Review by Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Helen Walsh
Starring: Barry Ward, Lorne MacFayden, Henry Lawfull, Liz White, Celyn Jones, Danny Webb
As a person who is fortunate enough to have been completely comfortable with who they are from the moment they were born, my heart breaks for people who struggle to come to terms with their sexuality, their gender or any other aspect of their identity. Research suggests that 83% of "sexual minorities" worldwide conceal their sexuality from all or most people, which is horrible in itself, but there are no figures available for the people who deny who they are to their very selves: after all, how much of basic existence involves some degree of delusion, whether that's hoping for the best, imagining that somehow all of this will be worth it, or, indeed, pretending to be a heterosexual? Nonetheless, the horizon is never fully closed, and who isn't pleased for people who, after years of denial and self-loathing, one day manage to accept themselves? I often wonder what the tipping point could be, what exactly was the straw which picked the closet door... If you're middle-aged seaman (steady on) Jack, the central character of Helen Walsh's melancholic drama On the Sea, who plies his trade as a mussel harvester in a remote fishing community in North Wales, it's a meet cute with a new-in-town rugged deck hand which initially involves helping the younger man strongarm a local drunk home before later having a rifle drawn on him by the self-same loner hunk for trespassing: who says romance is dead, eh?
Walsh has a background as a novelist and in this sophomore feature, the build is slow and literary, developing character and a moody sense of place. The film's Ynys Môn setting is filmed as devastating, at once beautiful but completely unforgiving. A culture where nothing really happens, and everyone plays their part in maintaining the muted status quo, at least until wider fates intervene via Jack's family business being outdone by bigger corporations, or the uncertain state of his cancer remission... We see bored kids raring about on quads while terrorising pensioners, lachrymose fights in the local boozer: even the male on male bumming which Jack (Barry Ward) furtively witnesses at a local cottaging spot seems enacted simply because there is little else to do in the fishing town (Jack's self-recognition is cannily mirrored by his teen son's - Henry Lawfull - burgeoning sexual awakening, his parents walking in on him attempting to have it off with girlfriend Lois played by Effi o Blaenau breakout star Leisa Gwenllian).
Before Jack does end up sucking on a fisherman's friend, On the Sea makes clear the unfeasibility of his situation. After the voyeuristic cottaging, in a moment of justifiable unsubtlety Walsh crash cuts to Jack's family in church and a reading of Corinthians, with the whole neighbourhood seemingly present: this is a close knit community, steeped in tradition and blithe conformity (a subtheme, explicated through poetic shots of the men at work on the shore, is how the town itself is slowly dying due to its inability or reluctance to change). On the Sea's early drama consists of the convincingly precarious push/pull narrative of Daniel (Lorne MacFadyen) and Jack's association. The former is out, and the town folk are predictably scathing, with Jack wary of losing face for even hiring him. As ever, the suggestion is that homophobia is a translation of people's own envious insecurities: Daniel, young and good looking, has the easy courage to be himself in ways that others would not dare, especially Jack. That is, until he can't deny himself the simmering passion any longer, leading to a moment of carnal tenderness in the deck hand's caravan...
We love a coming out story, of course, but On the Sea is too genuine a drama for Jack and Daniel's relationship to be entirely positive. Where does this leave Jack's steadfast wife Maggie (Liz White), who has stood with him through thick and thin? Living alone in a room across town, Jack attempts to make contact with his son who calls him "a coward" - he's perhaps not wrong. Is there a suggestion that Jack's decision is inconveniently selfish, as much driven by a midlife crisis as the creepy straight boss attempting to put on one on younger female co-workers? Maybe, although in a counter to this thesis, Maggie admits that, deep down, she always knew, due to the way in which Jack once reacted to a man who had "lost his dog" when the couple were out walking (I presume that this is Gog cottaging code?!). Furthermore, Walsh doesn't shy away from the sex, which is filmed in flat, prolonged frames, and offsets moments such as Jack forcefully topping Daniel with extended sequences of post-coital tenderness which are so intimate you feel ashamed watching them.
Despite the halcyon presentation of the affair, in which we see the two take the boat out for a swim around sun kissed islands, in the third act, it becomes clear that that there won't be a happy ending for any of these characters, with no sailing off into the sunset (I thought that Jack's ostentatious bad back was due to his autumn years and inexperience with vigorous sex ☹). I did laugh when, in a moment of bittersweet reflection, Jack stares forlorn at the very same patch of carpet where he first had it off with Daniel... But make the most of that moment of unintentional levity, because the end of On the Sea, with its fathomless humanity and moments of acceptance and forgiveness, will absolutely destroy you.
On the Sea is in UK/ROI cinemas from July 24th.
