Scarlett Johansson is no stranger to complex characters and emotionally charged narratives, but her latest film might just be her most surprising yet.

Known for her range—from action-packed blockbusters to award-winning dramas—Johansson now turns her attention to a smaller, offbeat indie project that is equal parts comedic, heart-wrenching, and delightfully absurd.

Titled Brined, the film explores the evolution of a friendship founded on deception and the unexpectedly deep metaphorical power of pickles.

At a recent press conference for the Toronto International Film Festival, Johansson shared insight into the project, which she also co-produced. Dressed casually and seated comfortably among fellow cast members, she laughed when asked about the film’s peculiar premise.

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud,” she admitted. “But that’s kind of the point. It’s a ridiculous situation that reveals something very real about human connection.”

In Brined, Johansson plays Lydia, a socially anxious food chemist who accidentally introduces herself under a false name during a pickle-tasting event. She’s just gone through a breakup, she’s emotionally vulnerable, and for a moment, she becomes someone else—literally.

Her new friend, Nora, played by British actress Phoebe Dynevor, is immediately captivated by Lydia’s quirky charisma and invites her into a world of homemade fermentation, local markets, and budding friendship. What begins as a harmless white lie spirals into a full-blown identity crisis as the friendship deepens and the truth becomes harder to tell.

Johansson described Lydia as a character who “uses dishonesty as a shield” but is ultimately craving authentic connection. “I think we’ve all had moments where we wanted to be someone else, even briefly,” she said.

“Lydia just happened to find someone who loved that version of her. The real challenge was figuring out if she could be loved for who she actually is.” The film captures this internal struggle with subtlety, weaving comedy and melancholy into a story that feels both grounded and strangely whimsical.

Director Elise Tran, known for her minimalist visual style and intimate storytelling, approached the narrative with a light hand, letting the characters breathe and the humor come naturally.

The decision to center the story around pickling was her idea. “Pickles are complicated,” Tran said during the same press event. “They’re transformed by pressure and time.

They’re sour, sometimes sweet, and always a little weird. That’s what Lydia and Nora’s friendship is. And honestly, who doesn’t have a jar of unresolved emotions on the back shelf of their fridge?”

Pickles may sound like a quirky narrative hook, but in Brined, they take on a surprisingly symbolic role. The two characters bond over their shared love for fermentation, leading to late-night kitchen experiments, failed cucumber batches, and one unforgettable scene involving a fire alarm and a bathtub full of brine.

Yet beneath the laughter is a tender meditation on identity—how we preserve certain versions of ourselves to be more palatable to others, and how, over time, the real self begins to seep through.

Johansson, who has been candid in past interviews about navigating fame and the public perception of her own identity, found the metaphor resonant.

“There’s definitely a part of me that understood Lydia’s desire to be someone more exciting, more ‘digestible,’” she said. “But I also think the film is about the moment you realize that the real you—warts, weirdness, and all—is worth showing up for.”

The chemistry between Johansson and Dynevor is palpable on screen, with critics praising their dynamic as “oddly addictive” and “emotionally nuanced.” Their friendship unfolds with a kind of quiet magic, punctuated by confessions, laughter, and the occasional kitchen disaster.

As the lie grows harder to maintain, so too does the illusion of emotional safety. The inevitable moment of truth arrives not with melodrama, but with raw vulnerability—and a shared jar of pickled beets.

While the film avoids traditional genre labels, its strength lies in its refusal to be easily categorized. It’s not quite a comedy, not entirely a drama, and certainly not a romance—though the emotional intimacy between the two women often mirrors the rhythms of a love story. It is, at its core, about the human need for connection and the quiet tragedy of hiding in plain sight.

Johansson said one of the most challenging aspects of the role was playing a character who is constantly performing. “It’s exhausting to lie, even in fiction,” she explained. “There’s this tension that builds under every interaction, this fear that one word, one slip, will unravel everything. And as an actor, that’s both fascinating and incredibly draining to live in.”

The film’s emotional climax is understated but deeply affecting. After the truth comes out, the question isn’t whether the friendship can survive—it’s whether it was ever real to begin with. The answer, according to Johansson, is more complicated than it seems.

“Just because something started with a lie doesn’t mean everything about it was false,” she said. “Sometimes, people connect in ways that transcend the circumstances. And the journey from pretending to authenticity can be one of the most powerful things we go through.”

Following the film’s premiere, Brined has already begun generating buzz among indie circles, with early reviews highlighting its originality, emotional resonance, and unexpected warmth.

Audiences have taken to social media praising the film’s honesty and humor, especially in how it tackles the messiness of modern friendship. Some have even reported feeling an unexpected craving for pickles after watching it.

Beyond the critical praise, Johansson hopes the film sparks conversations about the masks we wear and the fear of being truly seen. “We all have our brined selves—the parts we’ve tucked away, preserved, altered to survive. This film asks what happens when we open the jar and let someone else take a taste.”

When asked whether she’s become a fan of pickling in real life, Johansson laughed and admitted, “Let’s just say I know a lot more about fermentation than I did a year ago. And yes, my fridge now has more than just pickles—it has stories.”

As Johansson continues to evolve as both an actress and producer, Brined stands out as a passion project that blends her talent for deep emotional expression with a touch of playful absurdity. It’s a film about contradictions—how something sour can be sweet, how lies can lead to truth, and how sometimes, the best way to find yourself is to get lost in someone else.

For a film that began with a simple lie and a shared love for pickles, Brined offers something unexpectedly profound: a reminder that friendship, in all its messy, briny glory, is worth fighting for—even when it starts in the most unlikely of places.