The Water Is my Sky

Preface

I met Brian Tremml, the director of the documentary film The Water Is My Sky, during my junior year of college in 2023, when I sought counseling from Butler University's Counseling & Consultation Services department. Brian was working there as a counselor at the time, and he and I worked together for that spring semester, as well as the following academic year through private practice until I graduated in April 2024. Brian and I remain good friends and keep in touch. I am very grateful to have someone like him in my life.

I give this background because seeking help for your mental health should not be stigmatized. Allowing room for vulnerability in your life is a show of strength. Mental health, like physical health, requires maintenance, care, and exercise. If you or someone you know is in need of consultation or therapy, please reach out to a practitioner in your area. You are not alone.

The Water is my Sky

Boy, am I a sucker for a sports flick. Brian's documentary follows three different swimmers at different stages of life - one past the prime of his athletic career when he competed in the Sydney 2000 Olympics, one vying for the chance to compete in the Rio 2016 Olympics, and one still competing at the high school level, looking to sign with a college. We, as the audience, jump between each of these threads, following each one like a braided dance until they reach their conclusions. If you find yourself with the opportunity to watch this documentary, I highly recommend it - this documentary pulls on the heartstrings in all the right ways.

Jack's Score: 98/100

My Sport's Cousin

I have been a distance runner since the fifth grade, having competed through the high school level, and having completed my first marathon this past weekend. I have never been the caliber of athlete that would entertain the Olympics, only competing in one varsity meet during my high school career, but I know the rush of the race just like anyone else.

Meet sports have always been a "love it or hate it" sort of thing. When he was a kid, my friend's dad told him, "You can play any sport, as long as it doesn't kill our entire Saturday." I get the idea - play a game, win or lose, and that's that, but there's a really great quote in this documentary that gets at what I love so much about my sport.

"There are so many different ways to measure success and achievement other than winning or losing. In basketball, you win or you lose, or in other sports like that, that's really how you're judged. Did you win the game or lose the game? In swimming, you can lose the race, but still go best time, and that's a huge accomplishment."

Maybe I like it because I was never a medalist, but then again, that quote from Tom Wilkins, an Olympic athlete. There's something so rewarding about those kinds of wins, even if it's just knocking the smallest amount off your time, because it shows that you've pushed yourself to new heights. Tom Wilkins was a college recruit to Stanford, but not a scholarship athlete. He found his way to the Olympics because of his heart and his drive.

The Narrative Weave

Watching this documentary, I felt twinges of panic or mourning for no longer being the high school athlete I was (I'm 23, it's not that serious...), but that's also why I love the narrative structure of this film, following three athletes at different stages of life. With each new day, we spin the narratives of our own lives in new directions, and we each will take on different roles as life goes on: athlete, coach, student, mentor, child, parent. These all go hand-in-hand with the progression of life. I mentioned at the start of the article that I'm a sucker for a sports flick. It's true, anything from Prefontaine to Miracle to American Underdog will get me choked up. As I write this, I'm thinking about why, and the reason I've stumbled upon is that there is something tragically beautiful in the fleeting nature of an athletic career. It is a stand-in for the human lifecycle, an opportunity for triumph, and an avenue for individual expression all rolled into one. We see all of these in the narrative here. The story concludes by telling us how each of the careers of these athletes ended, each in its own unique way and its own triumphant moment.

Documentaries are told in the B-Roll

I love a good documentary, but I mean a good documentary. A bad documentary is almost unwatchable. The difference lies in the B-roll. B-roll, if you don't know, are the clips that aren't of people talking or central to the narrative, like race footage or the like. B-roll is a documentarian's opportunity to put you in the shoes of the central character, to allow you to feel what the subject feels.

The B-roll in The Water Is My Sky nails that feeling. I can feel the anticipation of the race from the starting block and feel the rush of adrenaline as the swimmer kicks off. I fall into the methodical rhythm of training with the shots of packed swim lanes, and I can feel the freedom of flight in the shots taken from under the water's surface.

The poetry of the title, The Water Is My Sky, draw from a quote from the book it adapts, which talks about Tom Wilkin's 200 I.M. race at the Olympics. "He is soaring above his own talent. He is in the sky and is brushing as close to heaven as a human can ever get." This quote, paired with the final shot, gives this documentary such an emotional resonance that cannot be overstated. If only ever so slightly, man might experience what it is like to be a bird by taking to the water.