Criticism

‘Whalefall’ review: Austin Abrams grapples with daddy issues inside a killer whale’s belly

By Catriona Vale, Craft & Criticism EditorApril 21, 20241 note

A brutal underwater survival thriller that dives into trauma as much as it does into visceral body horror, ‘Whalefall’ balances emotional baggage with jaw-dropping effects.

‘Whalefall’ plunges viewers into a nightmarish underwater landscape where survival hinges as much on emotional resilience as on physical endurance. Director Brian Duffield’s adaptation of Daniel Kraus’ novel crafts a claustrophobic tale of a young diver, Jay Gardiner (Austin Abrams), who ventures into the depths to find his father’s remains after a seaside tragedy. What begins as a personal quest quickly spirals into a fight against a literal monster, with the film’s central creature being a sperm whale that’s more than just a beast—it’s a vessel of trauma and guilt.

The film’s visceral body horror is vividly realized, with effects that are both grotesque and fascinating. Gallons of digestive fluid and the whale’s innards are rendered with a brutal realism that will make viewers squirm. Duffield’s effects team doesn’t shy away from graphic detail, turning the whale’s interior into a nightmare landscape of flesh, acid, and biological chaos. Yet, amid the gore, there are moments of unexpected beauty, capturing the surreal, almost meditative quality of being lost inside a creature of such enormous scale. More context: Criticism.

The emotional core of ‘Whalefall’ revolves around Jay’s relationship with his late father Mitt, played by Josh Brolin in flashbacks. Their troubled bond is explored through the film’s narrative structure, which constantly circles back to themes of regret, guilt, and the desire for closure. Duffield and Kraus seem intent on questioning whether the whale itself symbolizes the weight of past trauma—an idea that the film’s dialogues and visuals constantly echo. This layered metaphor complicates the horror, making it less about the monster and more about confronting buried pain. More context: Criticism.

The film’s tension is sustained by Abrams’ performance, which oscillates between vulnerability and primal survival instinct. His muffled screams inside the scuba helmet evoke a visceral sense of isolation and dread, while the toxic environment inside the whale’s stomach amplifies the physical toll. The interior becomes a washing machine of bubbling acids and toxic gases, turning the creature’s insides into a visceral trap that’s both terrifying and oddly poetic.

There’s a disturbing beauty in Duffield’s underwater vision, which combines graphic effects with moments of stillness that evoke the vast, unknowable ocean. The film’s narrative constantly questions how much emotional patience viewers are willing to extend to Jay’s journey—whether it’s worth enduring the trauma to reach some form of catharsis. ‘Whalefall’ ultimately challenges the audience to consider if confronting our own monsters—whether internal or external—is necessary for true survival.

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