The sun is supposed to be the enemy in a horror movie, but in Jesse V. Johnson’s Above & Below, it’s the merciless accomplice. Stranded in open water with nowhere to hide, the characters aren’t just fighting the criminals hunting them - they’re fighting the glaring, indifferent sky that turns every desperate breath into a countdown. The film, which hit OTT platforms on July 29, 2026, is a lean, mean 96-minute exercise in sun-bleached dread, and it’s exactly the kind of genre fare that streams best with the lights off and the volume up.
The premise is deceptively simple. A group of friends, led by Laura Marano’s Tatiana, set off for a vacation that promises endless parties and pristine diving spots. The opening act is all salt spray and careless laughter, the kind of hedonistic prologue that lulls you into a false sense of security. Johnson, a veteran of the action trenches, knows precisely how long to let the good times roll before the violence breaks the surface. What begins as a boozy adventure flips on a dime when a gang of criminals, spearheaded by a chillingly composed Antonio Banderas as Burns, commandeers their vessel. The friends aren’t just robbed; they’re cast adrift, left to bob in a marine purgatory while their attackers circle like sharks with a purpose.
What elevates Above & Below beyond its familiar survival-thriller bones is the uncomfortable friction between the two halves of its story. On one side, you have the gritty, pragmatic horror of a crime gone sour - Banderas, speaking in a low, measured cadence that suggests he’s done this a hundred times, doesn’t see the group as people but as loose ends to be managed. On the other side, you have the existential terror of dehydration, hypothermia, and the vast, empty horizon. Johnson cross-cuts between the two threats with a merciless rhythm, forcing the audience to choose which is worse: the known evil of Burns or the unknown silence of the deep.
Marano, best known for her Disney Channel pedigree, delivers a surprisingly grounded performance that anchors the chaos. Tatiana isn’t a scream queen or a action hero; she’s a relatable woman who makes bad decisions, panics convincingly, and then finds a feral instinct to survive that feels earned rather than scripted. She’s ably supported by Christina Ochoa, whose character brings a steely pragmatism to the group’s dwindling morale. The chemistry between the ensemble feels lived-in, which makes their disintegration all the more gripping. These aren’t polished protagonists spouting witty one-liners; they’re a bunch of people who genuinely like each other, and that affection makes the encroaching dread feel personal.
Directing with an efficiency born of a long career in the genre, Johnson keeps the pacing taut without sacrificing atmosphere. The cinematography leans into the oppressive brightness of the open sea, using the relentless sun as a punishing spotlight. The water itself is shot with a duality - gorgeous and crystalline on the surface, but shot with an ominous murkiness when the camera dips below. That visual tension mirrors the film’s central theme: the paradise that was promised is actually a prison.
Of course, being a Johnson film, Above & Below never forgets its action roots. When the setup finally pays off, the violence is blunt, wet, and startlingly real. There are no superhero feats here; every punch and desperate grab is clumsy and grounded. But the film is leaner on set-pieces than some might expect, choosing instead to build a slow-burning siege mentality. That’s a gamble. The current ratings reflect a split audience - a middling 6.2 on TMDb and a harsher 5.2 on IMDb suggest that viewers expecting a straight-up action thrill ride might feel shortchanged by the melancholic, survival-driven second half. But those who appreciate a slow-cooking thriller with a nasty edge will find plenty to admire.
The film’s greatest strength is its willingness to let silence do the talking. There’s a long, wordless sequence where the group simply floats, listening to the hull of their wrecked boat groan, that is far more nerve-wracking than any gunfight. It’s a bold choice in an era of overstimulated streaming content, and it pays off partly because Johnson trusts his cast to carry the anxiety via half-glances and trembling lips.
Above & Below isn’t a masterpiece, and its uneven reception proves it’s a divisive entry into the genre. But it’s a sharp, sun-scorched reminder that the most terrifying monsters aren’t always the ones with weapons. Sometimes, they’re the ones who leave you alone with your reflections in a world of endless water. For those willing to trade catharsis for lingering unease, this is a trip worth taking - just don’t expect to feel dry for a few hours afterward.
