THE STORY – Sofia is a location scout tasked with finding the perfect interiors for a new TV pilot—yet what she’s really searching for may be harder to pin down. She slips in and out of strangers’ homes, capturing fleeting moments of intimacy, curiosity, and vulnerability, until her work takes a sudden, personal turn.
THE CAST – Mimi Davila, Rutanya Alda, Max Rosen, Ikechukwu Ufomadu, Sarah Herrman, Otmara Marrero & Matt Barats
THE TEAM – Paula González-Nasser (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 89 Minutes
There’s beauty to be found in wandering. In a world that seems to be always dragging us from Point A to Point B, constantly seeking to clear our next checkpoint of productivity, it should always be taken when the opportunity presents itself to slow down and take the world in as is. “The Scout,” Paula Andrea González-Nasser’s beautiful directorial debut, understands that. Not only does it depict a character who could stand to learn such a lesson (despite having a job that requires her to move around and through all corners of New York City), but in its tone and pace, “The Scout” forces the audience to slow down and take the world in on its own terms. It’s pointedly aimless – at times threatening to become frustrating in its slowness – but in its simplicity, it uses unremarkable subjects to comment on the remarkability possible in any average day.
“The Scout” glues its camera onto Sofia (Mimi Davila), a young woman with a job that many film lovers have likely been curious about – location scouting. She spends her days cruising around New York, accumulating parking tickets as she seeks out filming spots for what sounds like a mid-tier true crime television series. It’s her job to find these locations, correspond with the residents, and take photographs of their homes in hopes that the production team will like what they see.
In terms of plot, “The Scout” is intentionally light. In fact, the rhythm of Sofia’s quiet life is presented as realistically measured. The film opens with a long shot of her from afar, simply lying in bed, gathering the strength to get up and go about her day. A less keenly observed film might use this to paint its subject as lazy or forlorn, but literally, everybody has had mornings like this (some more often than not). From there, we follow her as she meets with the inhabitants of potential locations, having conversations with them that range from bizarre and off-putting to heartbreaking. In these interactions, we see the curious truth that people can be more comfortable sharing their deepest thoughts and feelings with strangers they’ll likely never see again, often in a transactional setting. As one of them puts it, “I don’t really talk much with anyone anymore. There’s so much that I just don’t tell anyone.” Every taxi driver and bartender can relate to this, and an unconventional career is shown to receive the same treatment here. These confessional, illuminating chats (often one-sided, as nobody seems to be interested in Sofia’s life) are fascinating to witness, and they’re written in a manner that effectively presents a detailed portrait of the subject in just a fraction of the time it would take a therapist to dredge up these inner thoughts. Outside of these conversations that feel like jumping into the proverbial deep end, the film has a light, true-to-life (and true-to-New York) humorous tone. The endless voicemails that Sofia listens to are hilarious. In one, her boss says they need an apartment that’s “shitty, lower class, where a murder could happen” – a great encapsulation of how showbiz people speak.
This screenwriting pattern is quietly powerful, but, like so many similar films, it can’t last. In the third act, things take a seemingly inevitable dramatic turn. And while the stakes are incredibly low compared to the vast majority of fictional stories, it’s still a bit deflating to see the film veer into more contrived plot points.
Davila makes for a compelling central figure, which is essential for a film that has her in the frame nearly every second. She has a magnetic quality even when she’s not speaking, which is how she spends most of her screen time. Notably, she’s really excellent at portraying Sofia in the different ways she must interact with different people circumstantially. Specifically, she has a great “customer service” voice and manner that she turns on whenever she speaks with a potential location’s inhabitant – a relatable choice that will resonate with anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of working in customer service.
Watching “The Scout,” the over-performed yet still-effective song “Seasons of Love” from the musical “Rent” comes to mind. Indeed, Sofia seems to measure her life (intentionally or not) in the mundane: parking tickets, voicemails, flyers, etc. But it’s what occurs around these tangible totems of time passing where life finds its meaning. Namely, in the connections she makes – and too often ignores – along the way. “The Scout” serves to remind its audience that there’s profundity all around us, and it’s up to us whether we want to take notice of that or not. Measure your life in love, indeed.
