Sully: Miracle On The Hudson fails to make much of a splash.

There’s an inherent challenge in creating films of real-life events, especially when those events unfolded in less time than it takes to microwave a ready meal. For Clint Eastwood’s Sully: Miracle on the Hudson, the task was to take four extraordinary minutes and turn them into a compelling 96-minute feature. The trick lies in the art of expansion—broadening the narrative without bloating it with unnecessary drama—and Eastwood largely pulls it off through a shrewd, non-linear storytelling approach and an unwavering focus on the hero at the heart of the tale: Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger.

Eastwood crafts the film as much around the aftermath as the event itself, using flashbacks and imagined scenarios to build tension and explore Sully’s internal turmoil. The famous water landing is presented not just as a technical achievement but as a crucible for the man himself, a pressure cooker of second-guessing and sleepless nights. By toggling between the harrowing event and the subsequent investigation, the film creates a dual narrative: one of survival, and one of vindication.

At its heart, though, Sully is powered by Tom Hanks, who delivers a performance of quiet, understated brilliance. Hanks doesn’t just portray Sully; he embodies him, bringing out the humility, professionalism, and sheer decency that made the captain a global icon. Hanks’ Sully is no swaggering Hollywood hero; he’s a man weighed down by the burden of his own legend, haunted by what could have been and forced to defend what was. Hanks’ charm and commitment smooth over some of the screenplay’s bumpier patches, landing the film safely even when it threatens to lose altitude.

The script’s decision to cast the National Transportation Safety Board as antagonists feels forced, almost as if the writers felt the need to inject conflict into a story that was, in essence, already complete. While the investigation scenes provide a platform for Hanks to demonstrate Sully’s resilience and integrity, they also veer into melodrama, reducing the NTSB’s professionals to one-dimensional bureaucratic roadblocks. It’s a clunky choice in an otherwise deftly directed film, especially when the final act reverses course so abruptly that it borders on unintentional comedy.

Despite the film’s ensemble cast, it’s clear this is Hanks’ show, with Aaron Eckhart’s loyal co-pilot Jeff Skiles standing as the only other character given significant weight. Even then, Eckhart’s defining feature becomes his moustache, a scene-stealer in its own right and while Laura Linney does her best as Sully’s wife Lorraine, her role is confined to a series of supportive yet disposable phone calls, a frustratingly underwritten part for such a talented actress.

Ultimately, Eastwood and Hanks elevate Sully: Miracle on the Hudson above the sort of docudrama you’d expect to find on the Discovery Channel. Eastwood’s steady hand behind the camera ensures the technical sequences are gripping, particularly the recreation of the flight itself, which is shot and edited with a visceral intensity that places the viewer firmly in the cockpit. The film’s brisk runtime is both a blessing and a curse: while it prevents the story from overstaying its welcome, it also means some elements—particularly Sully’s personal life—feel underexplored.

In the end, Sully soars when it keeps its focus on the man and the moment, reminding us why Captain Sullenberger’s name became synonymous with heroism. It may strain to fill its runtime, but the film’s craftsmanship and Hanks’ effortless humanity ensure it lands safely, if not spectacularly, on cinematic solid ground.