Le chant du marin: A salty, drifting kind of afternoon

Is it worth your time?

Look, if you need a tight, fast-paced thriller, stay away. This isn't that. But if you have a soft spot for grainy, old-fashioned sea stories where the pacing is more like a slow tide than a speedboat, you’ll probably find this weirdly comforting. It feels like finding a dusty book in a basement—some parts are falling out, but the writing has character.

If you're the type who hates movies where characters just sit around and look at the ocean for too long, just skip it. Seriously, save yourself the trouble.

The vibe

Watching this feels like someone just turned a camera on a boat and said, "try to act like you've been here for months." There's this rough-around-the-edges quality that feels very real. It doesn't have the glossy polish you'd expect from more modern stuff like A Little Princess. It’s way messier than that.

There’s a moment about thirty minutes in where the dialogue just drops off. Nobody talks. They just stare at the rigging. It goes on for an eternity—or at least it feels like it—and honestly? I kind of liked it. It felt like the movie forgot it was supposed to have a plot for a second.

Some random notes

• Fernandel shows up and he’s doing his usual thing, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on your mood.
• The way the light hits the water looks surprisingly good for a film that clearly didn't have a massive budget.
• Why does the main guy walk like he’s got pebbles in his boots the entire time? It’s distracting!
• The transition between the ship scenes and the town scenes is so abrupt it gave me whiplash.

It’s not trying to be a profound statement on the human condition. It’s just people on boats. Sometimes people are grumpy, sometimes they’re singing, and sometimes they’re just standing there. It reminded me a bit of the mood in Ewiger Strom, but way less heavy-handed.

The middle act is a bit of a slog. It’s like the editor got tired and just left in every take where someone walked across the deck. I don't mind it. It gives the whole thing a weird, hypnotic rhythm. You stop trying to track the story and just start tracking the shadows moving across the wooden planks.

I wouldn't call this a masterpiece. I’d call it a mood. If you’re feeling restless, put it on and let the noise of the waves and the old-timey chatter just float by. Just don’t expect it to explain itself to you.