Film Reviews

Sweetheart (2019) Review: A Lean, Mean Island Monster

Sweetheart (2019) gets a lot of mileage out of a simple fear: the ocean is scary as hell. J. D. Dillard’s film begins as a stripped-down survival thriller, following Jenn (Kiersey Clemons) after she washes ashore on a seemingly empty island. It quickly turns into a monster film, and the two genres fit perfectly well together.

Rent, buy, or stream Sweetheart on Amazon.

At first, Jenn’s problems are pretty normal, given the circumstances. She needs potable water, food, shelter, fire, and some way to escape. Clemons has to carry long stretches with almost zero dialogue, and she makes Jenn feel resourceful yet realistic. She is frightened, exhausted, and frequently unsure what she has seen, but she keeps moving because standing still is not really an option.

Jenn lies in shallow water on the island beach after the shipwreck in Sweetheart (2019).
Sweetheart (2019)

That basic survival material is already effective. The island is beautiful in the way deserted places often are in horror films: bright, quiet, and a bit too peaceful. Dillard knows that an empty beach can be more unnerving than a dark hallway. There is nowhere for Jenn to go, nowhere to hide for long, and no reason to believe that help is coming.

The water is the film’s real setting. It sits around the island like an unknowable boundary, and Sweetheart understands that the fear of deep water is not simply about drowning. It’s about the possibility that something can be close to you without ever being visible. Jenn can see the surface, the shoreline, and the sky. She can’t see what moves underneath them.

That fear gives the creature an unusual amount of force. It is fast, powerful, and violent. When it attacks, it does not drift through the frame like a ghost. It tears through the film with an aggression that makes every trip to the water dangerous. I felt myself tense up every time, even when Jenn would go into the water in the “safety” of daylight.

An overhead view of the green tropical island and pale shoreline in Sweetheart (2019).
Sweetheart (2019)

The creature in Sweetheart doesn’t need an elaborate mythology or origin story. It needs to be frightening enough that Jenn’s precautions feel necessary, and the film gets that balance just right.

The early sections are easily the strongest. Watching one woman slowly realize that the island is not empty gives the film a clean, primal tension. Every object becomes useful or threatening. A fire provides warmth, a signal, or a brief sense of protection. A dead body is evidence that something is very wrong, but evidence isn’t much help when nobody else is there to see it.

That last idea gives Sweetheart more philosophical weight. Jenn knows what’s happening (sort of). The problem is that knowledge doesn’t automatically become believable simply because it is true. Once other survivors arrive, the film turns into a story about testimony: what happens when someone has seen something terrifying, has no convincing proof, and must rely on people who are already inclined to doubt her?

There is a potentially sharp horror idea in that situation. Jenn’s fear is treated as irrational because it’s inconvenient for everyone else to accept. Believing her would require the others to change their plans, admit that they are vulnerable, and confront a danger they cannot control. It is easier to decide that she is overreacting.

The sea creature rises as a dark silhouette in the ocean against the red glow of a flare in Sweetheart (2019)
Sweetheart (2019)

Unfortunately, the two additional survivors are where Sweetheart becomes noticeably thinner. I’m unsure if the actors weren’t quite up to the task, or if the script simply didn’t give them enough to work with; I’m inclined to believe the latter. Their refusal to believe Jenn makes sense as a genre obstacle, but they barely function as people beyond that. The screenplay gives them just enough background to explain why they distrust her, then mostly uses them as barriers between Jenn and the obvious need to escape.

I kept wishing the film had stayed with Jenn alone a little longer. The isolation is not merely a setup before the larger group dynamics begin; it is the source of the film’s identity. Clemons is strong enough to sustain it, and the loneliness makes every sound, movement, and glimpse of the creature more frightening. The later characters don’t ruin the film, but they make it feel more conventional precisely when it had been doing something different.

That’s also why I prefer Sweetheart to Never Let Go, which gets trapped between competing explanations for its threat. Sweetheart does not waste much time pretending that its danger might be entirely psychological. Jenn may struggle to convince other people, but the audience knows what’s going on. The question is not whether she is imagining something. It’s whether anyone will listen before the monster disposes of them.

Jenn stands in profile on the beach wearing a red life vest as sunlight reflects across the ocean in Sweetheart (2019).
Sweetheart (2019)

Clemons keeps that tension grounded. Her performance is not showy, but it has the physical commitment a survival film needs. Jenn is constantly calculating distances, checking the shoreline, gathering supplies, and trying to stay calm. The film gives her a few moments of release, but it never lets us forget how alone she is.

Like Talk to Me, Sweetheart understands that a strong central performance can make a relatively simple horror premise feel much larger. Both films work because their protagonists remain emotionally believable even when the circumstances around them become extreme. Jenn does not need a long tragic backstory to earn our investment. Clemons does the work.

I also have to admit that I enjoy how little the title has to do with the film. Sweetheart sounds like a romantic drama. It tells you almost nothing about a woman stranded on an island with a violent sea monster. The title preserves the film’s modest sense of discovery rather than advertising every genre element in advance.

Sweetheart is not a perfect monster film. Its supporting characters are underwritten, and the middle section becomes less compelling whenever the story temporarily abandons Jenn’s solitary fight for survival. But the creature is great, Clemons is better, and Dillard creates real terror out of open water, darkness, and the feeling that something impossibly strong is approaching from just beyond the shore.

Sweetheart (2019) Film Rating: ★★★★ out of 5

If you’d like to watch Sweetheart (2019), it’s currently available to stream, rent, or purchase via Amazon.


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Matthew Jones

Matthew Jones is a film critic, writer, and independent filmmaker with a BA in Film Studies from the University of Georgia. He founded Philosophy in Film to examine the ideas, ideologies, and moral questions embedded in cinema, with a particular interest in horror, cult, arthouse, and independent film. His entertainment writing has also appeared in Film Matters Magazine and Screen Rant.

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