January 4, 2026

Before Taika Waititi became the maestro of cosmic absurdity in Thor: Ragnarok or crafted the poignant satire of Jojo Rabbit, he gave us this modest, peculiar gem; a story about two magnificently awkward people fumbling toward something resembling connection. Eagle vs Shark is his feature debut, and while it lacks the refinement and assurance of his later work, it already contains his essential DNA: that off-kilter humor, that bone-dry sarcasm, th… read the rest.

Before Taika Waititi became the maestro of cosmic absurdity in Thor: Ragnarok or crafted the poignant satire of Jojo Rabbit, he gave us this modest, peculiar gem; a story about two magnificently awkward people fumbling toward something resembling connection. Eagle vs Shark is his feature debut, and while it lacks the refinement and assurance of his later work, it already contains his essential DNA: that off-kilter humor, that bone-dry sarcasm, that willingness to find both comedy and compassion in human ridiculousness.

Every character here is nerdy, needy, warped, broken in some fundamental way. Lily, played with heartbreaking precision by Loren Horsley (who co-wrote the script), works at a fast-food restaurant and pines for Jarrod, the video game store clerk portrayed by Jemaine Clement with aggressive obliviousness. Jarrod is planning a costume party; when Lily shows up dressed as a shark to his eagle, the film's title becomes a visual echo of Sholom Aleichem's ancient wisdom: "A bird may love a fish but where would they build a home together?" No one in this film is cool, no one has their life together, no one would be mistaken for the protagonist of a conventional romance. And that's precisely the point.

Waititi holds up a human mirror here, asking the question that hovers over all his best work: who among us is the perfect person? Who among us isn't nursing some wound, some delusion, some desperate hunger for validation? Jarrod's quest for revenge against his high school bully becomes pathetic and revealing; his treatment of Lily veers between casual cruelty and genuine need. Yet Horsley's performance keeps us invested, her Lily so endearing, so quietly resilient, that we root for her even when the film's quirky aesthetic threatens to tip into preciousness.

Is it as accomplished as Hunt for the Wilderpeople or What We Do in the Shadows? No. But it's still quite funny, still genuinely moving when it needs to be, still confident enough in its strangeness to resist easy resolution. Horsley and Clement execute their roles with exactness, creating characters who could have been insufferable but instead become oddly lovable. By the end, you believe these two damaged people might actually make it work, not because they've been healed but because they've found someone equally unhealed to share the wreckage with.

That's a delightful watch, and a generous vision of love.

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