Introduction: The Submerged Knockoff
There’s a reason most horror movies take place on land. Land is where your budget can afford to buy things like lighting, sets, and competent dialogue. But in 1989, Hollywood decided the ocean was the new haunted house, leading to a bizarre glut of underwater horror: The Abyss, DeepStar Six, The Rift, Lords of the Deep—basically, the ocean floor got more traffic than a Florida retirement community. And among them came Leviathan, directed by George P. Cosmatos, who apparently looked at Alien and thought, “This would be better if Ripley was replaced by Peter Weller sulking in a wetsuit.”
The result? A film so derivative it makes Scary Movie look like Shakespeare. Leviathan is the cinematic equivalent of reheated leftovers: vaguely recognizable, kind of edible, and guaranteed to give you regret by morning.
The Plot: Soviet Booze, Mutant Goo
The story begins with Peter Weller as geologist Steven Beck, a man so devoid of charisma he makes seaweed look engaging. He’s stuck supervising an underwater mining crew for Tri-Oceanic Corporation, because apparently corporations in the future are still evil and still pay their employees in lies.
While working outside, crew member Sixpack (Daniel Stern, playing his usual role as the guy most likely to die first) stumbles across a sunken Soviet ship called the Leviathan. Inside, they find logs describing medical problems, as well as some vodka. Because in this film, the height of Soviet mystery isn’t nuclear secrets—it’s spiked Smirnoff.
Naturally, Sixpack and his buddy Bowman drink the vodka, immediately contract fish herpes, and start mutating into slimy monster blobs. Soon their corpses merge into one convenient Stan Winston creature, complete with tentacles, teeth, and enough slime to qualify as a Nickelodeon game show.
The rest of the movie follows the crew as they’re picked off one by one, until Beck survives just long enough to punch his evil corporate boss in the face. Because nothing screams “satisfying climax” like Peter Weller committing HR violations.
The Cast: Great Actors, Terrible Paychecks
The movie somehow convinced a handful of talented actors to sign contracts, possibly by promising them oxygen and dry socks.
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Peter Weller (RoboCop) spends the entire movie glaring like he’s wondering if he can get out of his contract by drowning.
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Richard Crenna (Rambo’s Colonel Trautman) plays the ship’s doctor, proving that even a war-hardened commander can be defeated by a script this bad.
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Amanda Pays does her best to be the movie’s Ripley, but she’s stuck with lines so flat they could’ve been Xeroxed.
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Ernie Hudson gives the best performance, mostly by looking visibly annoyed to be in the movie—which, frankly, is the most relatable emotion on screen.
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Daniel Stern hams it up as Sixpack, a man who drinks tainted vodka like it’s spring break in Daytona Beach.
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Meg Foster, with her ice-blue villain eyes, phones in the role of Evil CEO, then gets socked in the jaw by Peter Weller. Honestly, she wins.
The rest of the cast is a blur of stock characters: the guy who mutates, the guy who panics, the guy who dies off-screen. It’s like a bingo card of clichés, except no one’s having fun.
The Creature: Stan Winston Wasted
Now here’s the real crime: Stan Winston, the genius behind Aliens and The Thing, designed the monster. And yet the creature is hidden so often in shadows and murky water that it might as well be a sea cucumber with stage fright.
When you do see it, the design looks like a middle-schooler’s doodle of “a shark but also an octopus but also my gym teacher.” There are claws, tentacles, human faces awkwardly grafted into the flesh—it’s like a seafood platter that’s been left in the sun too long.
And yet, every time the movie starts to get good, the editing cuts away or the budget shows its cracks. Imagine hiring Picasso to paint your portrait, then insisting he only use crayons from a fast-food kids’ meal. That’s Leviathan.
The Deaths: Wet, Dumb, and Forgettable
Horror lives and dies by its kills. In Leviathan, it mostly dies.
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Sixpack mutates after drinking Soviet vodka, proving once again that alcohol is bad for your health.
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Bowman goes bald, panics, and commits suicide, which would be tragic if the movie didn’t treat it like a shampoo commercial gone wrong.
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Cobb gets clawed, mutates, and infects others—basically Patient Zero for a disease no one wanted.
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Doc gets infected too, because Richard Crenna’s agent clearly wanted him off the set as quickly as possible.
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DeJesus is attacked by a mutant tentacle in the kitchen, which feels like a deleted scene from The Muppet Show.
Most of these deaths happen in dark rooms with lots of screaming, as if the director thought if we couldn’t see anything, we’d assume it was terrifying. Spoiler: it’s not.
The Rip-Off Factor: Aliens, But Wet
Let’s be honest: Leviathan is less a movie and more a cinematic mash-up of other, better films.
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Crew trapped in an isolated location? That’s Alien.
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Shape-shifting, body-horror monster? That’s The Thing.
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Evil corporation treating workers as disposable assets? Aliens, again.
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Cold blue lighting, constant mist, and a soundtrack that sounds like leftover Blade Runner cues? All borrowed.
By the time Peter Weller punches his boss and declares he feels “better, a lot better,” you realize you could’ve just rewatched Alien and gotten better, too.
The Ending: Floaters
After 90 minutes of underwater bickering, the survivors reach the surface in a scene so abrupt it feels like the film ran out of money for scuba tanks. They’re rescued by the Coast Guard, who apparently had nothing better to do than wait for monster leftovers.
But wait! The creature follows them to the surface for one final attack. Weller kills it with a demolition charge, proving the monster isn’t so much indestructible as it is really bad at dodging explosives.
And then—corporate boss Meg Foster smirks, Weller punches her, credits roll. It’s less a climax and more a contractual obligation.
Dark Humor Highlights
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Drinking on the job doesn’t just get you fired here—it mutates you into sushi with teeth.
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The corporation declares the crew dead halfway through the film. Honestly, so did the audience.
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The monster design is great, but the camerawork hides it like the director was ashamed of spending the budget.
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Peter Weller punching his boss is the movie’s best scene, which says more about corporate America than it does about Leviathan.
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For a movie called Leviathan, the creature is never even referred to as such. It’s like titling your movie Sharknadoand then forgetting the sharks.
Final Verdict: Sink or Swim?
Leviathan is a cinematic shipwreck: too cheap to impress, too derivative to scare, and too earnest to be fun. Its greatest achievement is reminding us that just because you’re underwater doesn’t mean you’re deep.
It isn’t scary, it isn’t suspenseful, and it certainly isn’t original. But if you’re in the mood for a soggy rip-off with some great monster makeup you’ll barely see, then by all means dive in. Just don’t be surprised when you resurface wondering why you didn’t just watch Alien again.
