Little Fish
ifc filmsIronically finding a delayed release due to a global pandemic, Chad Hartigan's Little Fish puts its center newlyweds in their own pandemic which sees an unexplained outbreak of severe memory loss within seemingly random individuals. Emma (Olivia Cooke) and Jude (Jack O’Connell) attempt to make their relationship work as Jude slowly begins to lose his memory, putting the couple's future in jeopardy. Finding an identity somewhere between Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and a number of apocalyptic thrillers, Little Fish is a film that is easier to appreciate than fully enjoy on its own.
Starting with what works: the performances from both Olivia Cooke and Jack O’Connell feel rather undeniable. Each actor is put in the challenging position of having to sell the audience on their established relationship and the love they share for each other while also having to live within this pandemic setting where their relationship is actively being stripped further and further away. This is a fine line that each actor walks near flawlessly – not letting their performance get lost in either side of the purpose their characters serve to the plot. These two feel thoughtful and purposeful giving truly tragic and emotional displays of love and fear that demand empathy and understanding from the audience.
This level of craft can also be found within the technical ability of the project. Not only is the cinematography from Sean McElwee genuinely gorgeous at times with its use of colors and shot composition, but the editing from Josh Crockett is slick and skillful. Little Fish is a film that often has its narrative defy the traditional boundaries of space and time with scenes casually rolling in and out of flashbacks. Whilst the screenplay from Mattson Tomlin is deserving of credit for making these flashbacks fit narrativity, the editing also works quite hard to make these transitions work and visually flow. The sheer idea that the editing is so smooth in these transitions that it is hardly noticeable speaks volumes to what easily could have been rough and distracting.
Though the screenplay from Mattson Tomlin absolutely has its moments, it also comes as the clear weak link within the film. Very similar to Mattson Tomlin's script for Netflix's Project Power, Little Fish is a film that attempts to do so much that the end result feels like a lesser sum of its parts. Nearly every individual piece of the project connects with a purpose and impact. The relationship drama is powerful, the apocalyptic pandemic is thrilling and the tragic nature of the relationship between the two feels like an emotional gut-punch, but when these elements are squeezed together into a 101-minute runtime, the end result feels unfortunately confused. The tone switches between romance, thriller, drama and comedy are often jarring and noticeable, while each individual section on its own often feels underwritten. Whilst there is clear emotion within the film, it ultimately feels like the film dances with the depths it wants to reach without actually reaching them and finding some deeper emotional breakthrough. This isn't to say that the film is worthless; it does leave an impact and has memorable moments but, largely, it always feels like the film could go just one more step and be something even more powerful than it actually is.
There is plenty to like within Little Fish. The concept is fresh and the film has clear talent both in front of and behind the camera leading to an overall watchable experience that will connect with most audiences to some degree. Whilst it does feel like the film could reach the next level and truly be in the conversation of being a modern masterpiece if it was simply more focused, what the final product actually ends up being is far from bad and is worth checking out.
