The Whale (2022)

Reading the script for The Whale felt like being trapped in a room with nothing but human emotions.

The story takes place inside one apartment over a few days. It doesn't sound like a particularly exciting setup, but the emotions expressed in the story make the script feel incredibly powerful.

And that's what makesThe Whale such an interesting script to study: how its simplicity builds its power.

In this script breakdown, I identify three principles that helped writer Samuel D. Hunter achieve this.

One of the easiest ways to create a flat scene is to have characters who are just… there, hanging around without a clear purpose.

In underdeveloped scripts, it's common to introduce supporting characters whose only purpose is to help the protagonist or explain the plot. But developing supporting characters that way results in characters who lack their own, unique purpose in the story.

In The Whale, every character feels real because every character has its own emotional agenda in the story, which may or may not align with that of the main character. This clear emotional agenda, in turn, makes the dialogue feel intentional.

For example, have a look at this scene between Charlie (Brendan Fraser) and Ellie (Sadie Sink). At first, it might seem just as a father trying to reconnect with his daughter. But beneath the surface, the emotions are much messier than that. Charlie wants love and forgiveness, while Ellie wants control and to force him to confront the damage he caused. This clash of goals (their wants) creates tension without the script needing external drama.

The second thing that helped Samuel D. Hunter focus on the emotional aspects of the story is connecting every character to the core conflict. 

Every character is emotionally tied to Charlie in some way. The script has no “extra” characters who introduce additional subplots.

Because of that, the script feels tight. Every scene reveals another side of Charlie because each character has a different emotional connection to him.

To Ellie, for example, he’s a father who failed and abandoned her. To Liz (Hong Chau), his nurse/caretaker, he’s a man she both loves and resents because of his relationship with her brother and the way he treats himself. To Thomas (Ty Simpkins), a missionary, he’s a soul worth saving. To Mary (Samantha Morton), his ex-wife, he’s a painful memory that never fully healed.

A lot of movies lose momentum because they split attention between too many unrelated threads. The Whale does the opposite and keeps tightening the emotional knot.

A good reminder for writers: if a character can disappear from the story without changing its emotional core, they probably don’t belong there.

It might sound harsh, but it’s worth remembering. Kill. Your. Darlings.

And finally, the script takes advantage of its constraints/limitations.

The entire story happens in a single apartment, between a few characters, in five days. It seems simple, but it does feel intense.

The apartment becomes a space where we feel trapped with the characters' emotions. Charlie can’t really escape the people confronting him, and the audience can’t escape the emotional tension between the characters. Using a single location helps the audience focus on the characters.

This way, the audience knows that every entrance into the apartment matters, and each conversation shifts the emotional temperature in the room. The setting stays the same, but the emotional dynamics evolve scene by scene.

That’s incredibly difficult to pull off.

Many scripts rely on spectacle to maintain momentum, but The Whale shows that emotional progression can be equally gripping.

When you strip away distractions, it’s easier to start paying attention to the small things, like pauses, body language, emotional vulnerability, and what characters refuse to say.

The Whale understands something a lot of modern scripts forget: bigger is not always better. Sometimes a story becomes more powerful when it narrows its focus instead of expanding it.

Its strength comes from:

• Characters with clear goals,
• Interconnected relationships,
• And minimalist storytelling.

For me, that’s what makes the script so effective. Instead of relying on spectacle or external complexity (e.g., dynamic plot mechanics or elaborate worldbuilding), it lets the characters carry the emotional weight.