THE STORY – On the main island of Okinawa, Kamei and his friends find themselves contemplating their future during summer break before their final year of high school. Everything shifts when Colin, a young teenager raised on the American base, enters their lives. First sexual awakenings, blurred loyalties, and betrayal unfold beneath the drone of helicopters. Amidst the subtle power plays between locals and occupiers, the clashes and similarities between Kamei and Colin reveal a raw coming-of-age story that asks what it means to belong.
THE CAST – Naoto Shimajiri, West Mulholland, Ichiro Andre Castro, Daido, Yuma Taira, Shiyun Nakamura, Erika Oda & Sachiko Fukumoto
THE TEAM – Xavier Tera (Director & Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 110 Minutes
After the Battle of Okinawa, the American military seized control of the Ryukyu Islands. For over two decades, the region was occupied, long after the Second World War ceased. Although the islands were returned to Japan in 1972, the American military’s presence looms large through the construction and establishment of its bases. The reason for their continued presence puzzles current residents, and the image of camouflaged Westerners is less welcome in the Okinawa community. To this day, the noise of roaring airplanes and raucous helicopters is an auditory reminder of the American military’s presence, whose political power looms in the background of ordinary life on the picturesque islands.
The turbulent geopolitical history of Okinawa forms the backdrop of Xavier Tera’s “The Color of the Sun”. For young Canadian talent, the filmmaker gravitated towards the history, legacy, and resilience of the Okinawan prefecture for his debut feature. Set on the cusp of the early 2010s, Tera uses old social media interfaces to mark the period. As the world is slowly becoming more interconnected, the irony of the protagonist’s alienation becomes more apparent. For Kamei, the recent passing of his father has shattered his family. Cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom captures Kamei’s alienation through staggering celluloid compositions, using the evocative rule of thirds to separate Kamei from his community and surroundings. As our protagonist grows more comfortable with his social routine, the images become more diverse in composition and framing, embodying and visually symbolizing an idealism that awakens within the young teenager.
“The Color of the Sun” takes place during a transitional summer for the impressionable teen. Accosted by his restrictive grandfather and heartbroken mother, Kamei wanders and pensively contemplates his imprisoned home, dreaming of escaping the islands for a fresh start. Occasionally, Tera implements didactic narration from his absent-minded protagonist that forces needless background context on the viewer. While these sparse moments begin and bookend the film, the expositional dialogue undercuts the power of the film’s subtle dramaturgy.
Amid the family pandemonium, the thundering noise of fighter jets interrupts the drama. The motif of militarisation repeats throughout, as the sonic reminder of the military’s presence shakes the Okinawan ground. Amidst the slow journey towards overcoming grief, the broken family also faces social oppression from the neighboring Americans. As accusations of sexual assault emerge from the base, the soldiers escape with impunity. As the populace becomes riled up against the lack of justice for the victims, prejudices and generalizations begin to restrict Kamei’s interactions with his international neighbors.
By pure happenstance and for the sake of an interesting narrative, Kamei inevitably befriends an American. Our protagonist crosses paths with the rapscallious and easy-going Colin, a blond teen with a chaotic edge. Embodying an allure of spontaneity that immediately attracts Kamei, Colin represents the inverse of Okinawan society. Attracted by his foreignness and happy-go-lucky mantra, a subdued relationship sparks between the two men, as Kamei begins to confront his sexuality. Rather than using expositional dialogue to dictate emotion, Tera instead uses impressively coordinated long takes to explore the young men’s unearthed desires. Instead of preaching their backstory to the audience, we learn about their sexuality through their actions and minimalist camera movement. One awkward sex scene perfectly captures the uncertainty of Kamei’s identity, second-guessing his own sexuality amidst the dawn of his newfound desires.
Tera’s Canadian lineage provides a universal touch to his subtle commentary. The imperialist history of Okinawa mirrors the ramifications of Canadian colonization, as the fears of the oppressed are part of the history of both countries. Fears of the American military also loom over the Canadian populace at this moment, as the unpredictable power of the Western establishment remains uncertain for both Tera and his Japanese cast. “The Color of the Sun” transcends cultural boundaries by providing an integral commentary on acceptance and skepticism in the age of imperial rule. Tera’s sensitive text acknowledges the dark history of his setting, framing the populace’s intergenerational trauma as the central conflict. The conclusions he reaches within his small-scale story ultimately promote critical thinking, acknowledging both the danger and beauty in befriending the so-called “enemy” of the people.
In the end, the characters learn to accept their different cultural backgrounds, as their pasts and upbringings are what ultimately draw them together at the end of its ruminating saga. “The Color of the Sun” is an ode to social tolerance and self-acceptance. The result is a vulnerable, deeply sensitive coming-of-age odyssey that beautifully promotes connection during a time of great darkness. “The Color of the Sun” is one of the year’s best debut features — an impressive feat of pure cinema.
