It’s tempting to describe English novelist-turned-filmmaker Helen Walsh’s fine-grained gay love story On the Sea as another version of God’s Own Country, switching out Yorkshire farmland for coastal waters in North Wales. But that would be unfairly reductive. Like Francis Lee’s smoldering 2017 debut feature, this is a rugged, elemental drama whose slow-burn potency plays out against a landscape as bleak as it is beautiful, where taciturn men are locked into restrictive codes of masculinity set in stone generations ago. 

A palpable sense of place, of milieu and of working-class lives in which pleasure, passion and desire have been dulled courses through this atmospherically charged film like the icy seawater and rough currents of the straits. The unerring restraint of its leads never obscures the raw feelings of their sensitively drawn characters.

The middle-aged protagonist, Jack (Barry Ward), and his younger brother Dyfan (Celyn Jones) co-own a mussel farm, a hardscrabble enterprise being squeezed by larger commercial fisheries. Jack and Dyfan are the third generation of men in their family to endure the backbreaking work of hand-raking the mussel beds and crating their haul each day in bitterly cold winds. The attention to quotidian labor in harsh conditions at times calls to mind Luchino Visconti’s classic 1948 neorealist docudrama about dirt-poor Sicilian fishermen, La Terra Trema.

Friction between the brothers sits just under the surface from the start. Dyfan’s three boys pitch in with the work, unlike Jack’s surly teenage son Tom (Henry Lawfull), a repeated no-show. When Jack sends his brother’s youngest home because his hands are too frozen to be of use, Dyfan takes understated jabs at his manhood by saying he’s too soft on the lads, none more so than Tom. Dyfan later shows resentment about having kept the business afloat solo while Jack was undergoing treatment for cancer, now in remission. Theirs is not an easy fraternity.

When an incident for which Tom is indirectly responsible leads to old-timer Bernie (Danny Webb), who makes a living from his scallop dredger, having his leg amputated, Jack takes charge of the veteran fisherman’s care. He gets help — at first through his firm insistence, later voluntarily — from itinerant deckhand Daniel (Lorne MacFadyen); they chop firewood to heat Bernie’s home and take his boat out to make money to pay his bills.

The attraction between the two men at first is so veiled it’s almost undetectable, though Daniel is more obvious with his glances and the hints he drops into their terse conversations. Irish actor Ward (who played the title character in Jimmy’s Hall for Ken Loach) expertly conveys the unease of a man reading and responding to the stranger’s signals even as he feigns indifference, fearful of disrupting his life in a community suspicious of any digression from old-fashioned norms.

Paradoxically, it takes Daniel smacking Jack in the mouth after he allows the younger man to be humiliated in the pub to spur Jack into acting on his desires. The sex between them is fumbling, nervous and almost feral at first, then increasingly tender and uninhibited as they start stealing time together in Daniel’s trailer. When the connection between them intensifies, Daniel becomes unsatisfied with clandestine hookups, wanting more, while Jack’s self-denial and wariness of potential exposure are tough habits to kick. 

“This is my town,” Jack tells Daniel by way of explanation. “I live here.” But no less affecting is Daniel’s frustration when he asks of their relationship, “What is this?” The emotional inarticulacy of both men is quietly bruising.

A million conflicts play across Ward’s face, notably Jack’s longing for a more fulfilling life and the sudden reminder that, had he made more courageous choices, that might have been an option. In a scene of crushing sadness, he sees Daniel playing pool at the pub with another man, the intimacy of their body language unmistakable.

Jack’s biggest regret, however, is the hurt he stands to cause Maggie (Liz White), the wife he has genuinely loved since they were high school sweethearts. That hurt becomes an increasing inevitability once Dyfan starts making pointed comments about Jack’s younger friend helping him take care of Bernie despite hardly knowing the old man, or Jack and Daniel taking Bernie’s boat out for the day, with no evidence of any fishing being done. 

That homophobic Dyfan chooses to drop these insinuations over a dinner with his brother and their wives makes his behavior especially toxic, not to mention that his spite is driven in part by his maneuverings to buy out Jack’s share of the business.

Walsh is an assured storyteller, aided considerably by the gritty textures and searching close-ups of DP Sam Goldie’s camera, which shapes an alternate landscape from Jack’s lined, stubbly face, his calloused hands, bulky wool sweaters and water-slicked rubber waders. The cloudy skies cast much of the film in shadow, the chief exception being a rare patch of sunlight seen from underwater during a swim off Bernie’s boat. Or is it a memory of a much earlier time on holiday with Maggie, when she first had an inkling of her husband’s secret?

Unfolding to the regionally inflected sounds of Felix Rösch’s delicate score, On the Sea takes some unsurprising turns, sketched out in foreshadowing, but also less expected developments, particularly once Maggie gets past her anger and her rock-solid strength of character kicks in. Tom, too, after keeping a hostile distance from his father, makes a late display of loyalty that silences his uncle. And a scene in which Tom’s girlfriend (Leisa Gwenllian) exchanges friendly words with Jack at his most isolated is lovely.

Walsh is too subtle in her writing to concoct a happy ending in which everything falls into place. But there’s comfort and even a kind of peaceful deliverance in the stirring closing images of a film that stays with you.

Vague Visages’ SHARP: Moving Picture II review contains minor spoilers. This article covers the films Obsidian, Over Herd and Burn. Check out the VV home page for more film criticism, movie reviews and film essays.

In the city of Austin, keeping it “weird” is the name of the game. The coroner’s report on the counterculture’s demise is indeed fake news based on my recent screening of SHARP: Moving Picture II, a showcase of 20 experimental shorts, video art and non-narrative works from up-and-coming artists/filmmakers via the Hyperreal Film Club. This cavalcade of ambitious eccentricities and diasporic dreamers isn’t after your validation, nor should it be considered “main character energy.” Superficiality takes a back seat as the artists, in most cases, communicate their beliefs with mere glimpses and “flickers.”

Joseph Gonzalez of The Austin Chronicle nails the SHARP: Moving Picture II vibe, characterizing the filmmakers as having “something different to say about jagged edges of experience.” Nowhere is this truer than in the work of Jay aka j4_qv and his meditative one-shot Obsidian (2026). In under five minutes, the filmmaker allows viewers to ruminate on their own sharp edges and half-dreamt truths. To amplify this spiritual energy, Jay uses three massive indigenous monoliths, whose aura evokes not an inhospitable presence but rather a beguiling prologue for additional works to come. If one finds a fault in the work, it’s the diehard, fanboy nature of it all. Key shots throughout evoke “The Final Messenger” episode of Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995-96), while the music and backdrop resemble Toluca Lake of the Silent Hill video game franchise. All are admirable choices, and yes, the sound mixing rocks. Yet the cost of Jay’s approach is the lack of a distinct vantage point. Nevertheless, the artist’s thought-provoking and druid imagery hints at a breakout that’s to come.

SHARP: Moving Picture II Review: Related — Short Film Review: Marcellus Cox’s ‘Jamarcus Rose & Da 5 Bullet Holes’

The midsection is where several films’ themes, though vivid and suggestive, begin to lose focus and become repetitive. Several vignettes appear under variations of SHARP, such as Sharps or Shaaarrrrp, which weakens the sense of uniqueness. The inclusion of miscellaneous cartoon cat videos is perhaps an effort to bolster the broader theme of transition. One notable short, Burn, near the end of this section, follows a man who is not yet ready to confront or reveal his identity. In the course of roughly 10 minutes, Burn immerses viewers into his internal struggle, approaching the subject in a distinctly Kafkaesque way. The camera remains in a fixed point-of-view position, while various objects of torture — kitchen torches, rough plastics and cigarette butts — are used to evoke the sense of an itch that just can’t be scratched. Parallel shots of a silhouette and an array of women interrupt these tortuous images. There’s a lack of emotional connection to the subject and zero continuity with the events that transpire, rendering the whole episode a booming cry for help that’s stifled by the lack of internal or external dialogue. Viewers simply receive a brief glimpse of the protagonist’s inner torment.

SHARP: Moving Picture II Review: Related — Review: 2026 Oscar Nominees for Animated Short Film

The film presentation ended in a typical Generation Z-type scenario, not with an emo millennial scoff but with a stare. Henna Chou’s smart stroke Over Herd (2026) circumnavigates the typical deer-in-headlights, coming-of-age lecture, but rather than spoofing these situations, the director allows their featured friend to remain anonymous, by way of a bison serving as the avatar. The whole conversation of their complex and queer-coded relationship/friendship with their boss evolves as a mash-up of MTV’s Girl Code (2013-2018) and Cartoon Network’s Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! (2007-10). The deal seals itself largely because of the deliberate distortion of the vocal audio track. One can never be quite sure whether the audio comes from the bison or a non-diegetic source.

SHARP: Moving Picture II Review: Related — Borscht Belt Film Fest Review (Short): Joel Perez’s ‘Villa Encanto’

In the May 2026 issue of Time, Christopher Nolan suggests that all directors remain anonymous. Art should speak for itself and personalities should not overshadow the message. Given the lucrative yet superficial nature of Hollywood, such a statement may be wishful thinking. SHARP, however, may just hit the mark. The combination of teasing glimpses and the absence of titles and/or character names conveys the notion that “This is who I am — deal with it.” This isn’t to say that the feature creators are off the grid. The names of the artists/filmmakers can be found on the Hyperreal website, but the art trumps the personalities. In the spirit of philosopher John Locke, these individuals are not uniquely defined by their physical bodies but rather by their own conscious awareness and experiences. They should not need to round off any edges to suit others.

Peter Bell (@PeterGBell25) is a 2016 Master of Arts – Film Studies graduate of Columbia University School of Arts in New York City. His interests include film history, film theory and film criticism. Ever since watching TCM as a child, Peter has had a passion for film, always trying to add greater context to film for others. His favorite films include Chinatown, Blade Runner, Lawrence of Arabia, A Shot in the Dark and Inception. Peter believes movie theaters are still the optimal forum for film viewing, discussion and discovering fresh perspectives on culture.

SHARP: Moving Picture II Review: Related — Review: 2026 Oscar Nominees for Live-Action Short Film

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Gene Shalit, the popular film critic who spent decades with TODAY, has died. He was 100 years old.

In a statement to NBC News, Shalit’s family said he “passed away peacefully today after 100 years of an amazing life.”

Born March 25, 1926, Shalit was an instantly recognizable personality. Along with his distinctive handlebar mustache, poofy hair, eyeglasses and bow ties, he is best remembered for his love of puns while doing reviews on the show’s “Critic’s Corner” segment.

A graduate of the University of Illinois, Shalit became a part-time TODAY personality in 1970 and was elevated to a full-time role in 1973, replacing Joe Garagiola. He remained with the show until he retired in 2010. “It’s enough already,” he said in a statement announcing his retirement.

In addition to his reviews, Shalit interviewed scores of celebrities during his TODAY tenure. His 1979 sit-down with Carol Channing is best remembered for the actor telling a story about having trouble understanding the British accent that left him in tears from laughing so hard.

“What’s the matter with him?” a smiling Channing said as Shalit tried to gather himself.

His movie reviews were often punctuated by his use of puns, which became his calling card.

Shalit made regular appearances on classic game shows “What’s My Line?” and “To Tell the Truth” and wrote for a wide range of newspapers and magazines, including The New York Times, Cosmopolitan, Glamour and TV Guide. He also wrote and broadcast a daily piece called “Man About Anything” on NBC’s radio network for over a decade.

In addition, he authored the 1987 anthology “Laughing Matters: A Celebration of American Humor.” He also compiled the book “Great Hollywood Wit” in 2002.

“Shalit has performed with the Boston Symphony Orchestra in Boston’s Symphony Hall and Tanglewood, played his bassoon on stage in Lincoln Center, and conducted the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in a full concert of classical music. In none of these venues has he ever been invited back,” read a cheeky bio of Shalit in the 2007 book “Mazel Tov: Celebrities’ Bar and Bat Mitzvah Memories.”

He also lent his voice as a character named Gene Scallop in a 2007 episode of “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

He became pop culture fodder, often being lampooned on “Family Guy” and portrayed by Horatio Sanz on “Saturday Night Live.”

Shalit had six children with late wife Nancy, one of whom, Emily, died in 2012 from ovarian cancer.