The Woman in Cabin 10 (United Kingdom/United States, 2025)

For the most part, Netflix has two modes of films: high-profile prestige projects and “lesser” titles that use recognizable stars to lure bigger audiences. The Woman in Cabin 10 fits snugly into the latter category. For lack of a better description, it’s the movie equivalent of a beach book: fast-paced, compulsively watchable, and riddled with plot holes and dumb contrivances. The thing about this sort of movie is that one can acknowledge it’s objectively not a quality production while still appreciating it for what it is. It’s the kind of thing to enjoy when your brain is fried or your attention span sapped. In fact, the movie probably works better when viewed by someone at diminished capacity—its flaws won’t be quite as obvious.

On the sliding scale of “refrigerator movies,” with Hitchcock at the top, The Woman in Cabin 10 lands somewhere in the middle (believe me, there are far worse options out there). With names like Keira Knightley and Guy Pearce on the cast list, the production isn’t exactly slumming, but neither of these high-profile actors can be said to deliver memorable or awards-worthy performances. They know what the job demands and do what’s necessary to collect the paycheck. Prolific theater director Simon Stone, who’s still relatively new to moviemaking, turns in a workmanlike job with limited material. Co-adapting (with Joe Shrapnel and Anna Waterhouse) Ruth Ware’s 2016 novel, he earns high marks for pacing but low marks for character development. Not a single individual in this movie—including the protagonist—boasts more than two dimensions. But at a svelte 95 minutes and without requiring a trip to a theater, you might not care.

Most of the movie takes place aboard a luxury yacht on a three-day cruise organized by dying billionaire Anne Bullmer (Lisa Loven Kongsli) and her somewhat smarmy husband, Richard (Guy Pearce, who does smarmy exceedingly well). The purpose of the voyage is to raise money for a new cancer foundation Anne hopes to establish as part of her legacy. On board to cover the event are investigative journalist Lo Blacklock (Keira Knightley) and her ex-lover, freelance photographer Ben Morgan (David Ajala). The passenger list includes a number of unpleasant narcissists and self-absorbed prigs played by Art Malik, Hannah Waddingham, David Morrissey, Kaya Scodelario, and David Ings.

Although most of the paying cruise-goers do their best to ignore Lo—making snide comments about her clothes and low social status—Anne opens up to her about her plans. That’s when things start going bump in the night (literally). Lo awakens from a deep sleep to hear the sounds of a struggle from the cabin next door. Racing onto her balcony after hearing a splash, she sees a body disappear into the water. She raises the alarm, but her concerns are quickly dismissed. Everyone on board is accounted for. The cabin where she allegedly heard the sounds is unoccupied. A doctor suggests she might be suffering from PTSD related to a murder she witnessed while working on a previous story. When someone later tries to kill her, she’s accused of being delusional—or worse.

The storyline, which never rises above mediocrity, takes a considerable plunge as it moves toward its unsurprising resolution. (The filmmakers clearly didn’t cast with the intent of having anyone play against type.) Quite a bit of what happens in the final twenty minutes shatters the movie’s already tenuous grasp on credibility. One becomes invested in Lo not because she’s a well-developed character but because she’s plucky and played with disarming earnestness by Knightley.

Stone keeps things rolling downhill fast enough that we never think of jumping ship. Even the mandatory exposition scene (in which one character patiently explains everything to another) breezes by. The movie will likely hit the sweet spot for many viewers because it demands so little in terms of engagement that it’s easily digested—and just as easily voided. That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but there’s a time and a place for this sort of movie. In older days, it’s the kind of thing one might have stumbled upon while mindlessly channel-surfing at 2 a.m., then watched all the way through just to find out how it ends. There’s enough suspense to keep an itchy trigger finger from changing the channel but viewers hoping for more won’t find it here.

The Woman in Cabin 10 (United Kingdom/United States, 2025)