As a champion freediver, Jessea Lu describes in the early minutes of her own documentary, “7 Beats Per Minute,” the film’s title reflects the heart rate a freediver should target to ensure success during a competitive diving event. There’s no question such a sport sits as one of the world’s most dangerous, the act of holding one’s breath for a protracted length of time while engaging in any number of underwater activities. It’s here that Lu’s event of choice involves descending to unimaginable depths while following a set length of rope, all without the use of a scuba diving apparatus, before resurfacing. It’s a sport where the risks associated are far too high, with unconsciousness and death among the most likely.
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At least, that’s what we’re led to believe. At an hour and forty minutes, “7 Beats Per Minute” is an overlong effort, though not without its share of beautiful underwater photography and moments of genuine tension when we see Lu attempt her dives as the sound gradually fades along with the rays of sunlight above. There’s an atmosphere throughout, and Lu’s never reluctant to discuss copious amounts of her life and freediving career. This personal intimacy leads to the film’s repeated camera turns toward Yuqi Kang, the director and another almost-lead character in the documentary she’s helming. It’s rare to see such a relationship onscreen. Though it’s relevant as to whether Kang’s presence is an asset or detriment concerning Lu’s journey, every time a heated conversation between the women turns towards an argument, it starts to feel tiresome before long. 
It’s something that, when paired with precisely what happened with Lu, sets much of the film’s events in motion and unnecessarily causes much of the messaging to become bogged down. The moment serving as Lu’s turning point involved a 2018 dive when, while pursuing a world record, our heroine blacked out for a handful of minutes and was as close to death as any freediver who’s found themselves in a similar position; as Lu recalls, though her body lay motionless on the deck of a nearby boat, surrounded by emergency personnel, she saw her unconscious form. Shortly after that, her focus shifted toward a balance of work in clinical pharmacology (which, by the way, is the first time her field of employment is mentioned) alongside the resumption of her training. However, her future as a freediver remains as murky as the water in which she pursued diving success.  
From start to finish, Lu’s narration moves throughout, loaded with countless thoughts as she reflects on what freediving means to her in more ways than simply that of her chosen athletic endeavor. However, as the film moves past the trauma of 2018, Lu takes the time to speak on the trauma of a different kind, that of her oft-harsh childhood and the problematic relationship with a mother unafraid of casting cruel words towards Lu. It’s not at all difficult to see how such a background could figure into her motivation as a diver. As the film shows Lu in competition for the first time since her blackout and subsequent failure, it becomes clear her recovery remains far from over. “7 Beats Per Minute,” by this point, can clearly be seen as Lu’s meditation on her connection with freediving, something established to the end of near-exhaustion. Is this method Kang’s way of finding a balance to help Lu feel less intruded by a camera while telling what both women believe to be the central story? In this sense, it feels like a success, but arriving at that point is a long road.
It’s impossible to ignore the word “sea” in Jessea’s name; Lu consciously decided to include it as another way of showing her passion for freediving and commitment. One should presumably emerge from “7 Beats Per Minute” and be similarly convinced of Lu’s dedication. There’s likely no other way to convey this message than through how Kang executed this documentary. The inevitable third-act triumph isn’t hard to predict, enough to hope future success in the sport awaits Lu, but in capturing a portrait of the athlete to this point in her life, it’s clear there’s absolutely nothing else to say. [C+]