The Woman in Cabin 10 – Film Review

Simon Stone’s The Woman in Cabin 10 sails into familiar waters of psychological paranoia and maritime mystery, but it never quite finds its sea legs. Adapted from Ruth Ware’s 2016 bestselling novel, the film attempts to be both a sleek, Hitchcockian thriller and a modern psychological drama about trauma and disbelief. Despite an impressive cast led by Keira Knightley and handsome production values, the end result is a film that drifts between genres, unsure whether to be a character study or a mystery thriller — and it doesn’t fully succeed as either.

From the start, The Woman in Cabin 10 promises intrigue. Laura “Lo” Blacklock (Keira Knightley) is an investigative journalist still recovering from a traumatic break-in when she’s assigned to cover the maiden voyage of the Aurora Borealis — a luxury superyacht owned by wealthy socialites Richard (Guy Pearce) and Anne Bullmer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw). The setup is ripe with potential: an isolated location, a protagonist whose grip on reality may be compromised, and a web of powerful, potentially dangerous figures.

The early scenes are among the film’s strongest. Stone, known for his deliberate pacing and psychological realism in The Dig and The Daughter, builds a sense of unease through small details: the subtle hum of the ship’s engines, the polished sterility of the yacht’s corridors, and the watchful gazes of guests who seem to be concealing something. When Lo believes she witnesses a woman being thrown overboard from the mysterious Cabin 10 — a cabin that supposedly has no registered occupant — the film teases the kind of paranoid mystery that once fueled Hitchcock and Polanski.

But while the foundation is sound, the structure that follows is less stable. Once Lo’s accusations are dismissed and her credibility questioned by both crew and passengers, the film struggles to sustain its tension. The middle act feels adrift, repeating beats of disbelief and gaslighting without deepening the mystery or exploring Lo’s unraveling psyche in meaningful ways.

Keira Knightley’s performance is the film’s most steadfast element. Her portrayal of Lo Blacklock is nuanced — fragile yet determined, jittery but intelligent. Knightley effectively captures the emotional residue of trauma, and her vulnerability feels lived-in. Her scenes of panic and self-doubt are compelling because Knightley plays them with restraint, avoiding melodrama. However, the script often leaves her stranded, forcing Lo to cycle through repetitive confrontations and predictable beats rather than allowing her inner transformation to evolve naturally.

Guy Pearce, as the enigmatic Richard Bullmer, delivers the kind of silky menace he’s long perfected. His charm teeters on the edge of something more sinister, making him an effective but somewhat archetypal antagonist. Gugu Mbatha-Raw, playing Anne Bullmer, brings warmth and quiet intelligence to her limited screen time, while David Ajala provides grounding as Ben, Lo’s ex-boyfriend and reluctant ally.

Unfortunately, several talented actors — including Kaya Scodelario, Art Malik, and Hannah Waddingham — are underutilized. Their characters orbit the central mystery but never feel integral to it. In particular, Malik’s Dr. Mehta could have provided a fascinating counterbalance to Lo’s instability, yet he remains a background presence.

Visually, The Woman in Cabin 10 is a feast. Cinematographer Ben Davis captures the eerie opulence of the Aurora Borealis in gleaming whites, cold blues, and flickering shadows that evoke the claustrophobia of luxury. The ship’s mirrored surfaces and confined cabins create a sense of constant surveillance and disorientation — a fitting metaphor for Lo’s psychological state. The sound design complements this atmosphere, with distant waves, mechanical creaks, and muffled thuds suggesting menace just out of sight.

Stone’s direction is confident on a visual level but inconsistent in tone. The film oscillates between taut thriller and character-driven drama, rarely committing fully to either. Its editing, particularly in the second act, often undercuts suspense by revealing too much too early or lingering too long on redundant exchanges. The tension builds and dissipates in uneven bursts, creating a rhythm that feels more plodding than propulsive.

There are glimpses of a stronger film beneath the surface — especially in Lo’s growing paranoia and her interactions with the mysterious woman of Cabin 10. These moments gesture toward a deeper commentary on how trauma distorts perception and how women’s fears are often dismissed as hysteria. Yet the screenplay by Joe Shrapnel and Anna Waterhouse handles these themes too literally, spelling out ideas that would be more powerful left ambiguous.

What The Woman in Cabin 10 ultimately lacks is momentum. After an intriguing first act, the narrative stagnates, caught in a loop of suspicion without escalation. The clues that Lo uncovers feel too conveniently placed, and the supporting characters’ motives are never fleshed out enough to sustain genuine mystery. The film’s third act attempts to inject urgency and action but feels rushed, leaving little time to absorb the emotional or psychological consequences of Lo’s ordeal.

Thematically, the story flirts with compelling ideas — trauma, truth, class disparity, and the veneer of luxury masking moral decay — but doesn’t explore them beyond surface-level gestures. Compared to other recent thrillers set in confined, high-society environments (Knives Out, Triangle of Sadness, A Haunting in Venice), The Woman in Cabin 10 feels oddly passive. It presents a setting rich with social and psychological potential but doesn’t interrogate it deeply enough.

Ruth Ware’s novel, while not universally acclaimed, worked in prose because it leaned heavily on internal perspective and unreliable narration — Lo’s journalistic voice drawing readers into her fractured mind. Translating that interiority to screen requires either stylistic daring or narrative ingenuity, and Stone’s adaptation offers neither. Voiceovers are used sparingly, but without them, Lo’s inner turmoil feels distant. We’re told she’s traumatized, anxious, and doubted, but the film doesn’t immerse us in her subjectivity enough to make us feel it.

Still, there’s merit in Stone’s craftsmanship. The film’s deliberate pace and attention to aesthetic detail suggest a filmmaker interested in atmosphere over cheap thrills. The problem is that atmosphere alone can’t substitute for narrative propulsion. For a mystery centered on the disappearance of a woman and the unraveling of deceit, the sense of danger feels strangely muted.

The Woman in Cabin 10 is a handsomely mounted but emotionally muted thriller — elegant to look at, competently acted, yet lacking in true suspense or thematic depth. Simon Stone’s direction gives the film a polished, almost art-house sheen, but the storytelling never grips the way it should. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a luxury cruise: stylish, scenic, and occasionally stirring, but too safe and slow to leave a lasting impression.

Keira Knightley’s performance elevates the material, grounding the film with emotional honesty, while Guy Pearce and Gugu Mbatha-Raw add gravitas to underwritten roles. However, a thriller needs to make audiences lean forward, not sit back admiring the view. By the time the credits roll, The Woman in Cabin 10 leaves you with the sensation of a journey that promised danger and discovery — but returned you safely, and blandly, to port.