‘Killer Whale’ Isn’t Quite Killer [Review]
Aquatic carnage will never go out of style. Yes, Jaws set the gold standard, though I feel just as favorably toward Barracuda, Tentacles, or any killer sea monster film that surfaced in Jaws’ wake. Most famous among them is no doubt Michael Anderson’s Orca. It’s an exceptional movie, far better than its contemporaneous reception suggested, and it yields a thematic resonance Jaws doesn’t—these are just animals, not killers.
Jo-Anne Brechin’s Killer Whale is no Orca. It doesn’t have the gravitas of Charlotte Rampling or Richard Harris, and it doesn’t have the unmitigated audacity to let its killer whale level an entire seaside village. Brechin’s stab at aquatic horror is more modest, ironically paralleling another recent Virginia Gardner genre feature, Scott Mann’s Fall. Killer Whale, to its detriment, emphasizes interpersonal conflict over the titular whale. Sometimes, empathy is a killer.
That’s not all bad, and Killer Whale, for what it’s worth, isn’t a bad movie. It’s nicely shot, save for some conspicuous digital effects, and Gardner has proven herself adept at managing even the slightest of genre characterizations. Here, she’s best conceptualized as a bereaved, former cellist, and that’s all there really is (though the cello playing is really only ancillary to her Big Sad feelings). Killer Whale features not one, but two different cold opens before jumping forward a year to really push her toward a breaking point.
Gardner’s Maddie is grief-stricken, and former classmate turned influencer Trish (Mel Jarnson) has the perfect remedy—a tropical getaway to see Maddie’s favorite orca, Ceto. Yes, alongside the cello, Maddie is inexplicably obsessed with orcas. Blackfish, your legacy endures. She’s devastated by Ceto’s captivity, though hunky local, Josh (Mitchell Hope), figures a jet ski trip to a remote lagoon is just what she and Trish need to unwind. Carnage ensues.
Killer Whale strikes an uneven balance between environmental activism and horror movie thrills. Regularly, we’re reminded that orcas are not only not whales, but also not naturally aggressive, though the titular beast’s rhythms come straight from The Shallows, sneaking in and out of frame like a masked slasher despite its size. It’s there to jump scare, rip off limbs, and terrorize Trish and Maddie for the duration of the film.
It’s a monster that behaves like a monster, though Killer Whale never quite settles on whether we should fear it or grieve for it. I opted for both, and Killer Whale was better for it. Its aquatic antics are familiar– slo-mo swimming, close calls from beneath the surface, characters reduced to shouting “Come on, faster!” on repeat—though even reheated leftovers have some zest.
Scale is often a constraint, and Killer Whale has few, if any, notable set pieces, with most of the movie confined to a single outcrop in the middle of the lagoon. That’s all fine and good when the orca finally gets its due. While it features too irregularly in a movie titled after it, Jo-Anne Brechin’s dip into aquatic horror has enough fun moving familiar pieces around to work. It’s certified, B-movie stuff, with some studio gloss to back it up. It may not be a killer game changer, but Killer Whale does a heckuva lot more than simply tread water.
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Killer Whale
Summary
Jo-Anne Brechin’s Killer Whale has a killer aquatic horror premise, but an uneven tone keeps it from monster movie greatness.
Categorized: Reviews
