“When we return to the water, a primitive reflex reignites, making us all natural-born freedivers.” So begins 7 Beats Per Minute, a film that sees freediving not only as an extreme sport that challenges physical limitations, but also a transformative practice to confront our origins. In her latest feature documentary, director Yuqi Kang (A Little Wisdom) follows Jessea Lu, the first Chinese female freediving champion, as she returns to the competition site where her 2018 world record-shattering attempt left her lifeless for four minutes.
Lu’s training involves more than expanding breath-holding abilities, physiological capacities, and endurance. Freediving demands mental discipline to remain relaxed at great depths and maintain awareness of bodily functions. After her near-death experience, Lu had a profound emotional revelation that surfaced past traumas related to her troubled upbringing, prompting her to direct critical attention to the psychological components of the sport. During this journey, Lu realized that she needed to feel supported as she finally returned to the world of freediving after a withdrawal that took years to overcome. At that point, Lu reached out to Kang, who was called to step outside the strict boundaries of her role as a documentary filmmaker.

When this project began, Kang was embarking on her own freediving journey. Intrigued by the visual potential and the psychological demands of the sport, she searched for a freediver who could serve as a compelling subject, meeting everyone from amateurs to professionals to champion athletes. Eventually, Kang found on social media Jessea Lu, renowned for her accomplishments in China, and reached out to her. When they finally met, Kang felt an immediate spark.
The plan, at first, was for Kang to follow Lu in Asia during December of 2019 and start filming, but the first COVID-19 outbreak halted the production. The pair ultimately spent a month in quarantine together, which provided valuable off-camera time to become acquainted. Gradually, their relationship transformed from that of filmmaker and subject to that of two friends navigating a lockdown during a global pandemic that disrupted every aspect of life.
Slowly, production resumed in 2021, with Kang observing Lu wrestling her inner demons during the second year of the pandemic. By 2022, Lu was participating in competitions again, but her aims had noticeably shifted. No longer chasing goals and records, Lu redoubled her efforts to bring her mental fitness up to the level of her innate physical abilities, which required reflecting upon her personal life and aspirations.
Eventually, she arrived at the conclusion that as risky as freediving was, the extreme sport created a space that allowed her to feel cared for. While training and competing, Lu was surrounded by people who were exceedingly concerned with her safety during dives—among whom was was Kang, who had been spending considerable time with Lu as a filmmaker and as a friend.

As the project progressed, Kang increasingly felt lines beginning to blur. Although documentarians generally have a responsibility for the wellbeing of their subjects, Kang was now directly involved in protecting Lu from bodily harm, taking freediving safety lessons and being present in the water during dives. Kang, who has an education in documentary filmmaking, knew that character-driven stories depended on building trust to gain access to subjects, but her unique relationship with Lu entered unfamiliar territory. “I have come to understand that Jessea gave me something very intimate about her life and her trauma. With this kind of access, I’m not just a storyteller,” says Kang.
This intimate friendship between filmmaker and subject differentiates 7 Beats Per Minute from other sports documentaries, raising considerations around ethics, objectivity and care for subjects. At one point in the film, Kang explicitly raises the question, “Shouldn’t there be more distance between a filmmaker and their subject?” When asked about her feelings on the subject now, Kang has no definitive answers and prefers to approach each project on its own terms but admits that she left this experience changed as a person and as a filmmaker. “I came to accept that what I thought was an ethical standard, in this project, didn’t stand anymore,” reveals Kang.
Another layer of the unique relationship between Kang and Lu was their shared life experience: They are both the same age, both grew up in China, are both native Chinese speakers, and both live in North America. Throughout production, they communicated in a seamless mixture of English and Chinese, both of which are heard in the film. This, in turn, strengthened their bond: “Because Jessea and I were the only Chinese speakers, that gave us a secret space among the film crew,” says Kang.
Kang’s experience with other elements of the production, however, brought complications. Each dive competition was tricky to navigate logistically: they were dropped in the middle of a place without much access to resources. For safety, Kang devised a rotating three-person system composed of herself, Lu and another diver, in which the person stationed on the surface would observe the other two underwater while keeping an eye on the captured footage. Although the filmmaker had freediving lessons, which instilled in her a sense of confidence when it came to underwater filming, each shoot brought surprises.
“Filming out in nature, I’ve now learned it’s always going to be that way,” Kang reflects. On any given day, the currents could be too powerful; the lighting could vary from when the location was scouted; or the equipment could accidentally be dropped underwater. For all the beauty that the ocean offered, it equally presented obstacles and surprises, making this the most challenging project that Kang had ever worked on.

To supplement her footage in the shallow bays and on the surface, Kang licensed footage from the competition organizers, who deployed specialized underwater cameras to broadcast deep dives. Beyond providing footage, the organizers were cooperative with the production, even willing to capture specific angles and shots that Kang had envisioned for the film. However, Lu’s comfort and performance always remained the highest priority—if her back was turned to where the camera was positioned, there was no way to avoid that.
Sometimes, the presence of a camera can motivate subjects to behave in ways that they would not otherwise. Out of concern for Lu’s psychological state leading up to competitions, Kang emphasized that she was not required to compete for the purpose of the film. She told Lu, “There is no pressure from the production side to compete for the sake of the film. It has to be your decision when you are ready to go.” With the knowledge that divers are highly sensitive prior to dives, Kang also avoided conducting interviews or addressing logistics with Lu to preserve her focus.
Despite appearances, Kang says, freediving isn’t exactly a solo sport. She notes that, for most extreme sports, athletes build a support network consisting of coach, trainer, and medical team. In freediving, divers often bring their intimate partners or another diver in for support. “In Jessea’s case, I became that person for her,” shares the filmmaker. Committed to supporting Lu as a friend, Kang implemented practices of care at every stage, which reinforced her motivation to tell the story in the first place.
“I wanted to tell a story about an immigrant Asian woman in this chapter of my life, and Jessea’s story landed in my hands. It was a story that had potential to go on the big screen.” says Kang. “I want the story to travel to America, Europe, China. It definitely speaks to a lot of immigrants, but Jessea’s experience with her family is also universal.”
7 Beats Per Minute is currently on the festival circuit.
It premiered at SXSW and Hot Docs and screens next at Available Light.
The film opens at Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema on Feb. 14.