Sweet but Lightweight, “Remarkably Bright Creatures” Delivers a Melodrama with an Eight-Armed Star

(SeaPRwire) –   A friend of mine, typically not picky about food, refuses to eat octopus. “I just can’t bring myself to eat any creature smarter than I am,” he says—and he has a fair point. Octopuses excel at solving problems and concealing themselves from predators. They use tools, recognize individual human faces, and may even possess a sense of humor. These traits alone might give anyone pause before ordering that grilled, tentacled dish.

Netflix’s Remarkably Bright Creatures, directed by Olivia Newman and based on Shelby Van Pelt’s 2022 novel, could have a similar effect. Sally Field stars as Tova Sullivan, an elderly widow who works night shifts as a cleaner at a Puget Sound aquarium. Though scrubbing away the day’s accumulation of schoolchildren’s smudges isn’t most people’s idea of enjoyment, Tova doesn’t mind: the quiet of the nighttime suits her, and she forms a quiet bond with one of the aquarium’s main attractions—a clever, sardonic octopus named Marcellus.

We know Marcellus is intelligent because we hear his thoughts, voiced by Alfred Molina, and he harbors plenty of opinions about humans. He resents life in captivity. “There’s no silence like the depths of the ocean,” he remarks, watching a group of loud children with his sharp, penetrating gaze. Adults don’t fare much better in his view. “I’m subjected to a species inferior to me in every measurable way,” he complains.

Yet Marcellus remains attuned to beauty: he observes that the fingerprints left by schoolkids on his tank’s glass are “as intricate as a moonshell.” And despite his efforts to deny it, he’s emotionally sensitive to the humans who hold him captive—especially Tova. He senses her deep sorrow, and rightly so. Her only son died years earlier, and she still wrestles with guilt, wondering if she played a role in his death. She’s also confronting a difficult decision: before passing away, her husband enrolled them both in a retirement community. For decades, she’s lived in a charming log cabin built by her father. Now, facing the uncertainties of aging, she questions whether it’s time to leave—though it’s clear she’s reluctant to do so.

One day, a stranger rolls into town in a battered chartreuse-and-cream minivan. Lewis Pullman plays Cameron, who claims he’s come to collect a debt from the gruff-but-friendly owner of the local general store, Ethan (played by Colm Meaney). But his van has broken down, and he lacks the money for repairs. Meanwhile, Tova has just fractured her ankle after slipping on the wet aquarium floor. Perhaps Cameron could fill in for her until she recovers? He reluctantly agrees—but since Tova can’t stay away from the aquarium, she insists on stopping by to teach him the right way to mop, polish, and clean away daily grime. As Marcellus watches—and occasionally escapes his tank for brief adventures—Tova and Cameron grow closer. Marcellus becomes convinced that these two troubled humans might help heal each other, but only with his intervention.

For a creature without a backbone, Marcellus is remarkably meddlesome. And perhaps not surprisingly, his intuition proves correct: the story unfolds through a series of coincidences set in a small tidal pool—highly improbable, yet soothing in its resolution. Remarkably Bright Creatures does lose some momentum when Marcellus isn’t on screen: watching him glide through his tank is captivating, his supple skin patterned like the weathered red of an old barn, his tentacles moving with balletic elegance. Molina’s voice-over is so persuasive that you begin to believe you’re truly hearing Marcellus’ thoughts. By comparison, the human characters can feel underwhelming.

Still, W.C. Fields warned against performing with children or animals—only because he never worked with Sally Field. Her decades-long career, spanning roles from Gidget to Mary Lincoln, stretches behind her like a radiant ribbon. She knows how to be fully present, even when acting opposite an octopus, and she renders Tova’s grief—and her longing for solitude—with authenticity and depth. Pullman makes a perceptive, empathetic counterpart: he seems to invest more in listening than speaking. Remarkably Bright Creatures is a film, much like its cephalopod co-star, with a gentle heart and an ethereal quality. It may not linger in memory for long, but it leaves behind a subtle, lasting impression.