How much of it is for Instagram, and how much is for conservation? That’s the central question in Netflix’s new documentary, Shark Whisperer.
Ocean Ramsey is the titular shark whisperer, and the film follows her journey to protect, and controversially, interact with sharks. Ramsey has built a huge online following (over 2 million on Instagram and TikTok) from striking content of her freediving alongside, and often holding onto the dorsal fins of, sharks.
The film features breathtaking footage of Ramsey swimming with various shark species, with tiger sharks appearing most frequently. Her best known encounter—one that made headlines —was with a 20-foot great white affectionately known as Deep Blue.
Her central argument is that by drawing attention to sharks through her social media content, she is advancing her cause of shark conservation. Her activism has yielded tangible results: with her support, legislation was passed in her native Hawaii banning shark fishing.
Ramsey explains that her understanding of shark behaviour, along with posture, careful redirection, and situational awareness, allows her to stay safe in the water. She acknowledges the risks involved but seems willing to accept them for the cause.
However, I wish the film had explored more deeply her perception of the threat sharks pose to her.
Underestimating the risks and overestimating our understanding of animal behavior has led to tragedy before. Timothy Treadwell, subject of the excellent Werner Herzog documentary Grizzly Man, spent years living among grizzly bears in Alaska. Like Ramsey, he became emotionally attached to the animals, giving them names and forming close bonds. Tragically, he was killed and eaten by a bear in 2003.
The film hints at criticisms that Ramsey’s work lacks scientific rigour and that her motivations may lean more towards promoting her personal brand than pure conservation. Personally, I think both can be true and it doesn’t detract from the real conservation impact of her work.
Animal whisperers, especially those working with apex predators like sharks, have long fascinated documentary audiences.
One infamous example was biologist Eric Ritter, who built a career as a “shark behaviorist.” In 2002, while filming for Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, he had his calf bitten off by a bull shark—just moments after stating the sharks “couldn’t care less about them.” Ritter survived, but it was a powerful reminder that with wild animals, you only need to be wrong once.
What Ramsey is doing isn’t entirely new. South African Mike Rutzen, another shark behavior specialist, was freediving with great whites nearly 20 years ago. He became a regular feature on shark documentaries but rose to prominence before the social media era. Like Ramsey, Rutzen had commercial interests, running a shark diving business in South Africa. However, as far as I’m aware, he faced little criticism at the time. Perhaps the world was just a gentler place back then.
Verdict
Shark conservation is a well-known issue within the diving community, but any exposure to a broader, mainstream audience is valuable. Ocean Ramsey’s stated goal is to show that sharks aren’t monsters—and the film certainly achieves that. But in doing so, does it go too far?
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