The Shark on the Roof: A Metaphor for Grief and Growth
There’s something undeniably captivating about a shark perched on a roof. It’s absurd, it’s whimsical, and yet, in the context of Learning to Breathe Under Water, it’s profoundly meaningful. Personally, I think this film is a masterclass in using the bizarre to explore the deeply human. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the shark becomes more than just a quirky set piece—it’s a symbol of grief, imagination, and the ways we cope with the incomprehensible.
The Power of a Child’s Perspective
At the heart of the film is Leo, an eight-year-old boy who processes his mother’s absence through a fantastical lens. His father, an artist, builds a massive shark on their roof, and Leo confides in it as if it were his best friend. From my perspective, this isn’t just a cute narrative device; it’s a brilliant way to show how children navigate loss. What many people don’t realize is that kids often use imagination to make sense of the world when reality feels too overwhelming. Leo’s shark isn’t just a shark—it’s a stand-in for the mother he’s lost, a way to keep her memory alive in his own terms.
What this really suggests is that grief isn’t linear, especially for children. It’s messy, it’s creative, and it’s deeply personal. The film doesn’t shy away from this complexity, and that’s what makes it so compelling. If you take a step back and think about it, the shark on the roof is a visual representation of how we all carry our burdens, often in ways that seem strange to outsiders.
Anya: The Catalyst for Change
Enter Anya, the au pair played by Maria Bakalova, whose boundless energy and honesty disrupt Leo’s carefully constructed world. One thing that immediately stands out is how Anya’s character serves as a mirror for both Leo and his father. She’s the outsider who forces them to confront their silence and their pain. In my opinion, Anya’s role is crucial because she embodies the idea that sometimes, healing requires someone to shake us out of our comfort zones.
What’s especially interesting is how Bakalova describes Anya as having a ‘childlike personality.’ This isn’t just about being playful—it’s about being unafraid to ask difficult questions and challenge the status quo. Personally, I think this is a commentary on how adults often lose that sense of curiosity and vulnerability, which are essential for growth. Anya’s character reminds us that sometimes, the most profound changes come from those who dare to be unapologetically themselves.
The Metaphor of Breathing Under Water
The film’s title, Learning to Breathe Under Water, is a metaphor that resonates on multiple levels. On the surface, it’s about Leo learning to swim, but deeper down, it’s about learning to navigate life’s challenges without drowning in them. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Bakalova connects this to her own swimming lessons, noting how professional swimmers keep their heads underwater, only coming up for quick breaths.
This raises a deeper question: How do we learn to keep going when life feels like we’re submerged? The film suggests that it’s about acceptance—accepting the pain, the loss, and the uncertainty. What this really implies is that growth isn’t about escaping hardship; it’s about learning to coexist with it. The shark disappears, the poster comes down, and Leo is forced to face the void. But in that moment, he learns to breathe.
The Role of Animation and Sound
The film’s use of animation and sound is another layer of brilliance. The animated sequences aren’t just stylistic choices—they’re windows into Leo’s mind. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film blends the real and the imagined, creating a world that feels both grounded and magical. The recurring toast-popping sound, for instance, isn’t just a quirky detail; it’s a jarring reminder of the mundane in a world that’s anything but.
From my perspective, this is a commentary on how even the smallest, most ordinary things can carry emotional weight. The toast is a connection to Leo’s mother, a ritual that ties him to her memory. The sound of it popping isn’t just a noise—it’s a trigger, a reminder of what’s been lost. This is where the film truly shines: in its ability to find the extraordinary in the everyday.
Why This Film Matters
Learning to Breathe Under Water isn’t just a story about a boy and a shark; it’s a meditation on grief, connection, and the human capacity for resilience. What many people don’t realize is that films like this have the power to change how we see the world. They remind us to be kinder, to listen more, and to acknowledge that it’s okay not to be okay.
Personally, I think this film is a call to action—not just for parents and children, but for anyone who’s ever felt overwhelmed by life. It’s a reminder that healing isn’t linear, that imagination can be a lifeline, and that sometimes, the most profound lessons come from the most unexpected places.
In a world that often feels chaotic and unkind, Learning to Breathe Under Water offers a glimmer of hope. It’s a film that doesn’t shy away from the hard questions but answers them with compassion and creativity. And that, in my opinion, is what makes it truly special.
