In a world that's been rocked with an unexplainable disease that leaves its victims with deteriorating memory loss, Little Fish is a thinly veiled look at the ravages of both Alzheimer's disease and dementia. The film focuses on couple Emma and Jude as Jude is stricken with this degenerative disease. The timing of this movie is not lost on viewers; as we continue to battle COVID-19, there's thematic parallels of a disease that attacks the mind rather than the body. As the world becomes increasingly desperate for a cure, we see how the disease affects first the couple's friends and eventually the couple themselves. In stark contrast from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, another sci-fi film that deals with couples and the loss of memories, the power of memory is seen in a positive light, highlighting the strong bond between Emma and June and their journey of their relationship.
Olivia Cooke is fast becoming one of my favorite actresses to watch. After turning in solid performances in both Sound of Metal and Pixie, she continues her hot streak here. As the events of Little Fish are seen through Emma's eyes, Cooke is our way into this world as we watch her struggle with the inevitability of her husband's mental demise. Anger, fear, and frustration all play key parts, intertwined with the excitement of starting a new relationship thanks to the film's editing. Jack O'Connell also turns in a convincing role as Jude's slow and steady descent into forgetfulness is intercut with his charm and likeability during the flashbacks. Unfortunately he's not as captivating as Cooke, who deals with the emotional burden of handling the decline. Still, O'Connell gives us enough to root for Jude as he fights to remember the details of his relationship with Emma.
Chad Hartigan's direction of Little Fish is right down the middle; there's nothing ostentation nor is there anything that's cringeworthy. The magic of the film lies in its editing, telling two simultaneous stories of the rise and fall of Emma and Jude as Emma narrates her thoughts to the audience. The intercutting between the two stories flows naturally and is used cleverly to obfuscate details, set up future uncertainty, and hide reveals. Mattson Tomlin, who wrote last year's Project Power and is an uncredited writer for Matt Reeves' The Batman, proves to be the weakest link in this project, as the story takes the safe route in dipping its toe in the vast pool that is exploring grief and mental decline. What starts as a promising concept falls a bit short in terms of its overall execution.
Overall, Little Fish is an emotionally engaging story about love and loss, even though it shies away from grief or the processing of grief. There's heavier elements that could've been mined from the concept that might've lead to a more weighty, fuller project, but as is the story is serviceable. Regardless, the characters and the performances of Cooke and O'Connell elevate this slightly from what could've been a pedestrian attempt to something a bit more substantial. The overt parallels to dementia are clear, but the story chooses to focus more on Emma's hope rather than Jude's decline. With a clever beginning and end that leaves the audience gut punched, Little Fish is worth a watch for the performances and chemistry between Cooke and O'Connell as they battle Jude's affliction in their own separate ways. Little Fish hits theaters Friday, February 5th.
