Directed by: Stroma Cairns
Written by: Stroma Cairns and Imogen West
Run Time: 1 hour 42 mins
Not many directors can claim a BAFTA win before even releasing their first film, but London-based Stroma Cairns achieved just that with her work on the mini-series Mood (2022). Having directed several episodes of the acclaimed show and built an impressive portfolio of short films, Cairns arrives at her feature debut, The Son and the Sea, with both recognition and ample experience.
Set against the striking backdrop of Scotland’s northern coast, the film follows Jonah (Jonah West), a young man caught up in the relentless London party scene. Realising that he needs to break free from this cycle of self-destruction, he persuades his friend Lee (Stanley Brock) to accompany him on a trip to Fraserburgh to visit his great-aunt who has recently moved into a care home following a decline in health.
Much like Jonah’s life when we first meet him, The Son and the Sea feels a little aimless, at least to begin with. Cairns’ film is light on context, instead giving audiences a snapshot of Jonah’s unfulfilled existence in London. Consumed by drugs, alcohol and partying his life has little to no direction. His decision to travel to Scotland then, at least suggests a desire for change – but, as Lee points out while their train departs – it’s more likely they’re simply running away from their problems, rather than facing them.
As the pair travel north and start to settle into their new Scottish surroundings their personalities gradually start to emerge, and the film becomes more engaging. Jonah is guarded, preferring to keep himself to himself, while Lee is far more open, naturally making connections with those around him. It’s this warm nature that draws in a number of locals including Charlie (Connor Tompkins) and Sandy (Grant Lindsay). And whether it’s playing pool in the pub or spotting whales by the beach the group share an unlikely, but rather wholesome chemistry.
Admittedly, The Son and the Sea doesn’t offer much in the way of plot, but Cairns’ slower-paced screenplay – co-written with Imogen West – does suit the sleepy seaside setting. The narrative eventually splits between two threads; the central focus remains on Jonah and his efforts to rediscover himself, while a secondary storyline explores the relationship between Charlie and his twin brother, Luke (Lewis Tompkins). There is some crossover, as Jonah’s actions have a direct impact on the brothers’ dynamic, but the two threads aren’t woven together tightly enough to impact each other to any great effect. Instead, this more disjointed writing leaves the brothers feeling like more of an afterthought.
Thankfully, Jonah’s story is handled with greater care, as the more his new surroundings pull him away from his chaotic London life, the more he’s able to reconnect with himself. He does this through a serious of quiet, unassuming, but genuinely lovely moments. It’s the simplicity of him listening to live music in the pub, talking to a local farmer about his family or delivering a hopeful prayer in a hospital corridor, that allows audiences a glimpse into the real Jonah. These moments force him to look inwards too, and newcomer Jonah West does this with a subtle nuance that will endear audiences to his character and see them willing for the spiritual breakthrough that he feels so delicately on the cusp of.
This isn’t an exception either, as The Son and the Sea boasts a strong cast across the board. Despite his underdeveloped subplot, Connor Tompkins emerges as the real standout. Charlie has an undeniable charm to him, and it’s commendable how the film presents him – both he and Tompkins are Deaf – in a realistic and authentic manner. As Sandy, Grant Lindsay shows much promise too, enhancing the film’s naturalistic quality even further. While Stanley Brock offers a genuine rapport with West, capturing the tentative connection between two young men still trying to figure out exactly who they want to be.
The Son and the Sea has some figuring out of its own to do too, but as Jonah in particular begins to articulate his emotions more openly, Cairns’ thoughtful tale of male mental health welcomes a modest wave of emotion. Its effect perhaps won’t be particularly lasting on grander cinematic shorelines, but its simplicity and sincerity capably carry it just where it needs to go.
Star Rating: ★ ★ ★
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