Here’s a bold statement: The Woman in Cabin 10 is the Agatha Christie mystery for the TikTok generation—but does it hold up under scrutiny? Netflix’s latest thriller, starring Keira Knightley, promises intrigue and suspense, yet it feels more like a glossy distraction than a gripping whodunit. And this is the part most people miss: it’s a film that thrives on surface-level engagement, perfect for viewers who’d rather scroll than solve. But is that enough to make it memorable? Let’s dive in.
Knightley, known for her period dramas, has been steadily carving out a niche in the thriller genre, with roles in Official Secrets (2019) and Black Doves (2024). Her natural charm and inquisitive demeanor make her a fitting choice for these roles, but The Woman in Cabin 10 feels like a misstep—a disposable entry in an otherwise promising shift. Here, she plays Laura “Lo” Blacklock, a Guardian journalist haunted by her last assignment, which left an informant dead and her conscience in tatters. Seeking a break, she accepts a fluff piece: covering a Norwegian heiress with terminal cancer (Lisa Loven Kongsli) and her husband (Guy Pearce) as they launch a research foundation with a lavish cruise on their private yacht. Sounds glamorous, right? But here’s where it gets controversial: the film leans heavily into the “eat the rich” trope, joining the ranks of The White Lotus, Blink Twice, and Nine Perfect Strangers. Yet, it feels like a rehash of a decade-old trend, borrowing more from the gaslit-woman-in-peril formula than offering anything fresh.
Lo’s journey into the world of the ultra-wealthy is equal parts opulent and unsettling. Her attempts to fit in—like dressing up for dinner—only highlight her outsider status. Things take a dark turn when she encounters a mysterious woman in cabin 10 and witnesses what appears to be foul play: raised voices, blood on the glass, and a splash that signals a body overboard. But here’s the twist: the yacht’s elite guests, including characters played by Hannah Waddingham, David Morrissey, and Kaya Scodelario, insist there was no woman in cabin 10. They suggest Lo’s trauma is clouding her judgment—a gaslighting tactic that feels all too familiar. Her only potential ally? Her ex, Ben (David Ajala), a photographer with whom she shares a complicated history.
The film tries to tackle weighty themes: the threat of capitalism to journalism, the disbelief of women, and even the role of AI. But here’s the kicker: these themes feel like window dressing, mere excuses to showcase lavish interiors, designer clothes, and attractive people. The real focus? Cheap thrills and a plot twist you’ll likely see coming if you’re paying attention. Speaking of which, the dialogue is clunky at times, with lines like Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s character asking, “Are we talking about stealing NGO funds from starving children now or your chequered romantic history?” feeling out of place and underutilizing her talent.
In the end, The Woman in Cabin 10 is a film best enjoyed in the background—a series of out-of-focus events unfolding while you scroll through Instagram. It’s not a bad way to spend an hour and a half, but don’t expect it to linger in your mind afterward. Controversial question: Is this the future of thrillers—style over substance, designed for distracted viewers? Or is there still room for depth in an age of endless scrolling? Let’s discuss in the comments.
