One Too Many on Board: A Foggy Trip to Hamburg

Is this thing worth a watch?

Honestly, only if you have a thing for old German harbor atmosphere and don't mind a story that moves at the pace of a rusty anchor. If you want high-octane thrills, look elsewhere—maybe check out The Outsider instead. But if you like watching people walk through fog and talk in hushed, serious tones about missing guys, you might dig this. Just don't expect a satisfying payoff.

The whole thing kicks off in Hamburg, and the lighting department deserves a beer. Every scene feels like it's being lit by a single, flickering bulb at the end of a long pier. It's moody, sure, but sometimes I found myself squinting just to see if someone was actually talking or if they were just leaning against a wall looking distressed.

There's this moment where the prosecutor just stares at a piece of rope for a solid ten seconds. Why? It’s that kind of movie. It feels like the characters are constantly trying to decide if they should reveal the truth or just light another cigarette. Most of the time, they choose the cigarette.

The vibe check

• The dock scenes are genuinely gloomy in a way modern movies can't seem to replicate.
• The dialogue is stiff, but honestly, people in 1930s harbor offices were probably that stiff anyway.
• I swear the same wooden crate appears in the background of three different locations.
• The commissioner's coat looks like it weighs fifty pounds when wet.

It’s not as lively as Queen of the Moulin Rouge, that’s for sure. It’s got this heavy, wet, cold feeling to it that makes you want to turn the heat up in your living room. The mystery itself? It’s fine. It’s a bit of a placeholder for the actors to stand around looking suspicious. I found myself losing track of who was on whose side, but then again, does it really matter when everyone looks this grumpy?

There is this one scene where a character runs through the rain and the camera just stays on his back for way too long. It’s awkward. It’s clearly just padding to get to the runtime, but there’s something charming about how desperate the movie is to feel longer than it actually is. It reminds me of the pacing in Evelyn Prentice, where the silence does a lot of the heavy lifting.

Is it a masterpiece? No. Is it a decent way to spend a rainy afternoon when you’re feeling a bit cynical? Maybe. Just don't ask too many questions about the missing skipper, or you'll be as lost as the prosecutor is for the first forty minutes. 🚢🌧️