Iron Lung – Vauge game adaption lumbers and mumbles – there’s lots of blood, though! (film review)

Self-financed box-office hit Iron Lung makes for an ambitious but confused indie debut. 

Directed, edited and written by Mark Fischbach, better known as YouTuber Markiplier, Iron Lung is based on a sci-fi/horror game of the same name. We follow a convict, later named Simon, played also by our director. The stars are dead. The planets are all but gone. We are tight in a tin-can submarine, submerged in an ocean of blood on a barren moon. 

I had little notion of the source material. But the concept compelled me greatly. A blood ocean? Horror? In space? Iron Lung was, seemingly, checking all the Good Movie Boxes.

Concern started to rise, however, shortly before seeing it – when a friend noted the game’s fifty-minute runtime. 

Markiplier’s Iron Lung, comparatively, lumbers on two hours. Two very long hours. Little happens to justify the runtime. And, despite my sparse knowledge of the game, it became rather apparent that many of these scenes were double the length they had to be. Much of the movie dedicates itself to Mark’s mumbling and jumbling with the tank’s mechanics. Mechanics that, one can assume, likely have more narrative propulsion in game format. It’s a slog. Although Iron Lung’s limited setting goes for immersion, its claustrophobic affect lends itself to a rather aggravating viewing experience. 

Equally, the dialogue assumes prior knowledge on the audience’s part. It’s all very vague. Too vague. Writers have no obligation to coddle their viewers, but surely there should be something. Iron Lung’s conceptual overreach could have been tempered, in part, by some brief exposition. It remains opaque. As effective as the cold, creeping ambience is, it slows to a crawl and the chill melts away past the thirty-minute mark. Atmosphere alone does not make for an enjoyable movie, unfortunately.

Nonetheless, there is a lot of love here: Markiplier is clearly enjoying himself, and there are striking, clever shots. Some shocking practical effects, equally, puncture through the tedium. There’s gory delight to be found, still. (Seriously, Marki really enjoys his fake blood. What was the blood budget? So much blood.)

I had reservations about his performance going in. YouTubers seldom do well when breaking into other mediums. (See: Shane Dawson’s attempted movie Not Cool. Or any of the hundred million questionable paperbacks that inundated the shelves of any given 2010’s Waterstones.)

Surprisingly, Mark showed himself very little in Iron Lung. I, as well as many others one could assume, half-expected a small squared ‘let’s play!’ box lodged in the lefthand corner of the screen. His convict, Simon, is the movie’s pulse. His rage, his indignation, his grief – he arrests and rattles the viewer. If not for Markiplier’s apparent acting chops, Iron Lung would be quite unremarkable, save for the set and haunting atmosphere.

Iron Lung‘s flaws are not carelessness.  Assuming multiple roles — director, editor, actor, writer — Markiplier wants you to know he cares. And he really does, to the film’s detriment. Iron Lung, with the right editorial assistance and inference, could in fact make a very good movie. For a solo directorial debut, it shows promise, and it is encouraging that an indie release landed fourth place in the box office following its weekend debut in the UK. According to Forbes, Iron Lung has now made 11x its budget following its second weekend in theatres. Clearly, something about this is working!

Iron Lung is on general release now