Every industry puts the newbies on the bottom rung. Climbing each step swipes a little more of the glisten in young professionals’ eyes, but, as they say, hard work makes luck for those who stay true to course. “The Scout” is refreshingly not about this coveted ascension; it appreciates the small things that may one day be laid to rest. The responsibilities written between the lines, the management of other people’s emotions and the way it seeps into our sense of self, are brought into the spotlight.
Sofia (Mimi Davila) is a film and television location scout, a niche job that naturally begs the question “How did you get into that?” As she drives around New York City, fueled by voicemails from prospective clients calling back, the audience takes the back seat, limiting our sense of how Sofia feels while also conveying her constant rush. Scheduling photo shoots of strangers’ homes is unexpectedly personal. Constantly being on the go generates momentum for the film’s plot, but the framing of each scene when Sofia enters someone’s home glows with affect. The awkward, almost forced conversations settle the scale as imbalanced.
The movie is most joyful when Sofia spontaneously reconnects with an old friend after leaving a flyer on her doorstep. This interaction, no more than fifteen minutes of Sofia’s day (mirrored in the film), is also most enlightening about Sofia’s ghostlike nature. Even with prior familiarity, Sofia’s hesitancy toward vulnerability is strongest when she is in others’ space. Although she puts forth great care and respect for these folk’s homes, notably more so than her production colleagues, it’s clear this care is sadly and complicitly one-sided.
Writer and director Paula Andrea Gonzalez-Nasser is quite layered and intent about the film’s pace. “The Scout” is like a day-in-the-life, workplace drama. The script’s subtle simplicity leaves much unsaid, leaning on what must be seen and felt. Its slowness comes from our intimate knowledge of sitting in traffic and the necessary small talk; this slowness is welcome because it offers a new, lingering look into someone else’s everyday. Unlike the “get ready with me for” short-form videos that suffocate us in consumerism, “The Scout” is threaded vignettes in a stranger’s world. Those moments that put two people on the precipice of acquaintanceship add up to make a difference in one’s day-to-day.
At the same time, the pace mirrors the cyclical nature of Sofia’s job. Get in the car, park the car, get out of the car, go into the house, go out of the house, again and again. She moves quickly, counter to the audience’s experience of the story. “The Scout” never signals something bigger bubbling, but Davila’s body language shows Sofia simmering with something like dissatisfaction. The lack of a score makes every city-silence more meaningful; for a second, it’s as if we hear Sofia’s thoughts. Her moments alone, outside her car, are few and far between; like Sofia, the audience is bombarded by others’ opinions and thoughts. Gonzalez-Nasser’s personal knowledge of this role makes “The Scout” peculiarly poetic.
At the end of the day, the film forces us to observe an observer. In doing so, we’re left with more curiosities than takeaways, yet that doesn’t devalue its meaning. Oscillating between the frustration and contempt of the quotidian is personally universal, and “The Scout” stays true to its neutrality on the matter.
