There’s a bleakness in Back to the Wharf that never lets the audience catch their breath. Song Hao (Zhang Yu) is a straight-A student who loses his guaranteed school admission to his friend, Li Tang (Lee Hong Chi). Enraged, Song Hao’s father (Yanhui Wang) goes to confront Li Tang’s father, but Song Hao tries to get there first. In his rush to get there first, Song Hao mistakenly goes to the wrong house and interrupts a burglary in process. An altercation leaves Song Hao fighting for his life and he stabs the burglar before fleeing. Song Hao’s father makes the same mistake and decides to finish the task so that Song Hao cannot be tried for murder. Song Hao spends the next fifteen years in a nearby city hiding from his past until his mother passes away and he is forced to return to face the consequences.

Back to the Wharf has a density problem. It’s simply trying to cover more ground than is feasibly possible or even necessary. There are too many convoluted interpersonal dynamics that stretch the film’s runtime too thin. It’s impossible to give all these stories their due, especially when Back to the Wharf meanders its way through some of the scenes, lingering in all the wrong moments with slow motion and long takes. There’s a misguided romance that the film dedicates far too much time to, and it isn’t even really wanted by one half of the relationship. It’s a baffling choice that, should the genders be reversed, would be seen as immensely problematic. That relationship, though, is tossed aside fairly quickly in favor of a melodramatic third act twist. All of the character and plot developments that need more explanation to unpack their motivations happen offscreen, which leads to a frustrating lack of purpose.

All of Back to the Wharf’s major plot points rely on a shared history between the two lead characters. There should be unbearable tension between Li Tang and Song Hao. Former friends whose lives could not be more different because of a decision that neither of them made fifteen years ago. Even the aforementioned relationship of Song Hao and Pan Xiaoshuang (Song Jia) is supposedly because Pan has been in love with him all these years. The film’s most interesting theme and plot of atonement doesn’t make a meaningful entrance until right around the one-hour mark. Even then, any hope for that is quickly snuffed out.

Despite its leisurely path, Back to the Wharf features compelling performances by all the film’s actors. It’s their efforts that compel the audience to continue. Even though there’s only a moderate interest in how these plot points will shake out, Zhang’s performance is mesmerizing. He’s simultaneously haunted, desperate, and hopeful, all conveyed through minimal dialogue and longing looks. However, that’s just not enough to keep this film afloat.

It shouldn’t be surprising that all the film’s loose ends can’t be neatly wrapped up with a bow as the movie comes to a close. Back to the Wharf wants to be a gritty look at the choices we make when we’re desperate. That’s not outside the realm of possibility, but the film mostly forgets about the catalyst murder. How much of a crime thriller can it be if the crime is never investigated? Instead of wrapping up the mysteries during the main part of the movie, a few cards before the credits give audiences important information that should have been part of the main film.

There’s an inordinate amount of possibility within Back to the Wharf. The film needs to go back to the basics and slim down the script in order to reach its full potential.

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