No Way Up

I’ve always had this irrational fear that if I ever ended up in a survival situation, I’d be the first one to go because I’d spend too much time worrying about whether my phone was waterproof. Watching No Way Up, I realized that being stuck in a pressurized cabin at the bottom of the Pacific is exactly the kind of nightmare that renders my petty anxieties moot. I actually watched this while sitting in a very cramped dentist’s chair—the irony of feeling trapped while watching characters literally run out of air was not lost on me.

Directed by Claudio Fäh, a man who has spent a good chunk of his career navigating the waters of high-concept sequels like Hollow Man 2 and Sniper: Ultimate Kill, No Way Up is a quintessential 2024 "streaming-era" thriller. It’s the kind of movie that exists because a producer looked at a poster of a plane underwater and a shark and said, "Yes, people will click on that on a Tuesday night." And honestly? I was one of those people.

A literal cliffhanger at 2,000 feet down

The setup is aggressively efficient. We have Ava (Sophie McIntosh), the daughter of a high-profile politician, her boyfriend Jed (Jeremias Amoore), and his best friend Kyle (Will Attenborough, playing the "guy you hope the shark eats first" role with punchable perfection). Throw in a protective bodyguard played by the legendary Colm Meaney and a grandmother-granddaughter duo (Phyllis Logan and Grace Nettle), and you’ve got a classic disaster movie buffet.

The plane doesn’t just crash; it does a spectacular mid-air disintegration and settles precariously on the edge of an underwater ravine. This is where the film earns its keep. The physics are questionable, and the logic of how a giant metal tube doesn’t just implode under the pressure is best ignored if you want to have any fun at all. But the visual of that plane dangling over the abyss is genuinely effective. It creates a dual-layered claustrophobia: you’re trapped in a small space, and that small space is trapped on a crumbling ledge.

Sharks in the galley

In the post-Jaws world, every shark movie struggles with the "less is more" rule. No Way Up leans into the modern "more is more, but only when the CGI budget allows" philosophy. The sharks aren't just there; they are tactical geniuses who seem to know exactly when a character is having an emotional breakthrough so they can interrupt with a jump scare.

The horror mechanics here rely heavily on the murky, blood-clouded water of the cabin. Claudio Fäh uses the silence of the deep to great effect, punctured by the metallic groans of the sinking fuselage. It’s a very "now" kind of horror—it doesn't rely on the slow-burn dread of the 70s or the slasher tropes of the 80s. Instead, it’s a relentless series of "how much worse can this get?" scenarios designed for an audience with a short attention span.

I found the performances surprisingly grounded for such a silly premise. Colm Meaney, who I will always see as Chief O'Brien from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, brings a much-needed gravity to the first act. He’s the anchor. When the veteran actors like him and Phyllis Logan (shifting gears significantly from her Downton Abbey days) are on screen, you almost forget you’re watching a movie about sharks that apparently graduated from the school of stealth.

The logistics of the "Mid-Budget" beast

What strikes me about No Way Up is how it reflects the current state of cinema. Ten years ago, this might have been a Syfy Channel original with rubber fins and bad lighting. Today, thanks to advancements in virtual production and the demand for "premium" VOD content, it looks remarkably polished. The cinematography by Andrew Rodger makes the underwater grave feel expansive and terrifying rather than just a dark set.

There’s a bit of trivia that makes the film’s existence even more interesting: it was actually a massive sleeper hit in the Chinese box office, proving that the language of "plane crash + sharks" is globally understood. It was produced by Andy Mayson, who also wrote the script, and you can feel that "producer-brain" at work—every set piece feels calculated to maximize the budget.

It’s not trying to be The Abyss, and it’s certainly not Airplane!. It sits in that comfortable middle ground of "competent survivalism." While the dialogue occasionally veers into clichés so thick you could use them as a flotation device, the pacing is so brisk you don't have time to roll your eyes for long.

Ultimately, No Way Up is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a 90-minute exercise in tension that understands its limitations and plays to its strengths—namely, the primal fear of drowning and the secondary fear of being a snack. It won't change your life, and it probably won't be remembered as a classic of the genre, but it’s a perfectly functional thriller for an era where we just want to be distracted from our own screens by someone else's much worse day.

If you’re looking for a film that explores the human condition, keep walking. But if you want to see if a politician's daughter can outswim a Great White in a pressurized cabin while wearing a cocktail dress, pull up a chair. It’s a B-movie with an A-movie's wardrobe, and sometimes, that’s all you need for a Friday night. Just don't expect to feel like flying—or swimming—anytime soon.