On paper, Sofia (Mimi Davila), the protagonist of Paula Andrea González-Nasser’s mellow debut The Scout, has an enviable job. She spends her days driving through New York, taking photos of building exteriors, cozy apartments and eclectic shops in service of her director’s vision. Sofia is a location scout, an occupation that conjures romantic images of one’s relationship to space. 

The truth is that Sofia’s job can be taxing, and in The Scout, which premiered in June at the Tribeca Film Festival, González-Nasser, who was herself a location scout for six years, crafts a modest portrait of its complicated reality. The director reveals how location scouting involves an emotional deftness, a stultifying deference to a director’s vision and lots of patience. Sofia deploys these tools to broker deals between her team and the people from whom they want things. She must act with the urgency demanded by her bosses and be sensitive to the fact that these locations are homes to real people whose memories live in the furniture and on the walls. Often subsumed by other people’s needs and narratives, Sofia struggles to not become a background character in her own story.

Working from a screenplay she wrote, Gonzàlez-Nasser structures The Scout around discrete interactions Sofia has throughout the day. The film confidently highlights the delicate relationship between people and their spaces, while also acknowledging the understated harshness of a job that requires you to assess, with a certain degree of remove, one of the more intimate elements of another person’s life. Parts of The Scout, in its contemplative tone and observational style, reminded me of Perfect Days. Like Wim Wenders’ poignant study of a middle-aged janitor’s routines in Tokyo, The Scout could find success in arthouse theaters and on the festival circuit. 

When we meet Sofia, she is asleep in her own space — a compact, well-lit apartment somewhere in New York. The room resembles the dwellings of so many young people living in the expensive and bustling city. There’s the starkness of the walls, painted an impersonal white, and the minor touches — a standing fan, a gold framed mirror, a small drawing affixed to the wall — that suggest signs of a real life. Following this moment, the young location scout will almost exclusively occupy the shops and homes of other people. 

Each space offers an opportunity for Sofia to remake herself. The transformations are subtle; the location scout tweaks her personality just enough to connect with the person living in the space so that they might be more amenable to letting a random crew of people take it over. Sometimes, as with an older woman (Rutanya Alda) who tells Sofia about her son who moved to London and rarely visits, the interactions are sweet and revelatory. It’s clear that Sofia’s presence — her kind eyes and encouraging responses — doubles as an invitation for lonelier people to share parts of their life with her. Other times, as with the pet shop owner (Matt Barats) who asks her to dinner or a father (Max Rosen) who follows her around the house with an air of menace, the encounters are fraught and a touch scary. Yet rarely does Sofia lose her cool. 

The young woman, played with a quiet conviction by Davila (Problemista), navigates each situation with an understanding that her role in these people’s lives is merely temporary. Her approach differs from that of her colleagues, who barge into these homes with no consideration and much fanfare. They appraise each space with a callous indifference toward who lives there, commenting on ugly doors and unimpressive heirlooms. 

Other elements of The Scout reinforce our sense of this transient atmosphere. Cinematographer Nicola Newton shoots each location — whether its Sofia’s room or a brownstone in Brooklyn — with the kind of attention reserved for places you know you’ll never return to. A spare score (composed by Dan Arnés) and the familiar melodies of a cityscape (birds chirping, engines running) soundtrack Sofia’s experiences. 

Despite their meditative loveliness, low-key projects like The Scout can leave something to be desired in terms of narrative. The lure of a story built on vignettes can shortchange its principal characters and the constellation of supporting ones. As Sofia floats from one home to the next, I wondered about the texture of her life. Gonzàlez-Nasser offers some clues through an interaction between Sofia and her old friend Becca (Otmara Morrero), whose gorgeous apartment has been unexpectedly included on the list of the scout’s locations. Their reunion is brief but laden with the weight of history. Conversations about mutual friends and retired dreams are revealing of Sofia’s aspirations; Becca remarks on how Sofia always wanted to be behind the camera and how she, in a way, is a photographer now. The scout doesn’t completely agree and the ensuing silence suggests a history of compromise.

It also exposes a pattern in Sofia’s earlier interactions, underscoring how much the scout almost disappears into each story. When she finally has a moment of self-assertion, in a quiet moment on the beach, it’s a triumph I wish had come sooner.