SCUBA (2024) Review: Raw and Personal!

March 21, 2025 Surya Komal 1 Comment English Movies, Hollywood, Hollywood Movie Reviews, Hollywood Movies, Jacob Vaus, Johnathan Middleton, Scuba, Stephanie Reedy

Some films capture the rush of youth—the longing, the ambition, the quiet desperation to be seen. SCUBA takes that feeling and transforms it into something raw and deeply personal. Written and directed by Jacob Vaus, the film follows two high school misfits, Don and Becca, who find solace in each other and embark on an ambitious project: staging their own school play. Don, an outcast with a fractured home life, drifts through school unseen.

Becca, a theater hopeful, is once again cast aside in the school’s annual production. Frustrated by their constant rejection, they take matters into their own hands, determined to create something grand—a jungle epic that will prove their worth. But as rehearsals push them to their limits, tensions rise, and their safe haven begins to crack. What starts as a shared dream soon becomes a test of their friendship, their ambition, and their own self-worth.

Visually, SCUBA reflects the inner world of its lead characters with remarkable precision. The camera work by Sean Thomson is steeped in gloom, its somber, muted tones mirroring the loneliness that Don and Becca carry with them. The use of light is subtle, almost hesitant, as if the film itself is afraid of shining too brightly. This quiet approach makes the moments of warmth and closeness between the characters feel all the more striking. Paired with an equally restrained yet detailed production design, the film crafts a world that feels lived-in—messy rooms, dimly lit hallways, and makeshift rehearsal spaces adding to its grounded authenticity.

Equally distinct is the film’s background score, composed by James Orr. It avoids conventional melodies, instead weaving together an array of unique sounds that complement the film’s tone. The music doesn’t overpower—it lingers, accentuating moments of stillness, reinforcing the delicate emotional balance between the leads. It’s an understated but deeply effective choice, one that ensures the film’s atmosphere stays immersive and deeply felt.

At the heart of SCUBA are Don and Becca, two characters who feel achingly real, brought to life through mature and deeply nuanced performances by Johnathan Middleton and Stephanie Reedy. Don is quiet, withdrawn, carrying the weight of his fractured home life on his shoulders. Middleton plays him with remarkable restraint, letting the smallest expressions and subtle body language hint at his inner turmoil.

Becca, on the other hand, is expressive, driven by an intense need for validation. Reedy’s performance is electric—she channels Becca’s frustrations and insecurities with a rawness that makes every outburst, every moment of vulnerability, feel earned. Together, Middleton and Reedy craft a dynamic that is both tender and volatile, making their friendship feel heartbreakingly real.

While this movie presents itself as a coming-of-age story, it leans heavily into dark drama, carrying an underlying tension that never quite lets up. Jacob Vaus demonstrates an impressive command of tone, maintaining a quiet unease throughout the film. As Don and Becca push forward with their ambitious play, their relationship begins to unravel, and the film refuses to offer easy resolutions. The tension builds slowly, simmering beneath the surface until it inevitably boils over, making for a gripping and emotionally charged experience.

That said, this is not a film for those looking for a conventional, feel-good high school story. It demands patience. Its quiet pacing, its refusal to offer easy catharsis—these choices might test some viewers. But for those willing to embrace it, the film offers something far more profound: a raw, unfiltered look at ambition, failure, and the desperate need to be seen.

By the time the credits roll, SCUBA leaves a lingering impression. It’s a film about young people trying to carve out a space for themselves in a world that seems indifferent. It’s about the illusions we create, the way we cling to dreams, and the painful realization that we are, in the end, small. And yet, within that smallness, there’s something beautiful—a quiet, unshakable truth that stays with you long after the final frame.