When Heweliusz appeared on Netflix in early November 2025, it immediately captured attention — not only in Poland, where the story originates, but also across Europe, especially in Germany and Scandinavia. Directed by Jan Holoubek and written by Kasper Bajon, the five-episode miniseries revisits the catastrophic sinking of the ferry MS Jan Heweliusz in January 1993, when fifty-five people lost their lives in one of the worst maritime disasters in modern Polish history. What do you need to consider about Hewliusz.
What makes Heweliusz remarkable is not only its scale — with huge storm sets, over 120 actors and thousands of extras — but its tone. It is less a typical disaster series and more an elegy about systems, silence, and survival. Rather than focusing solely on spectacle, Holoubek and his team chose empathy and precision. Every frame feels weighted with salt, wind, and memory.
The real Jan Heweliusz sailed from the Polish port of Świnoujście toward Ystad, Sweden, despite hurricane warnings. Hours later, it capsized in the Baltic Sea. Only nine passengers survived. For decades, the case remained controversial: mechanical faults, overloaded cargo, and questionable decisions were all cited, yet official explanations never fully satisfied the public.
In Heweliusz, the disaster becomes both a literal and moral storm. The opening episode recreates the sinking with extraordinary realism — but the heart of the series lies in what follows: the investigations, the families waiting for answers, and a society struggling to understand its own institutions.
“It’s not only about the sea,” Holoubek said during the series’ promotion. “It’s about what happens when truth starts to drown.”
Visually, Heweliusz looks stunning. Shot in Poland and Belgium, it uses real ship interiors, practical effects, and restrained digital work to portray the chaos of a vessel breaking apart. Cinematographer Piotr Sobociński Jr. opts for a muted, gray-blue palette that mirrors both the cold of the Baltic and the emotional numbness of grief.
But what audiences and critics have praised most is the emotional restraint. The acting — particularly by Magdalena Różczka as a journalist uncovering inconsistencies, and Michał Żurawski as a survivor plagued by guilt — avoids melodrama. Their performances ground the show in quiet human despair rather than heroics.
As Rzeczpospolita noted, “It’s a series about people facing the machinery of the 1990s — the transition from silence to democracy — and discovering that institutions change more slowly than conscience.”
Critics across Polish outlets applauded the production’s technical achievement and emotional depth. Onet Kultura described it as “a show that makes you stop breathing,” while Filmweb called it “one of the most ambitious Polish dramas ever produced.”
Some reviewers, however, pointed out the constraints of the five-episode format, arguing that such complex material might have benefited from more time. Yet even they acknowledged Holoubek’s courage in refusing to offer simple answers.
Internationally, Heweliusz drew attention in Germany, where maritime themes and historical proximity resonated strongly. The series quickly entered Netflix’s Top 5 most-watched titles in the country, an unusual success for a Polish-language production. German and Scandinavian outlets praised its authenticity and called it “a haunting story about collective responsibility.”
Joel Keller of Decider summarized it best: “The storm looks hellish, but the greater tempest lies in the institutions that failed to protect their people.”
Beyond its cinematic appeal, Heweliusz carries emotional and historical weight. It reopens questions that Poland has never fully resolved — about negligence, accountability, and how nations remember tragedy. By dramatizing the disaster through multiple perspectives — survivors, journalists, officials, and families — the show becomes a meditation on truth and memory.
For Polish audiences, it stirs painful recollections; for international viewers, it offers a universal story about trust and loss. Holoubek’s previous Netflix success, The Great Water, proved that Polish stories can travel globally without losing their identity. Heweliusz continues that trend — intimate, poetic, and unsparing.
In its closing moments, a character stares at the calm sea and whispers: “It looks peaceful, but it never forgets.” That line encapsulates the spirit of the entire series — a reminder that even decades later, some waters remain restless.
Heweliusz is not easy to watch, but it is impossible to ignore. It shows that national history, when told with honesty and empathy, can resonate far beyond its borders. The series is both a memorial and a warning — that truth, like the sea itself, will always return to the surface.
