Drop – A White-Knuckle Thriller Served at High Altitude

MOVIE REVIEW – There’s something deeply satisfying about a thriller that doesn’t dawdle, doesn’t meander, and knows exactly what kind of adrenaline jolt it’s aiming to deliver. Christopher Landon’s Drop is that kind of ride: a two-location nail-biter with a tight cast and laser-focused pacing that grabs you by the throat and refuses to let go.

Although its plot hinges on modern digital gadgets, Drop channels the old-school magic of lean, character-driven suspense. Meghann Fahy (The White Lotus) and Brandon Sklenar (1923) may be TV breakouts, but on the big screen, they’re pure movie star material—magnetic, compelling, and impossible to ignore. The camera eats them up, especially as they stumble through a single harrowing night that never lets up. They radiate the kind of screen presence that vintage thrillers used as their lifeblood.

The First Drop Hits Hard

Drop won’t top any all-time thriller lists, but in an age where genre flicks often get lost in identity crises, there’s a rare thrill in seeing a movie that’s unapologetically engineered like a rollercoaster. And that first drop? It’s a stomach-turner. Fahy plays Violet, introduced in a flashback doused in domestic violence. Her abusive ex—the father of her son Toby (Jacob Robinson)—ends up dead. Did Violet kill him? That’s a mystery the film keeps tucked away. Years later, she finally agrees to a dinner date with a guy named Henry (Sklenar), someone she’s only chatted with via text. He’s made reservations at a swanky Chicago rooftop restaurant called Palate. Running late, he tells her to wait at the bar.

That’s when the nightmare begins to unspool. After some forgettable run-ins with the hostess, bartender, a pianist, and an awkward blind date, Violet starts getting strange messages on an app called “DigiDrop.” They’re coming from someone nearby—inside the restaurant. At first, they seem like harmless jokes, maybe from a table of rowdy prom kids. But things take a sinister turn fast. One message shows a masked man in Violet’s apartment, threatening to kill Toby and Violet’s sister Jen (Violett Beane). The instructions are crystal clear: do exactly as the sender says, or her family dies.

Scream in Silence

As with any good hostage-in-plain-sight thriller, the number one rule is: don’t tell a soul. Much of the film’s tension hinges on Violet trying—and failing—to ask for help, in a world where no one is really listening. It’s a sharp metaphor for how abuse survivors often slip through the cracks, their voices drowned out by systemic indifference. As Henry tries to make sense of her increasingly erratic behavior, you start to worry that Drop might take the predictable detour of having the charming guy swoop in to save the day. But the script by Jillian Jacobs and Chris Roach dodges that bullet. This is Violet’s fight. It’s a survivor’s story, and she’s going to claw her way out, with or without a knight in shining armor.

Some actors lose their spark when moving from TV to cinema, but Fahy doesn’t miss a beat. She delivers raw emotion and gripping authenticity. If we didn’t believe what Violet is going through, the whole movie would collapse under the weight of its own contrivances. But Fahy keeps it grounded, and Landon knows he’s struck gold—rarely letting the camera stray from her. We live her panic, her confusion, her dread. Who’s tormenting her? Why her? And how the hell does she escape? Landon, best known for Happy Death Day and Freaky, leaves behind the comedic overtones of those films for something more grounded. But he never lets things get too heavy-handed. He’s a sharp director working with sharp collaborators—especially editor Ben Baudhuin and composer Bear McCreary—and the result is a thriller that hits all the right beats without taking itself too seriously.

Don’t Think, Just Hang On

Look, the plot of Drop doesn’t entirely hold water. If you think too long about the villain’s master plan, it starts to crumble. And the big twist? Not exactly earth-shattering. But none of that matters while you’re watching. This is thrill-a-minute storytelling, where the build-up and chaos are more important than the final reveal. And unlike most cinematic rollercoasters, this one doesn’t leave you dizzy—it leaves you wanting more.

– Gergely Herpai “BadSector” –