At the Movies with James Phelan: No whale of a time

Review: Whalefall

On occasion, the question is how much a film can be about. How much story can be crammed into a couple of hours? At other times, the question is how little a film can be about while still holding our attention and justifying our time and money.

When I first heard the premise of Whalefall, I assumed it was the absolute epitome of a Hollywood pitch. The sort of concept you would hear in a spoof of the movie industry. After all, "man gets swallowed whole by a whale" sounds both absurdly simplistic and wildly fantastical. Then I discovered the film was based on an apparently successful and well-loved novel. Then I learned the author was a Pulitzer Prize winner, albeit not for Whalefall.

It's all very confusing in that it isn't confusing at all. This is the tale of a scuba diver trapped inside a whale. That's the beginning and the end of the story. Sadly, it's also the middle.

In the central role, the quietly charismatic Austin Abrams plays Jay Gardiner, a guilt-ridden young man searching for the remains of his father, who was lost at sea a year earlier. Recklessly diving alone, Jay is swallowed by a whale along with a thrashing squid. The sequence is effectively realised as a nightmare scenario most people have probably never considered. Trapped inside the belly of the beast, Jay finds himself in a hugely claustrophobic and thoroughly unpleasant environment. Abrams conveys a convincing level of panic, desperation and mounting terror.

Having spent much of the recent and excellent Resident Evil largely alone on screen, Abrams surely deserves an ensemble piece next, one where he can sit around chatting with ten other actors. This solitary ordeal must have been a miserable shoot. Tossed around in slime, gunk and fish guts, he spends the entire film looking like a sock trapped in a smelly spin cycle. Permanently drenched, he is crushed, battered and manhandled by puppetry, mechanical rigs and whatever else the production could throw at him during his unfortunate internment.

To be fair, some scenes hit hard. A venture into an acid-filled chamber of the whale's digestive tract is genuinely uncomfortable viewing. Likewise, a deliberate descent into the ocean depths delivers some visceral moments. The relentless jeopardy is punctuated by flashbacks to Jay's difficult relationship with his father, Mitt (Josh Brolin), whose brutal diving lessons and abrasive personality have clearly left lasting scars.

There is little light relief to be found there either. It soon becomes clear that Mitt's harsh wisdom will hold the key to Jay's survival. Yet his relentless criticism often strays dangerously close to outright abuse, making the estrangement between father and son entirely believable.

For Whalefall to stand a real chance, the screenplay and running time should have been locked at 90 pages and 90 minutes. By stretching such a skeletal premise well beyond its natural limits, the film leaves audiences with too much time to think. And the dominant thought is likely to be: "This is all a bit daft."

Regardless of the novel's popularity, the film remains a slight story about a diver being ingested, but not digested, by a whale. Is that enough to sustain a feature-length movie? On this evidence, no.

Is it accurate in its depiction of life inside a whale? Who knows? More importantly, who cares? All the scientific accuracy in the world cannot compensate for a lack of entertainment.

If I ever find myself trapped inside a whale, I may come to regret the scorn I'm pouring on this entire endeavour. On that score, I'll take my chances.

Should you take a chance on Whalefall? Doubtful. Perhaps there is a strain of thrill-seekers who will enjoy it. Personally, I can categorically say I did not have a whale of a time.