THE IMPOSSIBLE. Excellent Tom Holland in his film debut

What is disaster cinema if not an attempt to bring audiences closer to human tragedy, most often caused by a destructive force of nature? In the battle against nature’s forces, we have always stood no chance—whether it be fire, flood, tornado, or a catastrophe caused by human error. When faced with a natural disaster, survival—ours and that of our loved ones—becomes the most important thing. We are never truly alone, and films like The Towering Inferno, The Poseidon Adventure, or The Day After Tomorrow emphasize this, though that doesn’t mean it’s a value in itself. As the characters fight for their lives, the director struggles with the fine line between drama and sentimentality—a challenge that has always existed in disaster cinema. Some viewers enjoy “experiencing” miraculous rescues or the deaths of loved ones alongside the characters, judging a film by the number of tears shed. Then there’s the visual aspect—the more convincingly the hell experienced by the characters is portrayed, the better. Survivors’ accounts are one thing, but being able to witness such horror up close while remaining a safe observer—that’s something only cinema can provide. Juan Antonio Bayona’s The Impossible is an example of a fact-based story (the infamous 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and the resulting tsunami that claimed hundreds of thousands of lives), supported by excellent acting and outstanding technical execution. That alone is enough to guarantee two hours of intense emotions.

Henry and Maria are a British couple who, along with their three sons, decide to spend Christmas in a beautiful corner of Thailand. However, their paradise on Earth is soon devastated by a destructive tsunami. Maria and their eldest son, Lucas, miraculously survive, though Maria is severely injured and gradually weakens as they make their way through the flooded terrain. Lucas, convinced that the rest of the family is dead, tries to stay rational and composed. For much of the film, we see the events through the eyes of this twelve-year-old boy, who is forced to grow up almost overnight.

What happened to Henry and the two younger sons? The director makes us wait a long time for the answer, which I won’t reveal here. Although this is a film based on a true story—meaning some viewers might already know the plot (or have seen a trailer that gives almost everything away)—I believe even this type of cinema has the right to surprise. All you need to know is that at a certain point, Lucas becomes the film’s central and most active character.

From a technical standpoint, The Impossible is impressive. Bayona introduces the main characters in just a few scenes before the disaster, avoiding unnecessary delays. The impact of the wave is incredibly realistic, as is everything that follows—Maria and Lucas being carried away by the water, desperately trying to reunite. Later, the Spanish director spares no detail in showing the flooded landscape, as if he had truly traveled to the disaster site with his crew. His approach to wounded bodies is equally unflinching—the bruises on Lucas’s back, the torn flesh on Maria’s leg, and the hospital scenes may be shocking for some viewers.

Yet, even in such a realistically depicted drama, sentimentality often creeps in, underscored by an overbearing soundtrack and, as the film nears its finale, “spectacular” stylistic choices. The fact that the story is heading in a particular direction doesn’t mean the director has to fully submit to it. While the film’s beginning and character setup are handled with efficiency, Bayona unnecessarily prolongs and embellishes the resolution. He tries to build tension in the final scenes, even though he knows that the emotional impact on the audience will be strong regardless. There’s nothing like a little emotional manipulation in the name of art. The slow-motion shot of Maria emerging from the water, glowing under the sunlight, feels particularly excessive and unnecessary.

The full weight of the tragedy is conveyed through the actors, who are outstanding in The Impossible. While Naomi Watts (nominated for an Oscar for her role as Maria) and Ewan McGregor are, as always, reliable—convincing as a loving couple and in the film’s most dramatic moments—it’s the casting of Tom Holland, in his debut role as Lucas, that is Bayona’s greatest success. The role required not only physical endurance but also an awareness that his character undergoes a profound transformation in almost every scene—maturing both mentally and emotionally. The Impossible is about how a tragedy affects an entire family, but just as much about a child trying to make sense of the chaos around him.

Emotions drive disaster cinema more than any other genre. Realism is a crucial factor—it allows us to immerse ourselves in the story and feel, even slightly, what the characters experience. Of course, not every filmmaker strives for absolute authenticity—take Roland Emmerich, who delivers disasters of biblical proportions. Yet even he, sometimes with greater success (The Day After Tomorrow), sometimes with less (2012), tries to balance human tragedy, which moves the audience, with tear-jerking moments designed to sell more tissues.

In Bayona’s case, I don’t detect cynicism. Yes, in some moments, he struggles to fully control the material, which in another director’s hands could have turned into a classic tearjerker with a few spectacular scenes thrown in. However, for most of the film, the Spanish filmmaker sets sentimentality aside, documenting a mother and son’s journey through the flood-ravaged landscape and later, the chaotic hospital corridors, as if he were making a documentary. It is in these moments that The Impossible reaches true mastery.