Runtime: 2 hours, 3 minutes
Rating: R
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Quick Impressions:
I envy Guillermo del Toro’s control, his discipline when crafting a cinematic fairy tale. Grand, Gothic stories that delve deep into the darker emotions of complex characters can so easily become sprawling behemoths. I think if I were the one in charge, a story like The Shape of Water would quickly become in charge of me.
To borrow a memorable image from the film, Richard Jenkins would open the bathroom door, and the entire movie would come rushing out, and everyone would drown, all the characters, the extras, the audience, even me.
I am capable of creating something so immense, but del Toro not only creates it, he controls it with such admirable artistry. The film is so visually rich, so intimately intricate and yet simultaneously so lavish in its exploration of the human condition. It’s like a Faberge egg with a plot. And an Oscar-caliber cast.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I really liked The Shape of Water. It’s just as good as Three Billboards (which is probably still my favorite of the year), but a completely different kind of movie. It’s like Amélie Meets The Creature From the Black Lagoon Meets Michael Shannon Doing a PSA on Workplace Harassment.
The Good:
The film has the enchanting storybook quality you often get with Wes Anderson movies, but The Shape of Water is offered quite earnestly without that kind of tongue-in-cheek self awareness that always marks Anderson’s movies.
Richard Jenkins provides excellent narration that works with the captivating and unusual opening visuals to establish tone (and even genre) very quickly. From these early moments, I knew exactly the kind of story I was being told. For me, the only difficult part was figuring out the exact setting, time and place. Both Eliza and Giles live apart from their times to a degree. (Plus “the last days of a prince” line in the opening narration confused me. Is the Doug Jones character the prince? For a while I wondered if it took place right before the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1952. But the confusion doesn’t drag on forever. Eventually other clues let us know it’s the mid-1960s.)
As perfectly played by Sally Hawkins, the lead character Eliza often seems like she’s living in a different movie all her own. (In fact, a late scene basically confirms this impression). So the supporting characters who gather around Eliza actually guide us through The Shape of Water. Both Richard Jenkins and Octavia Spencer win our hearts fairly easily and effortlessly keep them until the end. Michael Shannon, meanwhile, plays such an alluring villain. I find it interesting that all of the characters we care about are marginalized by their society—an African American woman, a gay man of a certain age, and another character I can’t describe without getting a bit spoilery. Their voices tell us the story since Eliza is mute.
They’re all drawn to Eliza because she has a captivating purity of heart. Also, her silence makes her an ideal sounding board. It is easy to find her endearing, to want to protect her because she is always there to listen (or, at least, even when she’s daydreaming instead of listening, she doesn’t interrupt). Eliza’s muteness tends to draw out the people around her, revealing more of their inner natures to us (and perhaps to them, too). Around Eliza, every other character is revealed more fully. Her superpower is allowing people to listen to themselves, thus revealing to them who they really are. In many cases, they love her because she reflects back their own good qualities. And often, I’d imagine, the positive characteristic others cherish most in her is actually their own most positive trait reflected back at them. So around Eliza, Michael Shannon’s character emerges as even more of a monster. And he likes that. So that’s really scary.
As Eliza falls increasingly in love, she loses focus more and more on the “real” world around her. Fortunately she is able to continue succeeding for so long because her friends are terribly devoted to her and her enemy is fixated on her, too. (One thing about a narcissist with a crush. Every time he sees his love object, he’ll just see the image of his true love reflected back at him, which, fortunately, is narcissist Kryptonite.)
All of the lead performers seem essentially typecast (which made sense when I later learned del Toro wrote most of these parts especially for these actors), but they are typecast so flagrantly and unabashedly that savoring the results feels like a guilty pleasure we’ve been specially invited to enjoy. It’s like an inside joke the audience is in on. (Honestly there are lots of actual jokes about this. At one point someone pointedly denounces Octavia Spencer as the help, for example.)
Speaking of Octavia Spencer, as fellow cleaning woman and confidante Zelda Delilah Fuller, she gives what is so far my favorite performance by a supporting actress this year (meaning 2017). I’d like to see her win the Oscar. She’s probably my favorite character in the film.
Also fabulous, though, is Richard Jenkins as the protagonist’s only friend away from work. Despite how much I’m rooting for Sam Rockwell, I would honestly be so pleased if Jenkins won an Oscar for this, too.
But you know what? Michael Shannon is also great. What a psycho! In many ways, his role is the most memorable one of the movie. My son is two-and-a-half right now and working on potty training, so I’m totally conscious of toilet etiquette for men and feel Shannon’s character provides such a clear example of what not to do in the bathroom…or in life. Everybody who comes in contact with this guy is immediately gifted with the perfect #MeToo story, just waiting to be tweeted.
I honestly can’t get any aspect of Shannon’s performance out of my head. He makes such a strong impression as a man who comes across as weak (and sociopathic) pretending to be strong (and sociopathic). He’s not really trying to hide his sociopathic tendencies or his bloody cattle prod thing or his penis. I hope no one like him ever pees near me. He makes all the guys in The Wolf of Wall Street look so sweet like someone you’d want to take your daughter to the prom. I loved the performance.
Really, it’s such a coupe by del Toro to write such compelling characters and then find the perfect actors to portray them.
I’ve loved Sally Hawkins for a long time, and she’s absolutely fantastic as Eliza. It is not easy to deliver such an emotive and compelling performance while mute. I’m sure she’ll be getting a much deserved Best Actress nomination, too.
And fans of Hellboy will recognize Doug Jones who also gives a strong (though easily overlooked) turn as the guy in the tank.
Michael Stuhlbarg is also fantastic as an increasingly sympathetic character who late in the movie comes up with a potential method of self-defense so endearingly naïve and inadequate.
So basically the entire cast is good. All the characters are well written and superbly acted. But then, in almost Dickensian fashion, the settings–the buildings, rooms, furniture, and even food–are sort of like characters, too.
How could this movie not win an Oscar for production design? Well, I mean, I’m sure it has plenty of competition. (It’s really funny that in the same year we get Beauty and the Beast competing for awards against this variation on Beauty and the Beast.) But the sets are so amazing, so visually rich, so much visual symbolism.
In general, the film is absolutely replete with symbolism–symbolic imagery, allusions, motifs. It’s amazing to me how much (often visual) metaphor del Toro can pack into the piece. In terms of visual richness, it sort of reminds me of The Great Beauty, that Italian Best Foreign Film winner a few years ago. There is just so much going on, so much to look at, so many layers of meaning. At times, it’s overwhelming. (Now admittedly, I’m not much of a visual thinker and easily find myself experiencing moments of sensory overload. But, personally, I think The Shape of Water almost requires more than one viewing simply because everything we see in the film seems to be screaming out a whole story all its own.)
Best Scene Visually:
I’m a huge fan of all the eggs, and the bit with the egg timer at the beginning made me gasp out in delight with anticipation. That probably sounds weird, but I just loved the symbolic significance of it all. I mean, this simultaneously shows us that everything in Eliza’s life is lonely and runs on a clock and at the same time foreshadows that something significant will soon happen to her eggs.
I also love the scene in the movie theater featuring The Story of Ruth (the later scene). My mother’s favorite movie is The Story of Ruth. (Well, technically, it’s tied with The Maltese Falcon, Pollyanna, and Snow White.) She’s crazy about that movie, so we watched it all the time when I was growing up. Until now, I’ve never seen it referenced in popular culture. So just the nod it gets thrilled me. But I also think it looks great splashed up on the screen in that amazing theater. And also, the symbolism! The amazing allusion!
Are these really the best scenes visually? Well no. In this film, though, every scene is the best scene visually, so take your pick. I also love that refrigerator full of “lime” pie, the green Jello, the “teal” car…
Best Action Sequence:
Late in the movie, there’s a scene where someone commits an act of shocking, gruesome violence against himself. Watching, I was like, “Whatever.” But then when I thought another character was in peril, I thought, If this person dies, I swear I will hate this movie forever. My point is, I was deeply invested emotionally.
Another great action sequence is the escape from the lab.
Best Scene:
I kind of like that scene in the men’s room. It establishes Richard Strickland’s character so quickly. In fact, it gives a fair amount of insight into each woman present, as well.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Sally Hawkins:
The moment when Eliza becomes hysterical with desperation and tells her friend what a new friend’s well being means to her is very moving and seems perfect for an awards show clip.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Octavia Spencer:
There’s this moment during the escape from the lab when we get to look at Spencer’s face as Zelda grows increasingly worried about what Eliza is up to. Yes, her part is funny and the character is so likable, but this moment beautifully showcases her acting talent and elevates the entire performance.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Richard Jenkins:
That cringe-inducing scene in the diner nearly killed me. You anticipate and dread this moment for so long, and then it comes.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Michael Shannon:
Shannon plays such an awful character that even moments that would humanize an ordinary villain just make us hate him more. When he gets dressed down by General Hoyt late in the movie, I thought, Ah, I see, and then very quickly, Yeah, I don’t care. Shannon’s performance builds as the movie goes on. He basically announces exactly who and what he is in that early scene in the restroom, and as the story progresses, he starts to look like a character study in what happens when someone weak and self-centered is given a position of power that requires strength and competence.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Michael Stuhlbarg:
Stuhlbarg seems like a huge long-shot for a nomination but only because in this film alone, Jenkins and Shannon have showier parts. Still, he’s really good. All of his character’s actions reveal his true nature. I can’t believe his wily plan to save himself during the cake scene. It’s so sad and sweet. It’s like a kid on the playground seeing an entire pack of bullies advancing and yelling that he knows karate, thinking that he’s being really clever.
Also before I forget, I loved Alexandre Desplat’s score. It’s been my favorite score so far this year. I hope it wins an Oscar. (I feel like I’ve said that before, so maybe I just love music?)
The Negatives:
When Pan’s Labyrinth came out, a friend and I had a fundamental disagreement about how to interpret the ending. She was like, “But this was the transcendent, true, beautiful reality,” and I was like, “Um. Okay. But in the real world, a [redacted] is [withheld].” (I don’t want to spoil Pan’s Labyrinth if you haven’t seen it.)
I feel like a similar situation is happening here (though this time, it seems a lot easier to believe the “magical” ending since what we see in “reality” is already so strange and full of magic). It works. It’s just…
I guess what I’m saying here is that I really don’t like the ending of Pan’s Labyrinth. I guess I just find it so distressing that I’m still complaining about it years’ later in a review of a different film.
The biggest problem with the movie I’m currently reviewing is that I feel like it’s supersaturated with visual imagery and requires a second viewing. The Doug Jones character, in particular, sort of disappears. I feel like I lose his performance in the midst of all the other stuff that’s going on. I’m used to watching humans interact, so I forget to be watching him.
The part with Pandora is strange. It reveals a lot about Richard Jenkins’s character. (My husband had some really interesting stuff to say here). But it seems to muddy the waters a bit about Fish Guy.
Also, the movie kept reminding me of E.T. (But I love, E.T., so that’s not really a negative, either). I do wish, though, that this movie were more child-friendly. It’s such a good film, but it is rated R for good reason. I wish a G-rated version could exist somehow.
I’m not sure that I liked the big musical number near the end, but I’m not sure why. It seems like the culmination of a character arc and a natural way to reveal internalized emotions. And it doesn’t exactly come from nowhere. I’m just not sure that I liked it.
Overall:
The Shape of Water is a great film that works on all levels and is a pleasure to watch. I would be happy to see it win a bunch of Oscars. I’m excited to see how it does at the Golden Globes tonight.