Kangaroo (2025)

Two kangaroo joeys stand inside a cluttered room, looking curiously toward the doorway. One is in the foreground with its paw raised, while the other peeks from behind. To the left, part of a person’s legs and patterned skirt are visible.

Kate Woods’ return to feature directing with Kangaroo is a genuinely pleasurable, if entirely familiar, slice of Australian life. It’s a film that knows exactly what it wants to be: a generous hug wrapped in red dirt.

We begin with Chris Masterman (Ryan Corr), a cynical Sydney weatherman whose career comes spectacularly undone following a public relations disaster. Forced to relocate for an undesirable gig, his plans are dramatically altered when he is stranded in a remote Outback settlement outside Alice Springs. This is where he encounters an orphaned joey and the spirited twelve-year-old Charlie (Lily Whiteley), who is navigating her own deep sense of loss. Together, the mismatched pair must take on the demanding labour of rehabilitating the tiny marsupial.

The film’s greatest asset, in my view, is its undeniable sense of place. Woods captures the vast Northern Territory with sweeping colour and scope, making the landscape a profound, ancient character. The supporting cast—including Deborah Mailman and Rachel House—anchor the predictable redemption narrative, ensuring it never sinks into mawkishness. Chris’s journey is particularly interesting: he is stripped of his superficial media persona, forcing him into a vocation where his worth is measured not by transient celebrity, but by dedicated, unseen commitment. This is, I would argue, a quiet statement on the perils of living purely for the validation of the digital spectator.

There is, regrettably, a noticeable dip in the second act. The pace, though intended to be measured, occasionally feels slack. The spiritual rebirth narrative develops a little too smoothly, and the necessity of introducing a stock nefarious character, purely to provide a clean point of conflict, felt, dare I say, a touch cynical. We’ve seen that bloke before.

Despite leaning on these well-worn tracks, Kangaroo remains a lovely, authentic piece of Australian cinema. It succeeds by simply being warm, authentic, and utterly charming, which, in my estimation, is exactly what it set out to achieve.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.