Squids (2026) opens with a close-up shot of a rapidly spinning scooter wheel, hypnotically immersing the Fantastic Film Festival Australia (FFFA) attendees in the film’s fictional cult of scooter-racing zeal and extreme-sport unseriousness. This shot initiates an indulgently ‘90s morning-routine montage consisting of toast popping out of the toaster and being quickly slathered with peanut butter (comically, with a large paintbrush), Velcro shoes being strapped on and a helmet being clicked into place, all inside protagonist Norah’s (Tiana Hogben) primary-coloured scooter-themed garage hideout. This opening captures the spirit of Squids: a silly yet endearing pastiche of the candy-coloured aesthetics and passionate sporting spirit of the beloved ‘80s/’90s coming-of-age sports movies. 

The movie’s plot is simple, with the primary intent of playing with genre clichés and tropes through a facetiously Aussie lens. Norah is an orphan, passionate about scooter-racing, and, alongside Franklin (Ryan Zorzut, also the writer-director) and RJ (Diona Hill), makes up the amateur racing team Squids. Their training for the imminent Crashblade Cup, the premier scooter-racing competition, is derailed when their coach (Alfred Nicdao) is tragically hit by a train. In desperate need of a new mentor, they track down the washed-up former scooter-racing champion Dayton (Barney Pollock). All the while, Norah’s archrival Skull (Mille Holten) and love-interest Parker (Isaac Crawley) of rival Titanium Racing crew, funded by the ontologically evil and heinously rich Cash Titanium (Tom Burton), pose a serious threat to our hero’s Crashblade Cup dreams. Things go from bad to worse when, beneath the inter-team sabotage, romance and betrayal, a mystery villain schemes to kidnap and kill elite scooter-racers.

The most notable thing about Squids is that it is utterly hilarious. The comedy is mostly, and I mean this in the most positive and endearing way possible, juvenile and stupid. To be clear, the protagonists are all thoroughly mediocre at scootering—watching Norah averagely scooter around while her friends laud her breakneck speed never got old. Other skits which embodied this deadpan silliness include the comedically black-clad Skull stumbling clumsily over a fence before confronting the protagonists, and the stern librarian locking up and muttering complaints about Squids-related shenanigans while they creep about in the library behind him. The absurdity and stupidity of this scene-specific skit-based comedy was indulgently fun and combined well with the humorously trope-ridden plot and characters to create a layered and ludicrous experience. 

The emphasis on comedy sometimes worked against the movie though, which at times came across less like a film and more like a series of skits loosely connected through tongue-in-cheek scooter stunts and tropey plot points. This isn’t strictly bad—the movie isn’t aiming for a compelling plot—but it did mean that when the occasional joke or skit didn’t land, my engagement waned; there was nothing else to sustain my investment.  

After the establishing morning routine montage mentioned at the start of this review, Norah and her fellow scooter-enthusiasts RJ and Franklin zoom away from her unexceptional red brick suburban house while whooping and joyously shouting “summertime”. They pass by the Yarra River, the Arts centre, and the Royal Exhibition Building as they exuberantly scooter around Melbourne, showing off their skills with dangerously radical stunts, such as Franklin launching his scooter a generous three centimetres in the air. This daredevilish extravagance blew the minds of the formerly scooter-neutral audience. 

On a more serious note, though, it’s not often you see Melbourne on the screen, and realising how utterly local the film was—I have run down the Yarra precisely where they filmed one of these shots—filled me with feel-good, Melbournian pride. This arose from more than just shots of iconic Melbourne landmarks. Ryan Zorzut is a Melbournian comedian, actor and writer; Squids is his debut feature film and FFFA was its world premiere. The film was produced by Loser Friend Pictures, Zorzut’s own production company, and the post-production of the film was supported through crowdfunding. Several people in the audience were wearing Squids merchandise available only through donation to the post-production crowdfund. Squids felt local because it is local—it’s the result of a shared passion for film, comedy and silly-goosery found in Zorzut’s genius, the talented cast of local actors and a supportive community. Naturally, there was immense enthusiasm for the film in the crowd, and while the movie certainly won me over, so did the collective whoops and applause after the final scene, after the bloopers (which confirmed my suspicion that the actors were often on the verge of laughing) and after the final credit rolled. 

I left feeling unbelievably happy and proud. Squids is an absolute delight, ceaselessly silly and cool. Sadly, its run at FFFA is over. It might appear at some future film festivals, but beyond that there are no concrete plans for distribution. I’m not sure when the next opportunity to see Squids will be, but when such a chance presents itself to you, I implore you to scooter straight to it.