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Big Blue (or Big Blue – A Fishy Tale) is a shaggy, slapdash piece of moviemaking that somehow manages to charm you in spite of its own absurdities. It’s a scrappy, homemade concoction from Kris Hallesy and Matthew Aird, and while it’s often messy, its wild-eyed spirit gives it a kind of crooked appeal. The story, such as it is, revolves around Billy (Verne Graham) and Jesse (Aird), two overgrown kids who head out on a fishing trip to capture Billy’s white whale—a fish as bloated and ridiculous as his childhood fears. The setup is simple, but the film is more interested in spinning its goofy yarn than in delivering any real narrative punch. And that’s not a bad thing.
This is the kind of movie where the plot doesn’t matter. It’s all about the tangents, the detours, the ridiculous moments that Billy and Jesse stumble through, as if they were still figuring out the script as they went along. There’s an appealing looseness to the way it’s structured—like a series of comic sketches barely held together by the fishing rod they’re chasing after. Verne Graham plays Billy with a kind of guileless sincerity, while Aird’s Jesse acts as the perfect foil, a laid-back goofball who’s in it for the ride. Their dynamic has a lived-in warmth that saves the film from collapsing under its own silliness.
Hallesy and Aird know exactly what they’re making here: a half-baked fable about friendship and boyish dreams. They don’t overreach, and there’s something refreshing about a film that doesn’t pretend to be more than what it is. Big Blue doesn’t aim for profundity or even coherence—it’s content to be a funny, rambling adventure that leaves logic floundering in the wake. There are moments of pure absurdist joy, like when the duo stumbles upon a campsite filled with characters who feel pulled straight out of a backwoods cartoon. In these moments, you get the sense that Hallesy and Aird are having too much fun to care whether we’re fully on board—and that’s what makes the movie work.
The film’s soundtrack, filled with tracks from Vicious Kitty and a handful of other offbeat bands, gives the whole thing a jolt of electric energy. The music is as scrappy and loud as the film itself, and it lends the story a certain rebellious, DIY charm. You can feel the filmmakers’ love for their own messy creation in every chord of Treat Me Right or Cow Trippin’, as if the music is urging the characters—and the audience—to just go along for the ride.
Is the film polished? Hardly. But the rough edges are part of the charm. It’s a scruffy little passion project, more interested in having a good time than in worrying about whether the seams are showing. And yes, there are moments when the seams come apart, when the film veers off track or loses momentum, but that rawness is exactly what gives Big Blue its quirky appeal. It’s a love letter to the adventures that never quite go as planned, to the friendships that hold you together even when everything else falls apart.
In the end, Big Blue isn’t really about catching a fish—it’s about chasing after the big, ridiculous dreams that keep us feeling young, even when we know better. There’s a sweetness buried in the chaos, a sense of innocence that lingers long after the credits roll. It’s an imperfect movie, but one that feels so lovingly made that you can’t help but smile at its rough, heartfelt edges.
Samuel Pratt