Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge (2025) is a genre-bending spectacle that mashes up survival horror, sci-fi action, and a slow-burn romance into a cinematic cocktail that’s as audacious as it is uneven. Starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy as two snipers guarding a mysterious abyss, the film oscillates between heart-pounding thrills and existential musings, all while delivering Apple TV+’s most visually ambitious blockbuster to date. Though its narrative stumbles under the weight of its lofty ambitions, The Gorge ultimately shines as a testament to the power of human connection in the face of cosmic dread.

A Premise Ripe for Metaphor

At its core, The Gorge is a love story framed by apocalyptic stakes. Levi (Miles Teller), a PTSD-riddled American sniper, and Drasa (Anya Taylor-Joy), a guilt-stricken Lithuanian operative, are stationed on opposite ends of a fog-shrouded chasm. Their mission: to guard the world from an unseen evil lurking below. The gorge itself—a classified location speculated to be in Norway or Siberia—serves as both a physical barrier and a metaphor for the emotional chasms separating humanity. Director Scott Derrickson (Doctor Strange, Sinister) wastes no time establishing the eerie isolation of their posts, with cinematography that juxtaposes the stark beauty of snow-capped cliffs against the claustrophobic tension of watchtowers.

The early acts thrive on the chemistry between Teller and Taylor-Joy. Their characters communicate via Morse code, shared poetry (Levi quotes T.S. Eliot; Drasa blasts The Ramones), and longing gazes through rifle scopes. It’s a “meet-cute” for the end times, blending The Notebook’s earnestness with Enemy at the Gates’ wartime tension. Derrickson cleverly uses the gorge’s invisibility on satellite maps as a metaphor for the unseen emotional walls we build—until love, like a rogue bullet, shatters them.

When Monsters Undermine the Metaphor

Midway through, the film pivots sharply from romantic thriller to creature feature. The titular “Hollow Men”—slimy, skeletal mutants crawling out of the abyss—evoke Stranger Things’ Demogorgons but lack the same menace. While their design is visually striking (a mix of practical effects and CGI), their introduction marks the point where The Gorge begins to falter. The gorge’s secret, revealed as a WWII-era lab experimenting on soldiers, feels derivative of Resident Evil and Overlord, diluting the existential dread that made the first act so compelling.

Critics are divided here. IGN’s A.A. Dowd praises the shift as a “striking departure from Marvel-esque formula,” while IndieWire’s David Ehrlich laments the “obvious resolution to a potentially rich premise”. Both have a point: The action sequences—including a Mad Max-worthy Jeep dangle over the gorge—are thrilling but tonally jarring. The film’s second half leans too heavily on spectacle, sidelining the introspective character work that made Levi and Drasa relatable.

Performances That Elevate the Script

Teller and Taylor-Joy are the film’s beating heart. Teller brings a rugged vulnerability to Levi, whose insomnia and survivor’s guilt manifest in hushed voiceovers and erratic drumming sessions (a nod to Whiplash). Taylor-Joy, meanwhile, steals every scene with Drasa’s quiet intensity. Whether dancing to punk rock or dismantling a government conspiracy, she embodies a warrior-poet archetype rarely afforded to female leads. Their Oscar-worthy performances anchor even the silliest plot twists, making their romance feel earned rather than contrived.

Sigourney Weaver’s cameo as a shadowy Black Ops commander adds gravitas but underutilizes her talents. Her character’s exposition-heavy monologues about “containing the truth” feel like missed opportunities to deepen the film’s critique of military-industrial complexes.

Visuals: A Feast for the Eyes

Where The Gorge truly excels is its technical craftsmanship. Cinematographer Bojan Bazelli (The Lone Ranger) transforms the gorge into a character itself—a liminal space where mist curls like smoke and sunlight filters through rifle scopes. The use of infrared imagery during nighttime patrols creates a haunting, video-game-like aesthetic, while the gorge’s interior (a neon-lit labyrinth of caves) channels Annihilation’s psychedelic horror.

The action choreography is equally impressive. A sequence where Levi and Drasa snipe Hollow Men while rappelling down cliffs is a masterclass in tension, blending slow-motion carnage with intimate close-ups of their synchronized movements. Even the quieter moments—like Drasa sketching Levi’s silhouette through a scope—are rendered with painterly precision.

Themes: Love as an Act of Rebellion

Beneath its blockbuster veneer, The Gorge grapples with weighty themes. The Hollow Men, revealed to be mutated soldiers, symbolize the dehumanizing cost of war and capitalism. As Drasa notes, “They’re not monsters—they’re what happens when governments treat people as expendable”. This critique of systemic exploitation resonates in an era of endless wars and corporate greed, though the film’s messaging occasionally gets lost in the chaos.

More profoundly, the gorge becomes a metaphor for emotional repression. Levi’s poetry and Drasa’s music—tools they use to cope with trauma—are acts of defiance against a world that demands silence. Their decision to cross the gorge (via a rickety zipline) isn’t just a plot device; it’s a rejection of the isolation imposed by authority. In a standout scene, they slow-dance to David Bowie’s “Heroes” amidst mutant corpses, transforming horror into hope.

Flaws in the Fracture

For all its ambition, The Gorge stumbles in its pacing and tonal shifts. The first hour’s meditative pace clashes with the frenetic third act, leaving subplots—like Drasa’s father’s death—underdeveloped. Screenwriter Zach Dean (The Batman) packs in too many ideas (war crimes! AI! Existentialism!) without fully exploring any. The ending, while emotionally satisfying, feels rushed, with a deus ex machina involving a rogue AI (voiced by an uncredited Cate Blanchett) that raises more questions than answers.

Final Verdict: A Messy Masterpiece

The Gorge is a film of contradictions: It’s both profound and preposterous, intimate and overstuffed. Yet its flaws are eclipsed by its audacity. By merging romance and horror, Derrickson crafts a love story that feels genuinely apocalyptic—not because the world is ending, but because love, in all its irrational glory, might just save it.

For viewers seeking a thought-provoking popcorn flick, The Gorge delivers. Just don’t expect all its threads to knot neatly. As Levi muses in the film’s closing moments: “Maybe the gorge wasn’t meant to be understood—just survived.”