What The Octopus Said

Throughout history humans have tended to cast the animals with which we share this planet as the foil to ourselves  — our consciousness, our physicality, even our morality and ethics. In fables, fiction, science, and our own homes, the quest to understand the Earth’s creatures is often interwoven with the quest to know ourselves.

The Netflix documentary My Octopus Teacher offers a moving illustration of this entwined exploration. The documentarian, Craig Foster, is a burnt-out filmmaker chronicling his attempts to rebalance his life. His recovery begins with a return to his childhood passion, exploring the ocean and kelp forest near his home in South Africa. Forgoing a wet suit and scuba tank, he instead snorkels the chill waters as an amphibian would, skin exposed (save for a pair of diving shorts), sustained by oxygen gulped each time he surfaces. As he explores the technicolor world of sea anemones, bioluminescent jelly fish, striped pajama sharks, and a myriad of fantastical creatures great and small, his powers of observation sharpen. The native curiosity that first led him to filmmaking reawakens.

Early on, he encounters a common octopus (Octopus vulgaris) and turns his eye, and the camera’s, to an intimate and visually lush inquiry into the octopod’s life. As he returns, day after day, patiently observing this shy animal’s existence, trust blossoms and a bond forms. Remarkably, the octopus appears to display affection, cuddling against the filmmaker’s chest and perching on his hand.

But the film quickly evolves beyond these sweet exchanges to a dramatic depiction of the hero’s journey at octopus-scale. Epic battles erupt between prey and predator, obstacles are overcome, resources and talents are discovered on-the-fly, and lyrical moments of play and celebration transpire. It’s impossible not to root for this fluid, elegant being as she narrowly escapes being devoured, or feel tenderness as she suckers the filmmaker’s goggles and clasps his outstretched fingers.

The film is also a study in solitude. Except for a brief mating period and the “friendship” shared with the filmmaker, the octopus is a true loner. And yet, and here I may be guilty of anthropomorphizing, she seems entirely content, delighting in her own existence as she glides through the water, matching the filmmaker’s curiosity with her own, and engaging in fierce and creative self-advocacy when necessary. There is no doubt that this creature values her life and is fully engaged in each moment.

And — spoiler alert — after eliciting wonder, admiration, and even love in the filmmaker (and in this viewer), the octopus dies a violent “red in tooth and claw” death. The film’s awful climax is also a completely ordinary, predictable event in the life cycle of the octopus and the mysterious world of the kelp forest. Yet, I was grief-stricken. I irrationally expected a different ending, for nature to be other than itself.

So what is the lesson of this octopus teacher? The existential curriculum is so fundamental that I imagine the meaning-making might be as unique to each of us as a fingerprint.

For me, it lies at the point of my grief and the watery depths of my enchantment with this wild, solitary animal. Like many, I struggle with terminal busyness. Not even the pandemic has slowed my compulsive tasking. There’s always the manuscript to tweak, project to plan, or chore to accomplish. Rarely do I allow myself the luxury of an agenda-free day. The meandering walk, the idle contemplation on a bench in Washington Square Park, the quiet reexamination of my own bookshelf — these moments dangle in a hazy tomorrow that never quite arrives. I’m left with the nagging sense that I’m missing something important and ineffable, something precious yet necessary. I’m missing the ocean for swimming in it.

But now the octopus is my teacher too, inspiring me to glide through my environment, to encounter the world with open curiosity, to notice what’s happening here and now, to delight in the miracle of simply being alive — a worthy quest which this two-legged animal gladly accepts.