“Cabin Pressure” (2003) is the cinematic equivalent of being stuck on the tarmac forever with a dying paperback and a screaming air vent. It’s not just dull; it’s aggressively, proudly dull—an unviewable mess that mistakes droning cockpit chatter and recycled stock footage for suspense. If turbulence were interesting, this movie would still find a way to taxi around it.

From the opening minutes, the film announces its priorities: beige sets, beige lighting, beige characters speaking in acronyms about systems we never see break in any satisfying way. Scenes repeat like safety demonstrations—pointless, bloodless, and performed by people who look like they’ve already mentally clocked out of the shift. The “action” is mostly cross-cutting between bored faces and a model plane that’s never given a convincing sense of scale, speed, or danger. You can practically hear the temp track begging to be replaced by something—anything—with a pulse.

The script is a wasteland of clichés and filler, the kind of movie where every problem is solved by the next line of dialogue rather than an actual set piece. No character has an arc; they have altitudes. Every attempt at ratcheting tension stalls into holding patterns: more radio chatter, more hollow commands, more reaction shots that mistake blinking for acting. Even the inevitable “hero moment” feels perfunctory, like someone looked at their watch and said, “Guess we should land this thing.”

For Stinker Madness seekers, there’s no campy payoff here—just the slow, oxygen-starved fade of a production that never gets off the ground. “So bad it’s good” requires swagger, accident, or at least a spectacular crash. “Cabin Pressure” offers none of that. It’s boredom at cruising altitude: a feature-length layover where the only emergency is keeping your eyes open.