Film Reviews

October 16, 2026

One of the main reasons "Whalefall" succeeds as well as it does is because it believes what it's selling us. If it didn't have faith in its own concept, it might have sunk, but the filmmakers are dedicated to dismissing the laws of nature and simply go all in, and their pitch to the audience turns into a tight and taut dramatic thriller with several moments that have us clenching and jumping in our seats. Their conviction becomes our own, and it pays off.

What is the filmmakers' pitch? It's sort of a classic tale told through a modern lens. Like "The Book of Jonah" from the Old Testament and "Pinocchio," it's about a man attempting to survive in the belly of a whale. This sounds absurd, yes, and for the record, science dictates this isn't possible, but in the context of the movie, it feels like it could be, and it's so compelling and well executed, we eventually no longer realize we're suspending our disbelief.

The "man" in the story is a college student named Jay, played by Austin Abrams, a talented actor who's currently having a moment ("Weapons," "Resident Evil"), and deservedly so, because he's quite effective. Jay is on a mission: to dive into the ocean and find the remains of his dead father, Mitt (Josh Brolin), who died by suicide after weighing himself down to the bottom of the ocean. Mitt had been diagnosed with cancer and wanted to leave planet Earth in his own way, even if it meant disappointing his wife (Elizabeth Shue), son, and two daughters (Jane Levy, Emily Rudd).

Disappointment was a common theme in Jay and Mitt's relationship. As an expert scuba diver and instructor, not to mention an outspoken advocate of the ocean ("The ocean always provides," he would say), Mitt routinely and often aggressively pressured Jay to be every bit as devoted to diving as he was, instituting practices such as 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls; precisely cleaning his goggles; and spending weekends going for dives instead of socializing with friends. Mitt's love for Jay was true but tough, and not without benefits—he taught Jay valuable lessons such as calming breathing exercises—but it nonetheless made Jay feel angry, resentful, and less than.

Now Jay feels obligated to correct what he believes was his father's mistake and bring his body home. At the same time, completing this undertaking would help alleviate Jay of the guilt he carries after his and Mitt's last falling out, which centered on Jay deciding to go to college in landlocked Iowa.

However, as the film's title suggests, Jay's plans quickly go awry and *SPOILER ALERT* he's swallowed by a sperm whale, waking up, naturally scared and panicked, in one of its four stomach chambers. His operation has suddenly shifted from bringing his dad home to ensuring his own survival by literally climbing out of the belly of the beast, and he only has an hour's worth of oxygen left in his tank.

Jay's wild predicament follows a harrowing and beautifully assembled underwater sequence by editor Pietro Scalia, whose deft skill is noticeable throughout the film. Scalia knows just how long to hold on shots and then cut to generate the right amount of tension and release, though "Whalefall" arguably contains more tension.

Director Brian Duffield proficiently orchestrates the claustrophobia, physical and mental toll, and primal fear of Jay's situation such that "Whalefall" feels conceivable, and it triggers a deep-rooted, visceral reaction from the audience. It intentionally makes us feel restless, scared, and uncertain, and the special and visual effects, combined with the production design and constrained sets, credibly create the inside of a whale (or what we imagine the inside of a whale to be like). "Whalefall" is a movie in which we notice all its filmic resources working together.

What's also noteworthy is that, despite Jay's current circumstances being farfetched and implausible, the film, based on Daniel Kraus' 2023 novel, has a groundedness about it that connects us to the characters as humans. "Whalefall" isn't just action, excitement, and spectacle; it's also a moving drama. Abrams and Brolin have a strong rapport, and we buy them as father and son. Their flashbacks form the heart of the movie, and even though Brolin straddles the line of overacting, he never crosses it—he finds the right degree of oppressive father figure without descending into caricature.

Abrams has an even greater task because he's in every scene, and we can truly sense Jay's real-time transformation, through Abrams’ eyes, cadence, pauses, staring off into space, and talking to himself. Sure, there are some moments, especially the spiritual conversation between Jay and Mitt, that feel hokey and mawkish, but we're willing to let them slide because we care about Jay's physical and emotional well-being so much.

For all its sentimentality, though, it's the ocean and interior whale sequences that make "Whalefall" stand out. I'll not give away the details of what Jay endures, but his trials and tribulations are riveting and shuddersome. The film unabashedly shows the erosion of body parts and that they're prone to collapsing under pressure. We wince a lot during "Whalefall," but the shots that yield these responses are pure and earned, and because so much humanity has been laid down, Jay's suffering feels more sympathetic and less exploitative. There are at least half a dozen shots viewers will take away from "Whalefall," and the filmmakers have fused craftsmanship with compassion so that our hearts, minds, and bodies experience a jolt.

On a lighter note, what's perhaps unintentionally fun about "Whalefall" is the list of unanswerable questions it brings up. One of these is, how exactly was Jay planning to lift his dad's body out of the ocean? I mean, people are heavy, and wouldn't Jay have already been bearing the weight of his scuba gear, and wouldn't he need more than one hour of oxygen in his tank? Another is, if Jay survives, how many people would believe him when he tells them that he spent time inside the stomach of a whale? And let's say they do—would this make Jay the life of any future party, and would it make any future first dates he goes on inevitably make the other person feel dull by comparison? And how many talk shows would he book?

I could go on, but it's entertaining to think about the positive fallout of what happens in "Whalefall," a film that's otherwise gut-wrenching, intense, and touching. It's mind-blowing to think anyone could experience what the film suggests, but "Whalefall" somehow gets us to believe it’s possible.