The Abyss (1989)
Despite never experiencing the ocean growing up, Cameron became fascinated with marine science after ravenously watching TV documentaries by Jacques Cousteau, getting dive certified at the age of seventeen. He attended weekly lectures at a university science seminar series, one being about deep-sea diving and decompression considerations. The speech included a filmed experiment involving a commercial diver attempting to breathe an oxygenated saline solution. If successful, the test could mean that humans one day might dive into deep-sea environments.
The lecture inspired Cameron to write a short story called “The Abyss,” featuring scientists living in a submersible underwater facility near the Cayman Trench. They used the saline solution to make deep dives into the trench, but, feeling oneness with the ocean, never return. Rescue divers felt the same euphoria, also never coming back. The story ended with one last diver going into the darkness of the abyss to experience the pulsing rapture of the deep. Cameron says it was a psychological piece about a return to the womb, breathing life-sustaining liquid, and being reborn.
Cameron didn’t intend to make The Abyss after Aliens, wanting a break from effects-heavy films. But what to do? Cameron’s wife and also his story editor and producer, Gale Anne Hurd, suggested his story on divers near the abyss. They pitched the idea while lunching with execs from 20th Century Fox, who enthusiastically encouraged them to develop a script and budget proposal ASAP. Cameron drew up a 62-page, single-spaced treatment, changing much of his original story. As scientists were less relatable, the protagonists turned to working-class heroes put into extraordinary circumstances, something that worked well for Cameron in his previous films.
Cameron had a research assistant procure books by Jacques Cousteau on ocean technology and exploration, especially the current state of the industry. Cameron found influence from Cousteau’s expression of humanity living in a harmonic existence with all living creatures we encounter.
Cameron saw his story as a metaphor for diving. At first, it’s a horrible and challenging experience. If you push yourself through the urge to panic, you get used to it. Eventually, you experience a sense of flight- a spiritual awakening, seeing the wonder and beauty for life in the universe you never knew existed.
The Alan Silvestri score evokes an angelic chorus and heraldic horns. Cameron envisioned the crew finding God and his angels at the depths of the ocean. Not literal angels but, in the Special Edition, aliens possessing power over humanity to flood the Earth, Genesis-style. When Bud ‘sees the light’ at the end of his life,’ the metaphor for death, the afterlife, and the heavens are evident. Cameron brought in another of his obsessions, UFO sightings, feeling that aliens could easily hide in the unexplored depths of the ocean.
Hurd and Cameron met a decade prior while working for Roger Corman. They married in 1985 and were also partners in filmmaking. He wrote and directed while she produced and edited the script. Their marriage strained during the pre-production of The Abyss. By the time of post-production, they were divorcing but continued as professional partners. As the screenplay existed before their marital issues, Cameron and Hurd insisted that their relationship dynamic comparisons to their main characters – two professionals who joined careers stifled their romance – are coincidental. That coincidence hit so close to home it nearly kept him from doing the film. Unlike Bud and Lindsay, no reconciliation took place; Cameron married director Kathryn Bigelow eight days after the film’s release.
Set five years on the future, Virgil ‘Bud’ Brigman is the lead foreman of Deepcore, an underwater oil drilling rig 2,000-feet deep. Deepcore receives word of a downed US Navy nuclear submarine in the area near the Cayman Trough. As Russian subs are close by, foul play is suspected. The crew must escort Bud’s soon-to-be ex-wife Lindsay, the project engineer for Deepcore, and a crew of Navy SEALs for a rescue mission. A hurricane cuts communication outside, effectively leaving Navy SEAL Lieutenant Coffey in command. Psychosis from pressurization makes Coffey unstable and paranoid, viewing the various neon-colored NTIs (Non-Terrestrial Intelligence) in a nearby abyss as enemy Russian vessels that must be destroyed.
Cameron’s first directorial effort, Piranha II, taught him that prolonged filming in the ocean was impossible. They needed to eliminate the variables: currents, temperatures, weather, visibility, lighting, and sea life. They also needed better underwater communication, photography, and freedom of movement, preferably using submersibles. They looked for tanks to accommodate their underwater sets. The largest tanks contained corrosive saltwater without filtration or heat. They would need to search for other vessels large enough to retrofit it to their needs.
A Cameron associate mentioned an abandoned facility in Gaffney, South Carolina, the Cherokee Nuclear Power Station, bought by the film entrepreneur Earl Owensby. The existing turbine pit proved too small for their needs. However, Cameron suggested they could make the world’s largest underwater studio by converting the reactor containment building Owensby intended as a 2,000-seat amphitheater. They could build their set and flood it, rather than build underwater. They entered into a verbal agreement to use the facilities for $2.25 million.
Deepcore, the largest underwater set ever built, resides in ‘A tank,’ a massive pool within the reactor containment building, filled with 7.5 million gallons of heated and filtered water, with three air-tight compartments for filming, and an underwater air-tank filling station. The tank took five days to fill using water from a nearby lake, with a 215-foot circular tarp and millions of black polystyrene beads blocking light out. ‘B tank’ is another pool with 2.5 million gallons of water with turbines that simulate wind, rain, and waves they could use for miniatures and other quick work.
Cameron told auditioning actors that they might die making The Abyss, screening them for claustrophobia and aquaphobia. Actors spent their first week on a boat off Grand Cayman getting scuba certified before coming back to South Carolina for helmet diving training. Fox wanted a popular lead actor, but Cameron said no big stars who wanted special treatment. Ed Harris signed on after the Cayman trip, initially skeptical about the role until Cameron showed him the humanistic elements in the script. After meeting Mastrantonio, he had doubts because she seemed delicately feminine, unlike Lindsay, but she nailed the reading convincingly.
Biehn appears in his third film for Cameron, this time as the heavy. Biehn asked if there could be more explanation for Coffey’s instability. They brainstormed high-pressure nervous syndrome, a real-life phenomenon that experts say is like an acid trip, afflicting Coffey after decompression. During a writer’s strike, Chris Elliott auditioned for “Hippy,” but Cameron preferred Todd Graff. Cameron liked Elliott enough to create another role for him. Cameron wrote the part of Commodore DeMarco for Lance Henriksen, but he was unavailable.
Midway into the shoot, Owensby sent them a bill for $300,000 and tried to evict them for physical damage and misuse of equipment. A judge issued a restraining order against Owensby until the film finished. Owensby later sued for over $2 million for leaving the reactor untidy and needing repairs. They settled out of court.
Cameron upset the locals in a “Rolling Stone” interview calling Gaffney a cultural wasteland and that it would have been more interesting to film in Tibet. Mastrantonio called Gaffney ‘expendable’ given the government allowed a nuclear reactor nearby. Cameron later added that if there were a meltdown there, few would shed a tear. The mayor responded that while they appreciated their business, they left behind a “wasteland” of pollution and repairs.
Cameron wanted ‘real for real,’ stressing authenticity whenever possible. Props weren’t just cosmetic; lives depended on their functionality. When a compartment gets flooded, the genuinely frightened actors knew a mishap might cause them to drown. They called it survival acting, perpetually under siege, responding with authentic apprehension. Cameron wanted actors to do real acting underwater. Ten prototype diving helmets with large, illuminated faceplates that defog, with built-in regulators and microphones that allowed underwater communication (Cameron could speak to them, but they couldn’t respond) and live-recorded dialogue.
Underwater scenes came first, while everyone was fresh and enthusiastic. Cameron estimates the enthusiasm evaporated three hours into the shoot. The cast and crew developed headaches from the pressure, ear infections from the water, and eye irritation and hair falling out from the chlorine. The filtration and heating pipes ruptured from the pressure. The tarp took damage during a thunderstorm and split completely, so they had to work nights. As the weather turned cold, they sat in hot tubs during pre-dive briefings and for lunch. In the freezing water, they looked forward to “diver’s delight,” the warm afterglow washing over them when urinating in their wetsuits.
As changing conditions persistently rearranged the scenes they’d shoot, no one could leave. Prolonged technical challenges often caused bored actors to idle, sometimes without performing all day. Mastrantonio meditated to maintain her sanity. Kimberly Scott knitted five sweaters. The crew observed Cameron’s tunnel vision blinded him from recognizing others’ concerns. The actors claimed he cared more about his technical toys than human beings. Cameron offered little sympathy, stating that, while they’re sitting around, the technical crew is busting their butts to make things happen.
Extended dives below 30 feet necessitated decompression before surfacing. Sometimes Cameron ran out of oxygen, requiring a hose dropped down to feed air into his suit. During decompression, he hung upside down ten feet below the surface to reduce the 28-pound helmet’s weight, watching dailies on an inverted monitor. Everyone grew irritable – slamming doors, kicking cars, and profanity-laced ranting was prevalent. As they were always indoors, they called the studio their minimum-security prison: ‘Gulag Gaffney.’
Five separate rats filmed scenes breathing the fluorocarbon emulsion; all survived (Cameron even kept one as a pet). British censors cut the scene because the Royal Veterinarian felt it abused the rats. Although rats could breathe fluorocarbon, it wasn’t for human use, so Ed Harris held his breath in colored water, pretending to breathe. Harris wore special contact lenses to focus underwater. Underwater, he opened a pink-tinted faceplate to receive oxygen. Harris considers the days being dragged sideways (to simulate his falling dive), holding his breath with water in his helmet the worst of his experience. After several hours, Harris’s irritated eyes swelled shut like a beaten boxer.
One time, Harris’s safety diver got hung up and wasn’t there to provide oxygen. Another safety diver arrived but inserted the regulator upside down, filling Harris’s lungs with water, causing a few seconds of mortifying panic. Thinking he nearly died, Harris went ballistic. Shaken and weeping on the drive to the hotel, he couldn’t even take a shower, repulsed by the thought of water.
A reporter from Premiere magazine arrived on the set for a piece on The Abyss. Cast and crew had signed NDAs not to reveal details about the alien subplot. Harris didn’t like the reporter’s attitude, refusing to talk altogether, sparking speculation of a troubled shoot. Cameron claimed the piece was full of inaccuracies and fabrications tainting future coverage of the film.
Harris made a surprise appearance at the Fox junket. He was proud of his accomplishments despite the grueling experience. Todd Graff described this reversal of feeling to the Iran hostages who developed a fondness for their captors. Cameron seemed tyrannical on the set, but they felt respect and love after he pushed everyone to the limit, including himself, to make it happen.
Cameron also nearly died when the first assistant director neglected to inform him he was running out of oxygen. After calling for help, he discarded his heavy equipment to make a push for the surface when a safety diver fed him a backup regulator that was faulty, causing him to suck in water. The safety diver didn’t know and kept insisting; Cameron punched him in the face and raced topside. Cameron fired the safety diver and first AD for the incident.
Mastrantonio’s worst moment came during a scene in which she is resuscitated after drowning. She spent hours on the ground cold and wet, while Ed Harris pounded on her, simulating resuscitative techniques. During one emotionally anguished sequence regarded as their best take, the camera ran out of film, causing her to bolt the set, screaming, “We are not animals!”
Extended delays doubled its initial $30 million budget. Several effects houses worked around the clock, incurring overtime fees, to complete the effects for a summer 1989 release. Cameron sacrificed half of his salary to make up for cost overruns. The initial Memorial Day weekend release date slid to the Fourth of July weekend, then pushed to July 26 in a platformed rollout that would slowly expand to a wide release on August 9. They jettisoned the platforming to complete the effects. After Cameron asked to move the date again, Fox demanded the film be ready on August 9, or he’d be driving to 1200 theaters to verbally describe his movie four times a day to the audience.
Rumors spread of a troubled production consisting of leaking tanks, clouding erosion, and rusting equipment muddying underwater visibility. Flocculation techniques discolored the set and eroded the dive equipment. A power failure found divers lacking visibility or ability to surface safely. The actors referred to the movie as “The Abuse.” The crew wore t-shirts reading, “Life’s abyss…and then you dive.” They joked the sequel’s title would be, “Son of Abyss.”
Hurd led a publicity tour to squash rumors and increase interest. She assured the press that delays were to perfect the groundbreaking visual effects. Film writers screened a featurette hosted by Cameron and 25 minutes of workprint footage, squashing unfavorable comparisons to the horror-tinged DeepStar Six and Leviathan. It revealed tense, out-of-context moments and a brief look at the alien creatures.
Fox found The Abyss difficult to market. Much of the public didn’t know what an ‘abyss’ was. Fox requested an alternate title, but Cameron said he wouldn’t make any other movies for the studio if they changed it. To Cameron, the “abyss” wasn’t just a location but a psychological metaphor for a leap into the unknown. This Nietzchean mirror reflection warns about becoming a monster when you fight a monster. After the film’s release, they polled audiences who paid to see The Abyss, revealing most couldn’t accurately define the title or guess the genre of the movie.
Cameron’s workprint was nearly three hours. Fox feared this was too long for modern audiences, encouraging a two-hour cut. After a Dallas test screening drew mixed reactions, Cameron consented to winnow down some character touches, Cold War posturing, and the alien subplot to annihilate humanity with tidal waves. Fox wanted to keep the effects scenes and taking out the relationship reconciliation elements, but Cameron had final cut. A test screening of the new cut produced enthusiastic results, so Fox acquiesced.
Mastrantonio remarked that The Abyss is many things, but fun to make was not one of them. She recognized that the script’s central relationship aspect echoed Cameron and Hurd’s, playing Lindsay with Hurd’s confident demeanor and clipped speech patterns. Mastrantonio liked playing a smart-thinking and pragmatic female character, a rarity in an action movie. Eventually, the physicality and claustrophobia overwhelmed her; she claims she’d wanted to kill Cameron a dozen times.
The Abyss received mixed reviews and disappointed at the box office. It debuted at #2 in the US, lingering in the top 10 for two months, scoring $90 million worldwide, but its expensive production and marketing push exceeded its take. Its popularity grew on home video, especially with the release of the 1993’s Special Edition showcasing Cameron’s complete vision.
The Abyss received Oscar nominations for Art Direction, Cinematography, and Sound, and won for Best Visual Effects. Beyond pretty sounds and pictures, it works as a tense relationship drama and survival thriller, with gripping performances by its leads. The technology is impressive, but it’s the drama that drives this intriguing and suspenseful film.
The Abyss is technically brilliant, with incredible underwater photography, beautifully lit, and bright as can be. The sound work is equal to the visuals, whether within the confines of the rig or echoing out in the middle of the ocean floor, accentuated by a mesmerizing Alan Silvestri score capturing the beauty and majesty of the fantastical events contained within.
The Abyss‘s lack of prominence among science fiction films comes several unfortunate circumstances. Two other wide-release science fiction thrillers featuring deep-sea mining crews came out earlier in 1989, DeepStar Six and Leviathan, neither performing well critically or commercially. Cameron’s higher-profile blockbusters further diminish its reputation.
It’s an ambitious work, not unlike Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind, to which The Abyss shares many thematic parallels, especially the extended version. However, its anti-nuclear suggestion echoes The Day the Earth Stood Still. The alien presence is a blessing and a curse; it adds mystique and intrigue but feels underdeveloped, especially for the theatrical cut.
Except for Cameron’s rushed finale (a vague, “Maybe they did something to us,” sidesteps scientific explanation), The Abyss is an overlooked masterwork that would be the crowning achievement most directors’ filmography. The theatrical version suggests that powerful aliens save the Brigman marriage; the Special Edition indicates that their marriage saves the world. Both are silly notions, but by this point, the entertainment value of The Abyss is reached. Whether it’s about strained relationships between superpowers or merely the strained relationship between marriage partners, Cameron’s themes are clear — it’s better to love than war.
For a film elevated by the technical aspects, it’s the character beats that emerge as the most impressive, never dwarfed by the immense set design or eye-popping visuals. The characterizations show why Cameron smartly invested time and care in them, paying off dividends beautifully, and making The Abyss one of the best sci-fi films of the 1980s.
Qwipster’s rating: A+
MPAA Rated: PG-13 for brief nudity, language, and violence
Running Time: 139 min. (Special Edition: 171 min.)
Cast: Ed Harris, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Michael Biehn, Leo Burmester, Todd Graff, Kimberly Scott, J.C. Quinn, John Bedford Lloyd, George Robert Kirk, Chris Murphy, Capt. Kidd Brewer Jr., Chris Elliott
Director: James Cameron
Screenplay: James Cameron