Row Row Row: A Slow, Quiet Journey Worth Taking (For Some)

The Endless Stroke

Okay, so "Row Row Row" is not for everyone, let's be super clear on that right upfront. If you like your movies fast and furious, with explosions and clear heroes, you'll probably hate this. 🎬 But if you’re into something quiet, something that breathes, and you don't mind a film that asks you to sit with it, then yeah, give it a shot. It's an interesting, if sometimes frustrating, little piece.

The whole thing really just follows Billy Murray, alone in a small rowboat. He’s just… rowing. For most of the film. You’d think that sounds terribly dull, and honestly, sometimes it is. But then other times, it hits you in a weird way.

There's this one shot, it must go on for a full minute, just of the oar dipping into the water. Again and again. The sound design here, it’s just fantastic, the gentle splash, the creak of the wood. You feel like you’re right there in the boat with him. That's a strong moment.

Billy Murray's face, though. It's a landscape unto itself. You see everything there – resignation, a flicker of hope, exhaustion. The camera just hangs on him, letting us watch his expressions change, often subtly. It’s not about big, dramatic gestures; it’s the tiny shifts. Like the way his eyes dart to the horizon, then back to his hands, almost a twitch.

I kept wondering where he was going. The film never tells you. Not really. Is it a journey of escape? A penance? Or just… a routine? That lack of explanation is either brilliant or super annoying, depending on your mood, I guess. I leans towards brilliant, mostly.

There's one sequence, maybe twenty minutes in, where the sun starts to set, and the light on the water is just gorgeous. Pink and orange, shimmering. And he just keeps rowing, his silhouette cutting through it all. For a moment, it feels almost peaceful. Then the light fades, and you remember he's still just out there, alone, in the dark.

The pacing is, well, it’s slow. Very slow. You could probably get up, make a cup of tea, come back, and not miss much plot-wise. But that’s kind of the point, right? It forces you to slow down too. To pay attention to the little things. The way the clouds drift. The ripples in the water. The sound of a distant bird. Or maybe it was just a strange noise in my apartment. 🤔

Honestly, some bits did drag. There are times when you just want something, *anything* to happen. A storm. Another boat. A talking fish. But it never comes. Just the relentless, quiet motion. It's a test of patience, definitely. Like, why is the camera so far back in that one wide shot for like five minutes? What was the director thinking there? It felt a bit… distant.

But then a moment will hit you, maybe a close-up on his hands, all calloused and raw, and you think, ah, okay, I get it. This is about endurance. About the sheer act of existing and persisting. Or maybe it’s just about rowing. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, you know?

Billy Murray does a fantastic job with essentially no dialogue. His performance is all physical, all internal. It's a really demanding role, just being there, being present, for such a long stretch. You really feel the weariness seep into his bones as the film goes on. He's good.

What stuck with me most wasn't any big reveal, because there isn't one. It was the feeling of isolation. That profound, almost suffocating quiet. The world just shrinks down to this one man, this one boat, and the water. It’s a very specific vibe. Not everyone's cup of tea, but for those who resonate with that kind of thing, it'll stick.

It's not a perfect movie, no. There are moments where it feels like it’s trying a bit too hard to be profound, and others where it just feels like it could have been trimmed down by ten minutes. But it’s got a certain raw honesty to it. A brave sort of quiet. And it makes you think about stillness, even when everything is moving.