Markiplier’s Iron Lung Redefines Indie Horror Cinema

When YouTube megastar Markiplier—real name Mark Fischbach—announced he was taking the plunge into feature filmmaking, few could have predicted just how ambitious his debut would be. Yet with the release of Iron Lung, a claustrophobic sci-fi horror film adapted from a cult indie game, Markiplier has done more than simply join the ranks of influencer-turned-directors: he’s staked his claim as a creator capable of delivering a uniquely unsettling cinematic experience, one that has both delighted and divided audiences across the globe.

Unlike many influencer projects that fizzle out under the weight of expectation, Iron Lung is a passion project in the truest sense. According to Dexerto, Markiplier independently funded, wrote, directed, produced, and starred in the film—juggling nearly every major creative role. The movie, based on David Szymanski’s 2022 indie horror game, thrusts viewers into a dying universe where an apocalyptic event known as The Quiet Rapture has wiped out all habitable planets and stars, leaving humanity scattered and desperate. In this bleak future, Markiplier’s character—Simon, a convict hoping to earn his freedom—embarks on a terrifying solo mission to explore a remote moon covered in an ocean of blood, sealed inside a decrepit, rusting submarine called the Iron Lung.

The film’s journey to the big screen is itself a testament to the power of digital fandom. As IGN reports, Markiplier first played Iron Lung on stream in 2022, where its retro, atmospheric horror instantly resonated with his audience. This sparked a years-long effort to adapt the game, with Markiplier collaborating closely with Szymanski and mobilizing his legion of fans to petition theaters for screenings. The result: a global rollout that saw Iron Lung premiere in UK cinemas before landing in the US on January 30, 2026, and screening exclusively in Australian theaters as of January 29, 2026, according to Flicks.

So, what makes Iron Lung different from the wave of video game adaptations that have flooded cinemas in recent years? For starters, it’s a true indie effort—shot on a shoestring budget, with a small cast that includes Caroline Rose Kaplan, Seán McLoughlin, Troy Baker, and even Szymanski himself. The story is almost aggressively minimalist: Simon is locked inside the Iron Lung for nearly the entire two-hour runtime, with the camera rarely venturing beyond the cramped, blood-stained confines of the submarine. There are no sweeping space battles or elaborate CGI monsters; instead, the film leans heavily on atmosphere, suggestion, and the slow build of dread.

This approach, as IndieWire observes, is both the film’s greatest strength and its Achilles’ heel. The movie’s relentless focus on claustrophobia and isolation evokes comparisons to cult classics like Duncan Jones’ Moon, but also demands patience from viewers. The pace is slow, sometimes punishingly so, with long stretches of technical detail—neon-green readouts, binders of instructions, endless close-ups of navigation systems—grounding the story in tactile realism but occasionally draining it of cinematic momentum. As one critic put it, "Shots linger long after they’ve communicated their information, turning repetition into dead weight, and repeatedly staring at a gore-splattered GPS makes the mission feel like a maddening endless road trip."

Yet, it’s precisely this commitment to atmosphere and authenticity that has won over many fans. Markiplier’s performance as Simon is a revelation for those familiar only with his YouTube persona. Initially, some found it hard to separate the internet celebrity from the doomed protagonist, but as the film unfolds, Markiplier disappears into the role—a man at the end of his rope, haunted by guilt and terrorized by the unknown lurking in the blood-red depths. "Mark’s acting shone bright throughout the length of the movie, punctuating his terrifying journey with moments of genuine anger, fear, desperation, frustration, and madness that left me slack-jawed," wrote a reviewer for Dexerto.

Of course, not all critics were as effusive. IndieWire noted that while Markiplier’s commitment to a loyal adaptation is "absolute in spirit," his performance sometimes lacks emotional subtlety, relying on facial expressions and expletive-laced frustration. The script, too, leans heavily on exposition—internal monologues, intercom voices, and flashbacks—to communicate the lore, which some felt diluted the cosmic horror and existential dread that made the original game so memorable. Simon’s backstory, particularly his guilt over an incident at Filament Station, is gestured at rather than fully explored, leaving the protagonist more of a vessel than a fully realized character.

Still, Iron Lung stands out in a crowded field of video game adaptations that often miss the mark. Unlike studio-driven projects such as Return to Silent Hill, which have been criticized for their cynicism and lack of vision, Markiplier’s film is earnest, detail-obsessed, and refreshingly free of pandering in-jokes or self-referential winks. The movie’s most effective moments arrive when Simon’s camera flashes black-and-white images of the abyss outside, delivering jump-scares that feel genuinely viral. Composer Andrew Hulshult, known for his work on Doom Eternal and Dusk, provides a confident score that underpins the tension, even when the visuals falter.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Iron Lung is the way it has reshaped the theatrical experience itself. At early screenings packed with Markiplier fans, the atmosphere resembled a communal livestream more than a traditional moviegoing event. Viewers filmed the screen, chatted during slow stretches, and erupted in cheers at the names of Markiplier’s collaborators—behaviors that might annoy cinephiles but felt organic to a generation raised on participatory digital culture. As IndieWire points out, this subculture "undercuts escapism but proudly points to a different kind of theatrical future."

Markiplier’s decision to self-distribute the film on more than 2,500 screens, bypassing traditional marketing and relying on audience trust, is itself a bold experiment. It’s a model that may not be replicable for most filmmakers, but it signals a shift in how movies—especially those rooted in internet culture—can find their audience. In the words of one critic, "This fascinating stress test suggests that video game adaptations could thrive when entrusted to web-native creators who not only respect but understand their source material."

For all its flaws—its slow pace, its narrative ambiguity, its sometimes punishing sincerity—Iron Lung is a film that dares to be different. It’s a testament to what happens when creators take risks, when fans rally behind a vision, and when the boundaries between digital and cinematic storytelling begin to blur. Whether it’s the gallons of blood or the gallons of sweat poured into its making, Iron Lung leaves a mark that’s hard to shake.