Throughout human history, we’ve told stories about people getting trapped inside whales. Whether it’s the biblical epic of Jonah or the fantastical tale of Pinocchio, these stories of ultimate adversity have shaped pop culture and inspired people for centuries. Whalefall is the latest addition to the ocean-horror subgenre, reminding viewers why it might be best to stay out of the water.

When his father drowns himself at the bottom of the ocean, Jay (Austin Abrams) scuba dives off the coast of California in search of his remains to provide himself and his family closure. During his search, a sperm whale hunting for a squid swallows Jay alive. Suddenly placed in the most perilous situation imaginable, Jay has one hour to escape the belly of the whale before his oxygen runs out and he suffers a slow and painful death.

Few movies since Jaws (1975) have made viewers quite as terrified of the ocean and the life within it. Whalefall deserves to be near the top of the list. Even before the whale swallows him, Jay enters the ocean waters and is confronted by the unknown. As he gawks down the depths of a pitch-black trench, a giant squid emerges and stares him down as he clings to a sea shelf, hoping not to provoke the creature. Even before the whale enters the frame, director Brian Duffield characterizes the scale of the situation. Through phenomenal effects work and production design, Whalefall makes you feel as small and helpless as Jay amid an unimaginable test of will and survival.

Once inside the belly of the whale, it’s often hard to breathe as you watch Jay navigate the tight space he shares with the squid still trying to kill him. As Aaron Morton’s camerawork holds tightly on Jay’s face and flashes to different parts of his cramped, fleshy surroundings, it’s extremely intense and uncomfortable. The claustrophobic setting is further emphasized when the whale’s stomach walls contract as it chews and digests the living creatures inside. These sequences are some of the film’s most horrifying. It’s painful to watch the anguish Jay experiences in these moments, and the guttural screams of pain and fear Abrams elicits are only part of what makes up his very best performance to date.

At this point, no stranger to portraying characters facing traumatic scenarios, Abrams captures every aspect of the terror Jay feels and the hope he must have that he will escape the living casket he finds himself in. His physical performance is unprecedented, especially with the sparse dialogue he’s given to work with. The range of emotions he showcases in the mere facial expressions he makes in moments, fluctuating between joy from succeeding in an instance to painful agony as he’s reminded of his continued desperation, is remarkable and makes it easier to get attached to Jay and root for him than any of the additional background he’s given.

Through flashbacks that consistently grind the story’s momentum to a screeching halt, we’re treated to backstory communicating Jay’s unhealthy relationship with his father, Mitt (Josh Brolin). The ocean was Mitt’s life, and he did everything he could to prepare Jay for the dangers he currently braves, even if it meant creating a painful, un-mendable rift between them. While his character lacks depth, Brolin portrays him as best he could, leaning into Mitt’s abrasiveness. This choice lets the viewer understand everything we’re meant to know about Mitt, but he’s not a pleasant character to be around. This could’ve been partially alleviated if these flashback moments had been more engaging, but they don’t add much to the story, even though it becomes clear in the third act that they’re supposed to. The emotional aspects of Jay’s relationship with his father feel forced toward the movie’s conclusion, and the story has nothing more interesting to say about loss and how people grieve than what audiences have seen portrayed more intricately dozens of times before.

The reason to experience Whalefall on the largest screen possible is the unbelievable scale it achieves through all its craft elements in immersive conversation. The sound design is enveloping, from the whale’s constantly changing interior to the shifts in pressure Jay experiences as he’s driven deeper into the ocean. The whale’s compact interiors feel tangible because they’re part of a real, hand-crafted rotating set that simulates the churning of the digestive system as Jay is flung about the stomach like a ragdoll. 

As a filmmaker, Duffield has already relied on visuals and detailed sound design to tell a story. The whole gimmick of last film, the alien home invasion thriller, No One Will Save You (2023), is that it featured no dialogue. Whalefall is best when its focus rests on Jay trapped in the belly of the whale with no one to talk to besides himself or a jellyfish he charmingly befriends and forms a heartfelt, albeit brief relationship.

Whalefall is an achievement in scale and intensity, featuring flawless craftwork. The humanity of its larger-than-life premise doesn’t compete with the thrills of its set pieces. Still, Abrams capably navigates the distressing waters his character finds himself in with enough emotional depth to compensate for any thematic shortcomings. The feature is another example of Duffield’s talent behind the camera creating extraordinary survival nightmares for audiences. 

Review Courtesy of Evan Miller

Feature Image Credit to 20th Century Studios