If you’ve ever watched Cast Away and thought, “This would be better with less volleyball and more sea demon,” Sweetheart is basically your wish granted by a very spiteful ocean god.
It’s a lean, stripped-down survival horror movie that quietly does about twelve things better than most big-budget monster flicks: it’s tense, focused, gorgeously shot, and built around one character who refuses to die just because the universe is clearly trying to schedule her funeral on repeat.
Also, the movie is 90 minutes long and understands the radical concept of “get to the point,” which in itself should earn it an award.
Meet Jenn: Patron Saint of ‘I’m So Tired, But I Refuse to Die’
Our heroine is Jennifer “Jenn” Remming (Kiersey Clemons), who starts the movie already having had the worst day of her life: the boat she’s on sinks during a storm, she washes up on a small tropical island, and her friend Brad is lying nearby looking like a cautionary tale about boating safety.
Brad dies quickly, which is honestly considerate of him, because this is not his movie.
Jenn surveys the island, finds graves and belongings of some long-gone family, and does what you’d hope a real person would do in this situation:
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She sets up shelter
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She finds food
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She buries Brad like a half-competent adult
…Only to wake up the next morning and discover someone or something has dug him up and dragged his body into the sea.
This is the moment where most of us would simply perish out of sheer refusal to cope. Jenn’s reaction is more like: Seriously? Okay. New problem. Noted.
Cast Away, But Make It Horror
The first half of Sweetheart is essentially Jenn vs. Island with occasional guest appearances by “whatever took Brad.” She:
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Scavenges supplies from the wreckage
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Recovers her luggage and some gear
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Notices an ominous, yawning hole in the seafloor like the ocean has a belly button that leads directly to hell
At night, things escalate. She misses her best chance at rescue by failing to catch a passing airplane with a flare, and the universe, in response, sends its representative: a giant humanoid sea monster that crawls out of the dark waves like it’s clocking in for its shift as Nighttime Island Terror.
The creature design is honestly great: lanky, white-eyed, and amphibious in all the wrong ways, like a deep-sea fish and a wendigo had a baby and forced it to live in a cave. It’s not over-explained, it’s not named, and it doesn’t come with lore. It simply shows up every night to hunt. Like rent.
Jenn spends four nights playing increasingly stressful games of “don’t get seen, don’t get grabbed, don’t die.” She sleeps in trees, hides in the brush, and slowly pieces together its patterns. At one point, another friend, Zack, washes ashore bisected and mangled. Jenn, in a truly dark but practical move, decides: “Right, well, that’s bait now.”
Is it grim? Absolutely. Is it efficient? Also yes.
Other People Arrive, Instantly Make Everything Worse
Just when you’re fully invested in this one-woman war against a sea monster, the movie drops in two more survivors: Jenn’s boyfriend Lucas and her friend Mia, clinging to life on a raft that’s seen better days and probably better owners.
Jenn is ecstatic not to be alone anymore. Then she remembers she’s met these people.
She tells them, very reasonably, that there is a massive monster that emerges from the water every night and that they absolutely must leave before dark. Lucas and Mia respond the way horror movie side characters traditionally do: with a mix of disbelief, condescension, and “clearly you’re the crazy one here.”
Jenn spots Lucas’ pocketknife covered in blood, which vibes extremely badly with the bisected Zack situation. The movie never fully spells out what happened, but between Lucas’ sketchy behavior and the gore in the lifeboat, let’s just say the monster might not be the only thing that likes to break people in half.
Jenn tries to take matters into her own hands by fleeing on the raft herself. Lucas and Mia respond like civilized adults in a life-or-death situation: they drag her out, knock her unconscious with a paddle, and tie her up. Nothing says “healthy relationship” like concussing your girlfriend when she tries to escape the murder island.
While Jenn is tied up, Mia and Lucas argue, ignore her repeated “hey, death is coming from the ocean” warnings, and generally behave like people auditioning to be eaten.
The sea monster, ever punctual, shows up and attacks, instantly validating everything Jenn has said for the past 24 hours. Mia is dragged into the water and killed. Lucas tries to play action hero, fails miserably, and Jenn—still tied up—has to save him.
At this point, it’s very clear the only person qualified to be on this island is Jenn, and the others are just here to pad the creature’s protein intake.
The Sea Has Had Enough of These People
Jenn and Lucas try one more escape attempt with the bloody raft. They’ve barely made it any distance before the monster decides, “Nope,” and attacks the raft from below like a one-creature Sharknado.
Jenn gets dragged down toward the ominous ocean hole—yes, the same one from earlier, because this film believes in setup and payoff. While being pulled into aquatic hell, she remembers Lucas’ pocketknife and stabs the monster, forcing it to let go.
The creature goes for the easier target instead and drags Lucas to his doom in a moment that can only be described as “natural selection with extra steps.”
Now alone—and honestly better off—Jenn stops running.
Final Girl, But Make It War
At this point, the movie could’ve let Jenn just keep surviving. Instead, it makes a much better choice: she decides to turn the island into a trap and hunt the monster back.
She:
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Catalogs what’s happened in a journal, just in case someone else ends up here and wants a heads-up about the nightly demon patrol
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Sets up a giant wooden circle of fire like a budget-friendly ritual sacrifice arena
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Gathers bones and branches from that family graveyard she found earlier and turns them into makeshift weapons
When the monster comes ashore that night, Jenn lights the trap and goes to work. This is the payoff the movie’s been quietly earning: a brutal, sweaty, desperate brawl between one stubborn human and a towering amphibious nightmare surrounded by roaring flames.
They wreck each other. She stabs and slashes. It claws and hurls her around. Both are badly injured, but Jenn refuses to die out of sheer spite. Eventually, the creature collapses on the shoreline, badly wounded. Jenn finishes it the old-fashioned way: by decapitating it.
She then drags herself back to the shore, limping, exhausted, and carrying the monster’s severed head like the world’s worst party favor. It’s her trophy, her proof, and a giant middle finger to anything else that thinks she’s prey.
Why Sweetheart Works (Even When Nothing Much “Happens”)
On paper, Sweetheart is so small it almost sounds boring:
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One primary character
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One island
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One monster
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A couple of doomed humans passing through
But that’s exactly why it works. It knows what story it’s telling and ruthlessly trims everything else.
Some reasons it hits so hard:
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Kiersey Clemons absolutely carries the film – There are long stretches where she’s alone, muttering to herself, problem-solving, or just reacting, and she’s magnetic the entire time.
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The monster is mysterious but not overused – We see just enough to fear it, never enough to get bored.
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It respects competence – Jenn isn’t perfect, but she’s smart, practical, and learns fast. She doesn’t survive through luck; she survives through stubborn intelligence.
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It’s horror that doubles as a character study – The biggest arc is Jenn going from “I hope someone saves me” to “I am the thing that kills the thing.”
And underneath it all, there’s this darkly funny truth: the sea monster is terrifying, but the most exhausting part of Jenn’s experience might actually be dealing with the men in her life who refuse to believe her until it’s way too late.
Final Verdict: Island Retreat From Hell (Five Stars, Would Not Book Again)
Sweetheart is a satisfyingly vicious little survival horror film that proves you don’t need a massive cast, endless lore, or jump scares every four seconds to make something intense, memorable, and fun.
You just need:
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One pissed-off, resourceful woman
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One beautifully gross sea monster
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And the unshakable commitment to set both of them on fire and see who walks out
If the apocalypse ever strands you on a monster-filled island, pray you have half of Jenn’s grit. And maybe pack a spare flare gun.
