Joel on Film

The octopus dreams of a life outside the captivity of a tank in a lonely aquarium, observing humans by way of a specific person—the only one with whom he spends any length of time. Marcellus, the cephalopod in question and the narrator of Remarkably Bright Creatures, has had some time to come to a conclusion about the homo sapiens, which is that they’re a little dull. Watching co-writer/director Olivia Newman’s film, an adaptation of the 2022 novel by Shelby Van Pelt (co-adapted with John Whittington), we can’t help but to agree with him, sort of, about that point: The two characters at the center of this story are a bit dull.

That isn’t to suggest they aren’t believably frail, as most humans are in the face of tragedy or drudgery, by the way. It’s simply to acknowledge the fact that, beyond their troubles, there isn’t much to these characters, who live entirely in the past and do very little in looking toward the future. Then, there’s the matter of the octopus, from whose perspective, one supposes, this story is being told, although he mostly finds himself bemused by their suffering and their occasional stupidity.

As voiced by a matter-of-fact Alfred Molina and brought to life with some convincing digital effects, Marcellus is more of a plot device than an actual character—here to act as a bonding agent between the characters and the iterated themes of the piece, which are plainly stated during a denouement that goes for emotions the film unfortunately does not quite earn. Before we get there, though, there’s the sheer amount that always seems to be happening in this plot, which follows the fortunes and misfortunes of two human characters. They, obviously, meet because of Marcellus.

Tova (Sally Field) is a quiet and unassuming woman living in Sowell Bay, Washington, working as a cleaning woman at the aquarium in question and, otherwise, not really taking part in any aspect of her life. We quickly realize that there must be something in this woman’s past that has led her to isolate herself from her friend group (three women played by Joan Chen, Kathy Baker and Beth Grant) and even plan to move away from the area without telling anyone—begging the prospective realtor to keep the information on the down-low, ahead of a silent exit. There’s a certain room in her house she refuses to enter, and at this point, we’re getting close to the puzzle of this woman.

Cameron (Lewis Pullman) is a young man and musician who has arrived in Sowell Bay with the specific mission of finding someone who owes him a lot of money. He needs to find a job, and after striking out a few times, he gets hooked up to be Tova’s replacement upon her imminent departure, with the hopes that the expectant windfall will fund the production of an album and maybe even a tour for his band, named Moth Sausage. What he’s really after is a confrontation with his birth father, whom his late mother—recently deceased as a result of a drug overdose—never identified.

To say too much more about the events that bring these two characters together would be to enter “spoiler” territory, of course, but let’s only say that it involves the kind of schmaltzy melodrama that cannot entirely be overlooked in favor of a strong performance or two or the strange gimmick of seeing all this through the eyes of a sea creature. The film is at its best when it simply allows the two central characters to talk—about Tova’s source of tremendous guilt and about what Cameron feels he has been missing—and especially when Field gets to prove why she’s one of the great actresses. Each one also gets a romantic connection to tease, before temporarily ruining it with a storytelling contrivance: Tova is thoroughly ignoring the advances of the kind and understanding grocer Ethan (Colm Meaney), and Cameron meets-cute with Avery (Sofia Black-D’Elia), the owner of a surf shop.

The movie is a delicate creation, constantly on the verge of collapsing into itself and, unfortunately, doing exactly that upon reaching the particularly loaded finale with its major revelations and the massive implications that come along with them. The octopus ends up only mattering so much in Remarkably Bright Creatures, which has its heart in the right place but lacks some of the focus necessary to channel its intentions.

Rating: **½ (out of ****)