The Gorge Review: A Genre-Bending, Offbeat Adventure

Scott Derrickson’s film The Gorge is a curious blend of horror, sci‑fi, action, and romance that attempts to defy genre boundaries while embracing a distinctly offbeat narrative. The movie follows two elite snipers tasked with guarding a deep, foggy chasm that hides unknown terrors. While the film offers moments of genuine intrigue and stylistic flair, its uneven execution and occasional narrative missteps ultimately keep it from reaching the heights it aspires to. Our review of The Gorge at a solid 7 out of 10.

At its core, the story centers on Levi, played by Miles Teller, and Drasa, portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy. Levi is a battle-hardened, disciplined marksman with a military past, carrying emotional scars that hint at deeper issues. His calm, steady presence sets the tone for a character burdened by duty and isolation. In contrast, Drasa is a skilled and independent sniper from a different corner of the world—vibrant, rebellious, and unafraid to break the rules. Their assignment is simple in description but daunting in practice: guard a vast gorge from creatures known as the “Hollow Men”. These monsters, emerging from the dark depths of the chasm, not only serve as a tangible threat but also symbolize the internal and external battles the characters face.

The film’s setting is a character in itself. The gorge is vast and mysterious, shrouded in mist and silence, evoking a sense of isolation that is both beautiful and foreboding. The watchtowers, where Levi and Drasa maintain their posts, heighten this atmosphere by emphasizing the vast distance and physical barrier between them. Each time the camera lingers on these towers and the yawning void that separates them, it reinforces the film’s central idea: two isolated souls must find a way to communicate and connect despite the imposing chasm that divides them.

The Gorge opens at a deliberately slow pace. Early on, viewers watch Levi arrive at his remote post—a place where time seems to stand still and the monotony of duty is punctuated by moments of unease. The film does not immediately dive into rapid-fire action or dramatic monologues; instead, it lingers on the quiet details, establishing the weight of the task at hand. We learn that Levi’s assignment is not merely about keeping watch, but about preventing something far worse from emerging from the depths. This measured pace builds tension and sets the mood, yet at times it verges on indulgence, testing the patience of those expecting a more dynamic opening.

One of the film’s most interesting aspects is the unconventional relationship between Levi and Drasa. Initially, these two soldiers communicate only through signals, handwritten messages, and playful gestures, as they inhabit opposite sides of a vast, impersonal chasm. Their interactions begin without face-to-face contact, allowing for moments of understated humor and tenderness to emerge in an otherwise grim environment. As the days pass, small exchanges—ranging from competitive target challenges to the exchange of amusing notes—add a human touch to an otherwise bleak routine. However, while these scenes succeed in establishing a slow-burning connection, they sometimes feel contrived and overly reliant on familiar rom‑com tropes that clash with the film’s darker themes.

Miles Teller’s performance as Levi is understated and grounded. His portrayal of a soldier burdened by isolation and past trauma is commendable, and his subtle emotional shifts lend depth to a character defined by discipline. Yet, despite Teller’s efforts, Levi occasionally comes off as too stoic, and his character’s inner conflicts are not always fully explored. Anya Taylor-Joy, as Drasa, delivers an energetic and vibrant performance that stands out against the film’s muted palette. Her character is portrayed as a free spirit, yet her development sometimes feels superficial, as if the script is unsure whether to treat her as a hardened warrior or a lighthearted rebel. Their chemistry is present but not electrifying, and it never quite compensates for the film’s uneven storytelling.

Our review of The Gorge agrees that its visuals are one of its stronger points. The cinematography captures the raw, untouched beauty of the landscape, with the vast, fog‑shrouded gorge serving as a stunning, if ominous, backdrop. The interplay of light and shadow in each frame highlights both the isolation of the setting and the stark contrasts between the dark, foreboding gorge and the relatively intimate spaces of the watchtowers. The use of natural light and fog enhances the film’s mysterious atmosphere, making the environment almost a character in its own right. This visual strength, however, is sometimes undermined by a lack of narrative focus. While the gorge itself is beautifully rendered, its role as a symbolic force—representing isolation and hidden danger—is occasionally lost amid the film’s shifting tonal ambitions.

Action sequences in The Gorge are choreographed with care and provide some of the film’s most exciting moments. When the creatures known as the “Hollow Men” finally emerge, the film shifts gears into bursts of kinetic energy that feel both nostalgic and refreshing. The practical effects—which recall classic creature features—lend a tangible quality to the monster encounters that CGI-heavy modern films often miss. There is a raw, almost old-fashioned quality to these scenes that gives them an edge, even if the overall execution sometimes feels derivative. The excitement of these sequences is undeniable, yet they are not frequent enough to fully redeem the film’s slower, more uneven passages.

The film’s score, composed by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, is another highlight. The haunting and dynamic soundtrack plays a crucial role in setting the mood, oscillating between subtle, introspective themes during quiet moments and swelling, urgent compositions during action sequences. The music enhances both the tension and the emotional undercurrents of the narrative, acting as a vital counterpoint to the sometimes uneven dialogue and pacing. In many ways, the score is one of the film’s most consistent elements, underscoring the strengths of The Gorge even as its narrative wavers.

Despite its visual and auditory strengths, our review of The Gorge finds that the film struggles with an identity crisis. The film ambitiously attempts to merge horror, action, and romance, yet the transitions between these elements are not always smooth. The narrative occasionally feels like it is pulled in different directions—one moment focusing on the quiet despair of isolation, the next on the explosive terror of monster attacks, and then on the playful yet predictable banter between its two leads. This disjointed approach creates a sense of unevenness that detracts from the overall impact of the film. The attempts at humor and romance sometimes feel out of place in a setting that is meant to be dark and foreboding, resulting in tonal inconsistencies that prevent the film from fully committing to any one mood.

Critically, the dialogue in The Gorge is a mixed bag. There are moments when the lines resonate with a dry wit that suits the film’s offbeat sensibility. However, much of the dialogue falls back on clichés and predictable banter, which undermines the potential complexity of the characters’ interactions. The script occasionally slips into overly familiar territory, with exchanges that feel more like homage to genre conventions than organic, character-driven moments. While Teller and Taylor-Joy do their best to infuse life into their roles, even the strongest performances cannot always mask a script that struggles to balance its ambitions.

The film also suffers from pacing issues that impact its overall narrative flow. The early segments, laden with backstory and exposition, slow down the momentum, making the eventual shifts into action feel somewhat abrupt. This uneven pacing is a recurring problem, as the film sometimes lingers too long on building atmosphere at the expense of narrative progression. In contrast, the more dynamic action sequences, while thrilling, seem to arrive too late to fully engage viewers who have already grown impatient with the initial build‑up. The result is a film that, despite its creative premise and occasional bursts of brilliance, struggles to maintain a consistent tempo throughout its 1700‑word-long exploration of isolation, danger, and unexpected connection.

The thematic exploration of loneliness and human connection is one of the film’s more thoughtful aspects. In the vast emptiness of their isolated outposts, both Levi and Drasa confront the deep‑seated need for companionship—a need that becomes apparent through their tentative attempts to bridge the physical and emotional gap between them. This theme is handled with a quiet sincerity that elevates the narrative beyond simple genre conventions. However, while the film sets up this potential with care, it ultimately does not fully delve into the emotional depths of its characters. The exploration of isolation and connection remains on the surface, never fully unraveling the complexities of the characters’ inner lives. As a result, the film’s more meaningful moments are fleeting, overshadowed by the more bombastic elements of horror and action.

The supporting cast, though limited, adds a measure of gravitas to the film. Sigourney Weaver, in a brief but memorable role, plays a figure of authority who oversees the assignment. Her presence injects a sense of weight into the narrative, even if her screen time is minimal. Likewise, Sope Dirisu provides essential exposition early on, clarifying the stakes and the nature of the assignment for both the characters and the audience. While these supporting roles are not deeply developed, they serve to ground the story in a reality that is at once fantastical and familiar. Their contributions, though small, help to balance the film’s more eccentric elements and provide moments of clarity amid the shifting tones.

In its best moments, The Gorge captures an infectious energy that recalls the daring, unpredictable spirit of classic B‑movies. When the film finally transitions into full‑blown action—when the “Hollow Men” burst forth and the tension reaches its zenith—the experience becomes exhilarating. The sequences are chaotic and filled with surprises, offering flashes of the audacity that inspired the film’s ambitious blending of genres. These high‑octane moments are where The Gorge truly shines, even if they are interspersed with stretches of slower, more ponderous storytelling. The practical effects, energetic camera work, and dynamic editing coalesce to create scenes that are both thrilling and memorable, even if they are not enough to carry the film as a whole.

Yet, for all its creative ambitions, The Gorge ultimately feels like a film that never quite decides what it wants to be. Its attempts to balance horror, action, and romance result in a narrative that is as scattered as it is inventive. The film’s visual and auditory strengths are undeniable, and the performances of Teller and Taylor-Joy are engaging, but these elements are occasionally undermined by a script that relies too heavily on familiar tropes and uneven pacing. The dialogue, while occasionally witty, is often hampered by clichés that detract from the film’s potential to offer a more profound commentary on isolation and human connection. The result is a film that is enjoyable and occasionally brilliant, but ultimately flawed—a solid effort that lands at a respectable 7 out of 10.

Our review of The Gorge finds the film to be ambitious in its desire to defy genre conventions, but it does so at the cost of a coherent narrative. Its strengths in visual storytelling, sound design, and moments of raw, unfiltered action are sometimes lost in a haze of pacing issues and tonal shifts. The film’s exploration of loneliness and connection hints at a deeper resonance that remains largely unfulfilled, and the character development, though present, does not fully capture the potential complexity of its leads. While the film is a commendable effort—one that dares to mix elements that many modern films shy away from—it ultimately remains a work in progress, an experiment that is as bold as it is uneven.

In conclusion, The Gorge is a film that offers more than just a conventional monster movie. It dares to merge disparate genres—horror, sci‑fi, action, and romance—into a single, offbeat narrative. Its visual splendor and haunting score elevate the material, while the performances of Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy provide a human touch to an otherwise cold and isolated world. However, the film is marred by uneven pacing, clichéd dialogue, and tonal inconsistencies that prevent it from fully realizing its ambitious vision. For viewers willing to overlook these flaws, The Gorge provides an engaging, if imperfect, cinematic experience that challenges expectations and invites reflection on the nature of isolation and connection.

Ultimately, The Gorge is a bold experiment that, while not perfect, succeeds in offering a fresh take on familiar themes. It reminds us that even in the most desolate places, the desire for human connection endures. Its mix of suspense, action, and romance creates a narrative that is as unpredictable as it is engaging, despite its flaws. In a landscape dominated by formulaic plots and safe storytelling, The Gorge stands out for its willingness to take risks and challenge conventional boundaries. Though it may falter in its execution, its creative ambitions and striking visuals leave a lasting impression—a film that is as memorable for its imperfections as it is for its daring attempts at innovation.

Scott Derrickson’s vision is evident throughout The Gorge: a film that dares to blend genres and defy expectations. It is a story about isolated individuals forced to confront not only external horrors but also their internal demons, and it captures fleeting moments of beauty and humanity amid the chaos. While the film ultimately settles at a 7 out of 10—solid but not exceptional—it is a worthwhile journey for those who appreciate genre‑bending narratives and the occasional flash of brilliance that emerges from creative risk‑taking. The Gorge may not fully satisfy every expectation, but it remains an intriguing, if flawed, adventure that dares to explore the spaces between fear and tenderness, isolation and connection, all set against the haunting backdrop of a mysterious, fog‑filled gorge.