House Of The Dragon's Olivia Cooke Starred In A Great Sci-Fi Movie That Flew Under The Radar

I'm always a little sad and bitter when I see an ambitious, powerful film not get its due, especially when the reason is out of the filmmakers' control. Chad Hartigan's heart-breaking sci-fi romance, 2020's "Little Fish," qualifies as one of those movies. It's somewhat ironic that Hartigan's indie has become a victim of the COVID-19 pandemic (and its blow that devastated the cinema landscape at large for several years) since its story is precisely about another (fictional) pandemic that rapidly robs people of their memories.

Based on Aja Gabel's 2011 short story of the same name, "Little Fish" takes place in the near future and tells the love story of a young couple, Emma (Olivia Cooke) and Jude (Jack O'Connell), as they face a global virus called Neuroinflammatory Affliction (a fictional disease rooted in real conditions such as Alzheimer's, which may be reversible) together. Although NIA is a worldwide pandemic (and you see various signs of that scattered throughout the movie), Hartigan almost exclusively focuses on how it affects Emma and Jude's relationship after the latter gets diagnosed with it.

Since there's no known cure, they're both aware that this affliction will inevitably destroy their relationship, but they nevertheless decide to fight against it until the last memory morsel that still connects them on some level. Jumping back and forth between various timelines on a regular basis, Hartigan effectively captures every stage of the couple's profound romance from their meet-cute to the complete deterioration of the two, practically becoming strangers to each other.

"Little Fish" is a heart-wrenchingly tragic tearjerker, but it's not just that. There's a profound humanity in Mattson Tomlin's screenplay that lends a hopefulness to the plot even when you're keenly aware that it'll end in utter sorrow and grief. The memories you get to relive alongside Jude and Emma in joyous and moving flashbacks elevate the premise's inherent depression, channeling a pureness of love and affection that feels like balm for the soul. As Emma argues at one point, memories can disappear, but you can't forget feelings. "Little Fish" encapsulates that notion with beautiful intimacy and gentleness without forgetting that the harsh reality of the disease will inevitably set in at one point, delivering a crushing blow to the protagonists and viewers.

O'Connell and Cooke's chemistry is simply staggering, giving the kind of electrifying and memorable love affair that made "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" such an immortal classic. Yet Emma and Jude's bond somehow feels even more relatable and within reach than Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet's did in Michel Gondry's masterpiece. The pair transcends their roles as two people who found one another because they were meant for each other.

But to sell such a poignant, emotionally potent movie that evidently hit so close to home at the time of its release (in addition to thousands of theaters being closed down temporarily or for good) turned out to be a near-impossible task. Unsurprisingly, "Little Fish" only made $39,000 and change at the box office worldwide. But, and I can't press this enough, if there are any movies out there that got buried and crushed by the pandemic deserving of a rediscovery, Hartigan's indie drama is undoubtedly one of them.