Umibe no Étranger, or, The Stranger by the Beach, is third title released under FujiTV's Blue lynx banner; an anime company dedicated exclusively to the production of BL (wasei-eigo for Yaoi) feature films, tapping into the largely under-explored genre of queer male romance manga. Following hot on the heals of Given: The Movie (Yamaguchi, 2020), a sequel to the series of the same name (which I previously reviewed), Umibe no Étranger is a similarly nuanced romantic drama, proving that Blue Lynx have perhaps settled into their tonal stride.
An adaptation of part one of two of mangaka Kanna Kii's L'étranger series, Umibe no Étranger tells the story of Shun, a young gay novelist living on a small island village off the coast of Okinawa. When we first meet him, Shun is estranged from his parents and working as a general factotum for his grandmother's guest house on the island; keeping his head down and clearly suffering after the negative reaction to his coming-out. Shun soon becomes fascinated by a high-schooler he sees frequently sat alone at the coast-front, Mio, a boy living alone and grieving following the death of his single mother.
In the first rushed fifteen minutes of Umibe no Étranger, Mio and Shun begin to open up to one another, with the latter clearly attracted to the 17 year-old. Encouraged by both his grandmother and Eri and Suzu, a young lesbian couple also working at the hostel, Shun quickly embraces his new supportive bubble, and it appears as though his anxieties are beginning to dissolve. That is until Mio abruptly announces he is leaving the island to finish school on the mainland, and disappears for the next three years right as a relationship with Shun had just begun to blossom.
One of the immediate gripes to be had with Umibe no Étranger is that the passage of time is never addressed in any meaningful or even stylistic way, it kind of just happens. A comparison to how time skips can successfully be implemented can be found in the film adaptation of the BL series, Doukyuusei (Nakamura, 2016). In Doukyuusei, jumps are implied through still frames or a brief change in aspect ratio partnered with a white border, a stylistic choice which suits the incredibly muted tone of the film. Similarly, Umibe no Étranger might have benefitted from some more experimental cinematography to illustrate jumps in time more clearly to its audience.
When Mio returns to the island three years later, he is exponentially more forward, greeting Shun immediately with the proposition that he is now emotionally matured enough for a relationship, and has realised his feelings for the author. Shun is understandably sceptical, no longer willing to wear his heart on his sleeve, and while he clearly still has feelings for Mio, he keeps the other young man at arms length. Shun secludes himself in his writing while Mio grows popular amongst tourists and locals as a freeter working various part-time jobs around the island. This soon leads to the pair butting heads during a day visit to Okinawa, in which Shun suggests Mio find himself a girlfriend. Shun's inability to consider that Mio is serious in his romantic feelings is ultimately the result of his internalised homophobia, something Umibe no Étranger tackles particularly well. The exploration of this, and Shun's rooted fear of rejection, is something we see through flashbacks to Shun's own school years; in which he is depicted physically retching upon considering his own sexuality and hearing his peers ostracise him for his queerness.
Despite his struggles to make peace with his past, Shun realises Mio is serious about his feelings, and the pair share a impassioned first kiss in an Okinawa hotel room. In any other romantic drama, such a scene may have been reserved for a narrative climax; yet in the case of Étranger, this is barely marks the halfway point. The film's second act instead pays more attention to the gentle physical development of Shun and Mio's relationship, challenged by the arrival of Shun's family friend and ex-fiancé, who pressures him to return home on account of his father's ill health. Sakurako plays as a good foil to Mio's optimism; a heart-broken young woman who has struggled to come to terms with Shun's distancing from her, someone he had once always clung to in childhood. While Shun may have grown to accept his sexuality, what Sakurako recognises is that he is still not ready to confront the fractured relationship he has with his parents.
This narrative thread acts as a well-meaning outlet in which Mio can relate his own familial grief, hoping that Shun might try to make amends with his father, fearing he may pass before they can come to any sort of resolution. Mio is a lot more tolerant of Sakurako's arrival, and attempts to befriend her, despite her bitterness towards Mio's optimism. Sakurako cannot fathom that Mio would stick by Shun's side, having witnessed firsthand his potential to run away from his feelings. Étranger uses this narrative beat to offer an unexpected though greatly welcome nugget of wisdom; seeing Mio reveal that- to him- love means ultimately wishing happiness for your partner, and should Shun find happiness with somebody else, Mio is willing to accept this. The scene affirms that Mio is is far from immature in his approach to love. More so, this world view is clearly something he had adopted from his late mother, who is seen throughout flashbacks striving to keep her young son smiling, despite her financial struggles.
Next to Shun's development however, Mio's narrative journey of grief is comparatively far less evolved. Indeed, the majority of Mio's personal journey takes place during a period of time not seen, and is scarcely referenced in the present. We learn little of Mio's personality beyond his seemingly contradictory charisma and chronic social anxiety. Mio is more a tool for Shun to come to accept his queerness than he is his own well-developed character. And while he is indeed pleasant and a well-balanced emotional weight to Shun, Mio ultimately remains underdeveloped.
Umibe no Étranger concludes on a much more reserved note than its mid-narrative conflict, with Sakurako accepting of Shun and Mio's relationship, and the young men settling on visiting Shun's family in Okinawa together, rather than once again leaving the other behind. The pair consummate their relationship in a short and tender scene that is particularly welcome if considered comparatively to the typical sex scenes that saturate the romantic drama genre. Shun and Mio's relationship never feels the victim a scopophilic gaze, even in such an intimate moment, which utilises modest angles and majorly focuses on the dialogue between the pair, concerning their consent and personal comfort levels. Given the negative stereotypes of sexual assault and heteronormative gender roles often associated with the BL sub-genre, such an approach to a gay relationship was indeed a pleasant one to see depicted.
Ultimately Umibe no Étranger and the relationship at its centre make for a short and sweet viewing experience. Its pacing is rushed initially, though this smooths out gently during the film's second act. Its supporting cast- save Sakurako- are largely irrelevant, and had the film been longer, this, much like Éstranger's approach to the passage of time, could have been better addressed.
The animation is nothing ground-breaking, though is by no means poor, and remains consistent throughout. Éstranger's use of colour is particularly well-executed, and its vibrant pinks and greens suit the romantic and serine tone of the secluded island countryside well. Studio Hibari have been quiet in recent years, with their last substantial release being 2017's anime adaptation of Clean Freak! Aoyama-kun. It was interesting to see Hibari decide to release Étranger under their core banner, rather than their more frequently utilised subsidiary, Lerche studios, which previously animated both the Given series and movie, as well as the acclaimed Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun (Andō, 2020). As such, should Hibari Studios be making early attempts to revitalise their core brand, their potential to do so whilst continuing to pursue a style and niche similar to Umibe no Étranger, make them a studio force worth keeping an eye on.
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