“Scuba” Finds Connection Through Performance
Theater has a way of breaking people out of their shells. Live performance of any kind can push someone so far beyond their comfort zone. There’s nowhere to hide when it’s you on a stage in front of people, a blinding light in your eyes. In that starkness and vulnerability is where writer/director Jacob Vaus’ Scuba lives. As much as its characters want to exist in the wings, away from the spotlight on their daily lives, something pulls them to center stage. It’s a catharsis that comes from being exposed through art.
Scuba centers on the intertwined lives of high school students Don (Johnathan Middleton) and Becca (Stephanie Reedy), who don’t run in the same social circles and are separated by grade levels. Becca is auditioning for the school musical with her boyfriend (Brock Kruckemeyer), while Don picks up extra work doing janitorial tasks for the school. One day when he’s cleaning, Don catches Becca’s audition and is entranced. Becca doesn’t get the role, but Don confesses to being an aspiring playwright and that gives her an idea: they’ll stage Don’s play and Becca will play the lead.
courtesy of Scuba
There’s a particular type of ennui that exists in high school outcasts living in the suburbs. It’s a theme that has popped up in recent films covered here, like Boys Go to Jupiter and Last Swim. High school is an isolating period of time in a young person’s life as they start to take on more responsibility and begin to understand their passions and desires. Problems are massive and miniscule at this time, and Scuba captures this duality in its framing. The focus shifts from extreme close-ups to far-away shots, sometimes in the same scene. The camera often acts like a fly on the wall, taking a more observational documentary style than a normal drama. It’s a quiet, sensitive approach, one that works marvelously for a film that’s centered on introspection. Yet for all the film’s realism, it still has an air of something hazy, something steeped in nostalgia. There’s nothing otherworldly happening in Scuba, but the film feels as though we’re living through a memory. Like Lady Bird, Scuba exemplifies the highs and lows of coming of age and the turbulence that goes with figuring out a place in this world.
courtesy of Scuba
Part of the reason for Don’s isolation comes from a traumatic loss relating to a swimming pool that the audience learns about as the film unfolds. Scuba opens with watery imagery, including toys sinking in a pool, and throughout the film, the audio becomes muffled as though we’re underwater. It’s a stifling and claustrophobic sensation imposed on the viewer and it puts them in Don’s mindset. We feel his sadness and the weight of loss crushing him from all angles. Middleton portrays Don with a hardened exterior that fundamentally bursts open only when he’s given the opportunity to mask his pain through performance art. It’s catharsis in the purest sense of the word, so raw and honest that you have to remind yourself this is scripted.
When Becca hits an emotionally low moment in time, her dad says to her, “Becca, you’re fifteen.” It’s exactly what Becca needs to hear and words that mean absolutely nothing to her in the moment. When you’re a teenager, emotions are big, small, and singular to the person experiencing them. As heavy as Scuba can be at times, it’s also quite a funny little film. A lot of that comes from the sheer, unbridled, unearned confidence of high school theater kids. Scuba is a marvelous little wonder, much like life itself.
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