Olivia Newman on Bringing Remarkably Bright Creatures to Life Through Emotion and an Octopus Named Marcellus

Watch the full conversation below.

Adapting a beloved novel for the screen always comes with a unique balancing act, but for filmmaker Olivia Newman, Remarkably Bright Creatures presented a particularly delicate challenge. The film needed to preserve the emotional intimacy and grounded humanity of the original story while also embracing the quietly magical presence of Marcellus, the observant octopus whose perspective threads through the narrative.

One of the defining elements of Remarkably Bright Creatures is the way it blends realism with gentle fantasy. For Newman, maintaining emotional authenticity was always the priority.

“It was always important to us that the story feel grounded in a real place, in the experiences of real human beings that you could relate to and sort of see yourself in.”

Even with an octopus serving as narrator, Newman never wanted audiences to feel separated from the emotional reality of the story. Instead, Marcellus becomes another lens through which to examine human behavior and connection.

“We wanted it to feel like they were all of one world and that he just happens to be narrating.”

That philosophy guided the entire approach to creating Marcellus on screen. Rather than leaning into overt fantasy, the filmmakers aimed for photorealism, something Newman admits became unexpectedly challenging.

“The closer you got to real, the weirder he actually looks.”

The result is a version of Marcellus that feels both alien and believable, existing naturally within the emotional landscape of the film instead of distracting from it.

At the same time, Newman emphasized that the film remains firmly anchored through Tova, played by Sally Field.

“The film is really anchored with Tova. We spend the most time with her navigating her world.”

Newman repeatedly returned to the idea of emotional space framing, movement, and repetition to externalize grief and emotional stagnation.

Tova’s routines become visual cycles: avoiding certain rooms in the house, visiting the aquarium late at night to avoid people, and standing alone on the pier searching for answers she knows she may never find.

“You really see how much she’s been stuck at this certain time point from several years ago.”

Newman described carefully designing moments where the audience could experience Tova’s internal emotional state through imagery. Brief flashbacks, imagined memories, and even the “ghost” of her son Eric appearing in her mind’s eye helped visualize the persistence of grief.

The film’s visual language evolves as Tova herself begins to change. Early scenes emphasize how small and isolated she feels within expansive spaces. Later, the camera physically moves closer to her as she begins reconnecting with the world around her.

“When we find her in the beginning, it’s really more about how small she feels and this giant mystery that surrounds her.”

By the film’s end, Newman intentionally frames Tova more intimately, reflecting her emotional openness and reconnection to other people.

While Tova’s world is built around stillness and control, Cameron, played by Lewis Pullman enters the story as pure disruption.

“He is absolutely this force to be reckoned with. He’s a mess of a person.”

Newman explained that this contrast influenced every aspect of the cinematography. Tova’s scenes are often static and carefully composed, while Cameron’s are more kinetic and restless.

“With Cameron, it’s the opposite, active frames and moving cameras.”

As the two characters begin influencing one another emotionally, the visual language gradually starts to merge as well. Newman described designing visual “answers and responses” between their separate scenes to show how deeply interconnected they become even before they fully realize it themselves.

Music plays an important role in Cameron’s emotional arc, particularly during the scenes where he performs. Newman revealed that the choice of Radiohead was deeply intentional.

The music bridges Cameron’s past with his present, connecting his relationship with his absent mother to the heavier sound of the band he later forms.

“That particular album is really like a precursor to that kind of music.”

Newman was especially interested in how the same song could communicate completely differently depending on perspective. To Cameron, the lyrics hold deep emotional meaning. To Tova, overwhelmed by the sound itself, the emotional truth comes through in an entirely different way.

The performance sequence also became central to Cameron’s personal growth. Newman and Pullman worked carefully on shaping the progression from uncertainty to emotional release.

“When he finally finds his footing and he just kind of lets go of self-consciousness, he’s really able to express himself.”

One of the film’s greatest strengths is how organically its emotional turning points unfold. Newman explained that she never wanted audiences to feel like there was one singular “breakthrough scene.”

“The hope is that you don’t watch the film and suddenly say, ‘Well this is the scene where this big turning point has happened.’”

Instead, transformation comes through accumulation: hearing a song differently, witnessing someone’s disappointment, recognizing shared loneliness, or simply noticing a look in someone’s eyes.

Many of these discoveries emerged organically during filming and editing.

“Sometimes you realize so much is happening in a look that you don’t need the dialogue.”

That subtle emotional pacing extends to the film’s exploration of avoidance and vulnerability. Both Tova and Cameron spend much of the story focusing on other people’s problems because confronting their own pain feels too overwhelming. And yet, it is through each other that they both finally break through in their own ways.

Q&A on the film Remarkably Bright Creatures with director & co-writer Olivia Newman. Moderated by Mara Webster.