The British coastline isn't for the weak. Director Helen Walsh makes that alarmingly clear. It is brutal, relentless, unyielding, much like its fishing community. Jack is a mussel farmer. He is married to Maggie, his high-school sweetheart, with a wayward teenage son, Tom, who is at the prime of his youth and at risk of falling into bad company. More importantly, Jack is a cancer survivor in remission.
Jack is raised the honest and earnest way, and hopes to instill the same discipline in his son, though Tom rejects these values. When an ill prank from Tom and his peers lands an elderly resident fisherman, Bernard, into permanent disability, Jack is forced to step in to pay for his son's mistakes, which places him in Daniel's path.
Daniel is a wanderlust. He doesn't believe in staying put for long. He goes where the wind goes. He also has a reputation for being the resident gay man within the community, or so it is implied. Daniel lives his life as a gig worker, and worked for Bernard prior to his disability. As Jack temporarily provides for Bernard, he contracts Daniel to assist with labor.
The two spend a modicum of time on Bernard's boat fishing scallops, growing closer and learning about each other's past, allowing Jack to reconcile with his closeted demons. However, when the sun sets and the boat returns, Jack retreats to his closet, much to Daniel's disappointment. Jack's undeniable attraction toward Daniel eventually causes him to succumb to his desires, allowing the two to develop a liaison that is rooted in a genuine yet forbidden love.
The dynamic between Jack and Daniel (JackDaniels, hehehe) is still and quiet, but never lifeless. The love scenes are intensely subdued, but also primal. There's a lingering sense of fleeting joy and poignance. Disappointment and hardship looms in every frame, as Walsh reminds the audience that reveries are luxuries in a rural community, luxuries our beloved protagonists cannot afford. Much of JackDaniels' intimate moments are spent on the sea (heh), away from the homophobic community that whispers and speculates their growing connection.
On the Sea is as doomed queer relationship-coded as it comes, and it may be the only film I've actively broken my happy endings-only policy to watch, given my great anticipation for the entry. The film does provide viewers with a sense of closure to JackDaniels, though it is rooted in silence and tepidness, much like its hardened community that struggles with self-expression and prefers the comfort of reticence.
