Olivia Newman's Remarkably Bright Creatures opens with the voice and POV of an octopus named Marcellus (voiced by Alfred Molina), who makes trite observations, like Tova (Sally Field) and Cameron (Lewis Pullman) suffer from similar afflictions and can heal one another. The octopus is present mainly to underline what's already obvious through a quirky tone meant to amuse the audience, though the quirkiness often feels like a coating applied to make the dull exposition easier to digest. I suspect even Newman and her co-writer John Whittington understand that the tentacled sea animal contributes nothing significant, so they devise a climactic twist to prove how smart and keenly observant Marcellus is—and how the movie really deserves its title. It's the kind of twist that throws the movie off balance, transforming it into something unintentionally hilarious. It's one thing to suggest that Tova and Cameron's relationship resembles that of close friends or family members. It's another thing entirely to literalize the notion. The reveal sits uncomfortably on the screen because it feels imported from a twisty thriller—a thriller that keeps viewers guessing by repeatedly pulling the rug out from beneath them.
For most of its runtime, though, Remarkably Bright Creatures plays out like a sweet, gentle small-town drama. It gives off the vibe of the sort of film where strangers ultimately become close friends or find a surrogate father, mother, or child in the company of a kind stranger. The final revelation, with its jarring element of shock, spoils the cuddly tone of Remarkably Bright Creatures—it undermines the movie's very essence. I have not read Shelby Van Pelt's novel, from which the film is adapted, but Wikipedia informs me that "it has been on the New York Times hardcover fiction best-seller list multiple times." What made it such a hit? Its sentimentality? Its carefully packaged sadness and emotional coziness? Going by this adaptation, the story possesses no other virtue, though "virtue" may itself be a euphemism for emotional manipulation. Newman sees the characters and the drama with gooey eyes; she crafts a cinematic adaptation that practically cries out for a group hug.
The appeal of movies like Remarkably Bright Creatures lies in their hermetically sealed worlds, where goodness eventually triumphs over everything else. People who are too tired and frustrated by reality enjoy exposing themselves to these fictional realms to experience the comfort missing from their own lives. And Remarkably Bright Creatures might well turn out to be a success for Netflix, given that, apart from delivering exactly what casual viewers demand—small-scale drama, thin characters, and simplistic emotions—it also finds, in Sowell Bay, a stunning setting for its events. This is the kind of eye-pleasing backdrop that sends you searching the Internet for the movie's filming location. When Tova releases Marcellus into the water or tells Cameron about the engraving on a ring, you don't really see the characters or feel for them. Instead, your eyes drift toward the gorgeous night view, enhanced by light rain, cool air, and distant lights glowing from streetlamps and houses. It's a perfect picture-postcard image; it fills you with the urge to visit the place standing in for Sowell Bay. Remarkably Bright Creatures may not be a good drama, but it succeeds as a delightful tourist advertisement. At the very least, these Netflix productions make it easier for travel vloggers to come up with ideas about which places to visit for their content. I would gladly watch a YouTube video showing the "real" Sowell Bay.
Final Score - [3.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times