Row (2025) Film Review – Never Ever Rock the Boat in the Middle of the Atlantic

Posted on by Dominic Duquiatan

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Horror on the high seas is an almost automatic trigger for unease. Even without a single drop of blood on screen, the mysteries of deep waters make us feel unsafe—especially when we plunge ourselves into them. But Matthew Losasso’s Row (2025) isn’t about that primal fear of what lurks beneath.

What made Jaws truly memorable wasn’t just the “monster” beneath, but the way it tested human power and bravado in an environment where human control is minimal. Row finds its footing in a similar way, not by asking whether the deep ocean scares us, but whether drifting above it is any less terrifying. Do we take that for granted, or does it hold its own brand of dread?

The film begins with a trans-Atlantic world-record attempt: four ambitious rowers determined to make history. But soon, Bella Dayne’s character washes ashore in a blood-stained boat… alone. Her crewmates are missing, presumed dead. Wracked by trauma and fractured memories, she must prove her innocence while seeking justice for those lost to the sea.

Row is a moody, atmospheric film that demands patience to appreciate fully. At its heart is a meditation on how human pride can lead to destruction. The cinematography plays a vital role, where wide shots constantly remind us of the vastness of the ocean and the fragility of the tiny boat, while close-ups capture raw, intimate reactions that hint at how claustrophobic proximity can be just as dangerous as the elements. One particularly striking visual motif contrasts Megan’s isolation in a cramped room with the boundless ocean outside, proving that helplessness can find a person anywhere, whether trapped by walls or by their own mind.

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The tension in Row simmers more than it explodes. Accidents—dreaded but inevitable—arrive in the worst ways possible, yet the film often refuses to confront them directly. Instead, they hang unresolved, adding to the overall misery and preventing the characters from finding even small triumphs in the face of doom.

There are moments of chilling moral compromise, such as when the crew throws their heater overboard to reduce weight, sacrificing each other’s comfort (and safety) for personal survival. The ocean itself becomes an active force in the narrative, amplifying grief, testing resilience, and forcing each character to wrestle with internal demons. This is both the film’s strength and weakness: while these unresolved tensions deepen the mood, they also leave characters feeling incomplete, which may frustrate viewers seeking connection or catharsis in a survival story.

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The ending may prove divisive. It delivers a sudden, unexpected twist that some may appreciate for its shock value, but it risks feeling disconnected from the film’s central themes. Rather than offering a final note of resilience or closure, it undercuts the possibility of triumph for the vulnerable, leaning instead into a bleakness reminiscent of Eden Lake. It’s a choice that reinforces the film’s oppressive tone from start to finish, but for many, it may feel less like a bold narrative move and more like a final wave pulling the story under.

At just over two hours, Row can feel drawn-out, especially given its focus on emotional stalemates and slow-burn tensions. Yet, for those willing to immerse themselves fully, the film offers moments of haunting beauty and quiet devastation that linger long after the credits roll.

ROW (2025) will be in UK Cinemas from 29th August

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