"When your disaster is everyone's disaster... how do you grieve?"

What is more worth remembering than the people we love? Without those memories... without our experiences and observations and biases and pasts and dreams of our futures... who are we? Could we learn to love again and would it -- would we -- be the same if we did?

Seemingly derived from that strange and ethereal place that our deepest, most inexplicably profound emotions live, there isn't a scene in Fish that doesn't leave you laughing, loving, and hurting right alongside your new friends on the screen. With a score as emotive as the characters themselves, I wish half the movies I watched were half this effective.

Fueled by vulnerable performances, masterful editing, and intimate cinematography; the joys of love truly and deeply accepted -- and the losses that may lurk not far behind -- are felt as though we, ourselves, are Emma and Jude.

A film with more to say than most, Little Fish is a deeply profound look at what it means to love, not from without, but from within. An amazingly intuitive and painful look into love lost, found, kindled, kept, and fought for, Fish will leave you gasping for air and grasping for your someone.

"I was so sad the day I met you..."