My Octopus Teacher by Craig Foster

The documentary My Octopus Teacher is one of the most unique films I have seen in the past decade, if not my entire life. At its core, the film is about relationships. Not just between a man and an octopus, but between a human being and the natural world he had quietly drifted away from. Directed by Craig Foster, the film begins as a personal reset. Burned out and disconnected, Foster turns back to the sea near his home in South Africa, a place that once grounded him. What follows feels almost impossible. Through patience, repetition, and respect, he slowly builds trust with a wild octopus. Watching that connection form feels less like observation and more like witnessing first contact. It is intimate, strange, and deeply human.

What also makes the film so powerful, and almost hypnotic, is the narration and storytelling itself. Craig Foster has a way of telling this story that allows you to completely disappear inside it. There is no sense of performance or over-explanation, only reflection. For anyone who works in documentary filmmaking, this is the magic sauce. The ability to guide an audience through a deeply personal experience with a fluidity of conversation that you'd have with someone you've known forever. I have long admired and aspired to that kind of fluid, honest storytelling, and Foster assembles his narrative with a quiet confidence that feels nearly seamless. The story unfolds naturally, like a conversation rather than a script.

The film then pulls us beneath the surface into a daily ritual of free diving in the frigid waters of False Bay. I know this environment well. I lived in central California for nearly a decade and spent years swimming and diving in the cold Pacific among kelp forests. That water is unforgiving. The idea that Foster committed himself to these dives every single day, without a wetsuit, purely to observe and learn, speaks volumes about his dedication. That commitment pays off in astonishing ways. The footage reveals an intelligence and awareness in the octopus that challenges how we think about sea life altogether. Its ability to camouflage, problem solve, and interact with its environment forces uncomfortable questions about consciousness and our relationship to the creatures we so casually consume.

By the end of My Octopus Teacher, you are no longer just watching Craig Foster’s relationship with the octopus. You have developed one yourself. The octopus becomes a presence, almost like family, and when nature inevitably cycles through life and death, the loss feels real. What lingers is not sadness, but curiosity. A feeling that maybe we can be more connected to the natural world than we allow ourselves to be. My Octopus Teacher is not simply a nature documentary. It is a reminder that wonder still exists, and that sometimes the most profound relationships are waiting just beneath the surface.