CGI, add to the dreamlike quality. They never quite feel “real,” which is precisely the point, their artificiality enhances the sense that something is deeply off. Russo’s own score complements this atmosphere, oscillating between verdant mystery and bursts of bombastic horn that punctuate key moments with an almost mischievous flair.
As hinted, Courtney nails the schlub role with aplomb. Browning is particularly compelling, navigating Kori’s evolution from a stifled, inwardly fractured woman to something far less easily defined. To say more would veer into spoiler territory, but her transformation anchors the film’s emotional undercurrent. Colman, meanwhile, is wonderfully wry as the fox, imbuing her voice work with equal parts charm and quiet intruige. There’s also a memorable vocal turn from Sam Neill as a scheming magpie, eager to trade juicy gossip for even juicier rewards. Alongside them is a supporting cast packed with familiar Australian faces, including Miranda Otto as a perpetually inebriated pub owner, building a world that feels both textured and oddly lived-in.
For all its eccentricity, The Fox plays things surprisingly straight. There’s a restraint here that may frustrate viewers hoping for full-blown surreal chaos, the film could arguably push its weirdness further. Yet that restraint also sharpens its thematic edge. Beneath the absurdity lies a pointed critique, the idea that partners, particularly women, are problems to be fixed, managed, or domesticated rather than understood. In that sense, The Fox operates as both a dark parable and a cautionary tale. It explores the human tendency toward self-destruction, the allure of easy solutions, and the dangers of surrendering to our baser instincts while convincing ourselves we’re in control.
Quick, creative, and often hilariously unsettling, The Fox is a delectably dark slice of Australian storytelling. It’s a fable about the perils of listening to animals, and perhaps more importantly, the perils of refusing to truly listen to each other.
