'Iron Lung' review: Markipiler’s ambitious but long slog into the blood ocean and indie filmmaking

Courtesy of Markipiler Studios

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Between Chris Stuckman’s “Shelby Oaks” and now Mark Fishbach, aka YouTuber Markiplier’s, “Iron Lung,” the content-creator-to-filmmaker pipeline appears to be more than a novelty. At the very least, theater owners are clearly paying attention to the fact that the old models of film distribution and exhibition have permanently shifted. “Iron Lung” is an ultra-low-budget adaptation of David Szymanski’s popular indie video game, and a quick glance at Fishbach’s YouTube channel makes it obvious why this project appealed to him as a feature debut. His Let’s Play videos, where he dives deep into games and broadcasts them to his roughly 38 million subscribers, thrive on immersion and tension. His playthrough of “Iron Lung” was among his most popular uploads, making this adaptation feel less like a gamble and more like an inevitability.

As Stuckman demonstrated last year, however, having a built-in audience or, in his case, a Kickstarter that raised close to $2 million, only gets you so far. You still need genuine filmmaking instincts. It is a small miracle to get any movie made, and “Iron Lung” is no exception. To Fishbach’s credit, he shows more promise than his YouTube peer when it comes to generating atmosphere and sustaining tension, particularly in a gnarly climax that involves an eye-popping amount of blood. There is a real sense that he understands how dread works, even when resources are limited.

But atmosphere alone cannot carry a two hour and ten minute film. Most of “Iron Lung” unfolds inside a cramped metal tube, on a set that often looks like it could have been borrowed from a “MacGruber” SNL sketch. At that runtime, the film becomes a cautionary tale about what happens when a director lacks a producer or editor with the authority to push back. Fishbach stars, produces, directs, and distributes the film himself, and it shows. Trimming at least thirty minutes from the final cut would not have betrayed the game’s structure. It likely would have honored it better, while keeping non-diehard fans more engaged.

There is no denying the passion behind “Iron Lung.” From a production standpoint, the enthusiasm is palpable, and in scattered moments, there is real promise behind the camera. But Fishbach also has to reckon with the demands of asking an audience to watch him, alone, for nearly the entire runtime. Being a natural on YouTube does not automatically translate to carrying a feature film. Unlike a Tom Hanks in “Cast Away,” Fishbach lacks the dramatic heft to sustain extended isolation. His performance frequently tips into forced intensity, especially during moments of distress, where the emotions feel pushed rather than earned. The result is a tone that veers into cheesiness at precisely the moments that should feel most harrowing.

Ironically, the film’s strongest element may be its lore. The world building is compelling and genuinely well suited for cinematic adaptation. Set in a distant future after a mysterious event known as the Quiet Rapture, a catastrophe in which stars and planets have vanished, the universe feels unsettling and bleak. Humanity clings to survival around a handful of remaining moons, including one covered entirely by a blood ocean, which is undeniably a striking concept. The story centers on a small submarine, the Iron Lung, descending into those depths with only one occupant: Simon, a convict played by Fishbach, tasked with retrieving samples of whatever lurks below.

Simon believes the mission is his path to freedom, but when things inevitably go wrong, his handlers abandon him. What follows is a spiral into psychological despair, hallucinations, and a familiar but serviceable backstory that explains how he ended up trapped in this situation. It is a solid narrative framework, even if the film never quite knows how to escalate it without repetition.

Behind the camera, Fishbach shows flashes of poise. Working within a tight budget that limits elaborate visual effects, he smartly leans into what the audience cannot see. Brief glimpses of the outside world and intermittent resurfacing sequences help break the monotony, but for roughly ninety five percent of the runtime, the film rests squarely on Fishbach’s shoulders. He is clearly comfortable being on camera, and there are fleeting moments where you can sense that, in more disciplined hands, his instincts might have been sharpened. Better pacing and tighter emotional control could have gone a long way.

The claustrophobic setting does allow for some creative visual choices. Wide angle cameras mounted in corners of the submarine provide an effective, almost surveillance-like perspective, and the eerie bursts of light from an X-ray camera capable of piercing the blood ocean produce genuinely unsettling imagery. These techniques inject urgency into the back half of the film. Unfortunately, a sluggish stretch around the forty five minute mark grinds the momentum to a halt, and the film never fully recovers its sense of forward motion.

Ultimately, it is the editing that weighs “Iron Lung” down the most. A confined setting demands rigor and economy, and the film too often indulges in repetition instead of escalation. Fishbach’s massive fanbase will almost certainly embrace the film regardless of these flaws, and that is their prerogative. From a distribution and theatrical standpoint, the success of “Iron Lung” is impossible to dismiss and may well mark a turning point for indie cinema. On that level, the achievement is impressive.

As a film, however, “Iron Lung” feels like a promising first draft rather than a finished product. If Fishbach takes another crack at directing with experienced collaborators who are willing to challenge him, the potential is undeniably there.

Grade: C

IRON LUNG is now playing in theaters.