Rating: R
Runtime: 1 hour, 57 minutes
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Quick Impressions:
My husband has lost eighty pounds since April. On the way home from the theater, I said to him, “That was probably like a horror movie for you.”
He said, “It hit pretty close to home—probably for you, too.”
And I gasped in horror, “You think I am going bald?”
He was like, “What?! No! I mean because he’s always talking about how writers have to be brutally honest!”
Perhaps I have been monomaniacally monologuing about that lately. (But I’m also worried that my hair looks thinner, and Brendan Fraser’s hairline through the whole film made me deeply uncomfortable.) (I was keeping an eye out for gray hair. It never occurred to me I might run out of hair! It’s not falling out. I’m just worried maybe it’s not growing in.) (But the severity of the problem changes throughout the day, so it may be related to mood.)
My husband’s had a weight problem his entire life. It has caused him immense trauma and shaped his life in many ways. I’ve had a weight problem my entire adult life. I’ve been gaining and losing the same thirty pounds for decades. (What’s scary is that since eighth grade, my weight has increased by over one-hundred pounds, while my height has increased by just half an inch.)
I remember thinking, “There are advantages to being fat. I have no vanity about my body, so pregnancy will be no big deal. I can’t possibly look worse.” Well, I was wrong. After giving birth to my son, my belly never went away. I only gained twenty pounds. And then the year after he was born, I lost thirty. It didn’t matter. I always look pregnant (to the point that strangers feel comfortable pleasantly remarking on it because they’re so sure). At first, this was very distressing, especially because when I lay on my belly, it felt like I was lying on an object (I guess because of the c-section). I freaked out about it, feeling like, “This isn’t my body!”
My husband said on the way home, “I always worry about dying of a heart attack in the house. I imagine myself forcing myself to walk down the stairs and out the door, so I can die on the porch, and nobody has to worry about moving me out of the house.”
I countered, “If you have a heart attack, lie still and focus on not dying, and I will call the paramedics, and they can stabilize you inside the house.”
This entire film is about a man with a severe weight problem who is dying of congestive heart failure in his house. He never leaves the house. The weight is (in large part) the focus of the movie. So, if you feel triggered by this or unduly uncomfortable with the subject matter, then just don’t watch it. (But honestly, I feel Darren Aronofsky’s name is enough of a hint that, “Hmm. Maybe this movie will make me feel uncomfortable.”)
The Good:
One thing about extreme obesity—nobody wants to see it, and few people have questions about it.
If an audience learns a character shot himself, the usual response is, “Why?” Or if he drank himself to death, you usually would wonder, “Why?”
But if someone eats himself to death, the more typical response is, “Eww.”
It’s a knee-jerk thing. People don’t mean to be cruel, but morbid obesity isn’t something we like to see, and often we subconsciously (or consciously) associate it with being extremely gross and disgusting (which is maybe kind of funny according to movies). (So often in film and TV, we get tropes of, “He’s violent because he’s traumatized/misunderstood.” “He drinks because he’s depressed. Something horrible happened to him.” But people eat because they’re just gross. Not in everything, of course, but a lot of movies that focus on someone being fat involve how that person made a transformation, got fit/thin, started doing “normal people” stuff.)
Honestly, I was (pleasantly) surprised that this character had issues beyond being fat, issues that contributed to his weight gain. (I mean, I’ve been fat for years, but it doesn’t bother me as much as you might think. Why? Simple. There’s tons of worse stuff going on with me that bothers me a lot more. And I’m sure it’s that way for a lot of people who struggle with their weight.) Refreshingly, this movie is not asking, “Why am I fat?” He knows exactly why he’s fat. Instead, it’s asking stuff like, “Can God love you if you’re gay?” “How much are we responsible for other people?” “Can we save anyone?” “Can anything be gained from self-punishment?” “After you throw away a person, is it too late?” “What does a parent owe a child?” “Can any of us face brutal honesty?” “Is honesty always necessary, always helpful?”
There’s always debate about body positivity, fat shaming, loving your body at any size, whether fat equals unhealthy. But what’s happening here isn’t really part of that. Charlie (Brendan Fraser) is not healthy by anyone’s standards. And he is not happy. He has deliberately gorged himself, and now he can’t walk without assistance, he’s in congestive heart failure, and he’s going to die in a few days (like for sure) because his blood pressure is insanely high, and he won’t go to the hospital to get any kind of treatment.
The more we learn about him, the sadder and sadder his story gets. This movie is more about a crisis in mental health care than it is about being fat. What Charlie is doing is slow suicide because of persistent depression (plus grief and tremendous guilt).
Watching all of his self-recriminating agony kind of reminds me of Michael Fassbender in the Steve McQueen movie Shame. There’s this part in Shame where the protagonist’s boss sleeps with his sister, and what makes him angry about it seems to be the idea that she has somehow exposed them both as being dirty. Charlie is deeply ashamed of what he’s done to himself. And it’s so heart-breaking that he hasn’t gotten any help up to this point. So now, I suppose, he’s not able to make better choices than the choices he’s making (which I relate to. When I know I should be doing better, and I still somehow can’t, despite trying my best, I get unbelievably frustrated with myself and ashamed of myself because I feel it will appear I’m not trying). Watching Charlie is sad, but it’s also extremely frustrating.
It’s a heavy story. (I didn’t even intend that as a joke.) There is humor in the movie. Something made me chuckle out loud, and I can’t remember now what it was. What I remember is that after I laughed, someone else in our row laughed, too. (It’s something kind of darkly, cynically humorous. One of those things that makes you worry, “Is it okay to laugh at this?”) This is not the feel-good movie of the year. (You might find the ending uplifting. I had a different reaction to it.) (It’s so much like the endings of The Wrestler and Black Swan. I started thinking, Is this a secret trilogy? But I know this is based on a stage play, so I don’t see how it can be.)
The ending of this movie made me so enraged, but the performances are excellent, especially those given by Brendan Fraser and Sadie Sink. (Our family loves Sadie Sink. I wish she were getting more Oscar buzz for this now that I’ve seen her performance. I think she’s great.)
Brendan Fraser deserves all the acclaim he’s been getting. It’s a wonderful performance, certainly a different kind of performance than I’ve ever seen from him before. I’m happy he’s making a comeback. Initially, I was sad my mother’s not alive to see this (because she always loved Brendan Fraser), but this movie would not have been for her, so I feel better about that now.
I love character driven stories, and this is a great set of characters. Most sympathetic is Liz (Hong Chau). Before even knowing her backstory, I felt like, “She’s the one telling the truth. I’m on her side. Of course, she is the one enabling him.” Then I learned her backstory and thought, “Okay, I forgive her for that. Her behavior makes more sense now.” Hands down, she’s the most sympathetic character. Of course, I’m Catholic, so initially, I did wonder, “Is that church really as bad as she’s saying?” Then with more information, I decided, “Yeah, good call. Stay the hell away from that church. I would, too, if I were you.” I’m not very familiar with Chau, but she has some excellent moments in this.
My second favorite character is Thomas (played by Ty Simpkins, who I’m very familiar with from Jurassic World and Iron Man: 3). I like him because he appears boring at first but eventually starts to seem like he was written by Flannery O’Connor. You wonder, “Is there a separate cross-over movie about him?” (My husband found his behavior near the end puzzling. But that’s because he did not grow up going to church at all. We’re Catholic now, but I grew up in the Independent Christian Church, and Thomas’s thinking totally makes sense within an Evangelical worldview. My husband speculated that possibly he intends harm. No.) (We have these discussions all the time. It always blows my mind how much programming he wasn’t given. I’m always lost in these inner labyrinths, trying to find a way to reconcile things I was taught with realities I’ve learned, and he just jumps straight from Point A to Point B, unaware there’s a maze.)
Sadie Sink is pretty electrifying. I have no idea why I haven’t heard buzz about her. (Probably because I haven’t been paying close attention.) Ellie’s character is probably the least surprising. She’s what you would expect under the circumstances. But Sink is so captivating in the role.
I didn’t know Samantha Morton was in the movie, so I was surprised to see her turn up. Her character is quite surprising, and much more sympathetic than I expected.
Brendan Fraser probably should win Best Actor, but I have no idea if he will. (I haven’t seen a lot of Best Actor contenders. And it’s confusing because I’m used to seeing high caliber performances from Colin Farrell and Paul Dano, but Fraser usually makes a completely different kind of movie. It’s hard not to judge him based on his own body of work, where something like this is a clear standout just because it’s so different. One thing about the performance in Fraser’s favor is that sometimes when actors who make popcorn flicks suddenly try to win an Oscar, they come across with this vibe of, “I’m acting so hard right now! Look at what a fine actor I am! I’m swelling with prestige.” He doesn’t come across this way at all. I went to the movie entirely because Brendan Fraser is having a career resurgence and winning all these awards, and while I watched, I hardly noticed Charlie was played by Brendan Fraser. I was thinking about the character. His performance is excellent, but the character enrages me. I have tremendous sympathy (and empathy) for him, but he’s so frustrating.
I think the film is pretty realistic, unflinching. My husband remarked on the relatability of a moment with a candy bar in the drawer. Personally, I do relate to the feeling of, “Well, I seem to be pretty fat still, so I guess I just might as well eat and not think about it.” I know trying on clothes always makes me want to go buy a pretzel. Weirdly, I don’t mind the way I look naked. It’s the clothes that never fit. I would probably be more comfortable if we all went naked because surely everyone would be so self-conscious, they wouldn’t notice me.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Brendan Fraser:
I think Fraser is best paired with Charlie’s ex-wife because he’s weirdly honest with her. The last thing Charlie says to her—when he bursts into tears and confesses, I mean—is not something he feels comfortable sharing quite as directly with anyone else. I kept wondering, “Why is Charlie—who is obsessed with honesty—able to be honest with ex-wife?” It’s like he doesn’t even quite want to admit it to himself. (Samantha Morton is a very generous scene partner.)
Best Scene:
Probably the film’s last scene is best. I have to say that because it makes me so enraged that I feel the movie is doing something very effective there. I mean, if I were writing an essay (or a haiku), I would spend some time unpacking that scene because it infuriates me.
Here’s why. Ellie is the child. Charlie is the parent. From Charlie’s point of view, this moment is so transcendent. Ellie’s going to have a different take. He’s so self-absorbed. He’s created the perfect moment—for him! His ex-wife, and Ellie, and Liz have at various times lectured him about being selfish (especially his ex-wife and Ellie). And at the end, I realized, “Oh they’re right. He is extremely selfish. Oh my God!”
I’m glad he loves his daughter. (At least, she makes him happy.) My husband and I felt exactly the same way about this. I see why Samantha Morton’s character is so exasperated when she leaves. (I’ll probably talk more about this in The Negatives section.)
The film probably couldn’t end any other way. You wouldn’t feel the “oomph” if something more mundane happened. So it’s magical for the protagonist, and it’s emotional for the audience, but what is it for Ellie? (This is what I hope to avoid doing to my children. I would rather be Steven Spielberg’s imperfect fictional mother saying, “You don’t owe anyone your life,” than whatever it is he’s doing.) There’s this “big reveal” moment, and the mother in me says, “No, that’s not enough. You’re making this all about you and what you need to feel instead of what she needs.” It’s very upsetting to me (probably because I’m worried every second of my life that I will do something like this).
It’s so upsetting. That’s why it’s good. (It still makes me so mad, though.) (And then the very end makes me think of Vecna jokes because his daughter is being played by Sadie Sink.)
Best Action Sequence:
I like the sequence just after the opening scene, the first scene in the house. I like the structure. Within a few minutes, we know what the entire movie is about. We know where it’s headed. We know many things that motivate the protagonist and some of the biggest obstacles he’s facing. And, if we’re like me, we’re so curious about Thomas, who clearly has a genuine desire to do good (unless, of course, he’s hiding a desire to do evil). He’s strongly motivated to continue interacting with Charlie. He becomes invested immediately, despite his discomfort. (Personally, it made me wonder, Why are you walking into this and staying? You get the idea that he’s either a very good person, or a very, very bad person. He seems to be a good person, but in any event, he’s not just going through the motions, or he would leave.) (Even a kind of good person might call 911 and leave. He’s clearly committed to actually helping. Why?)
Best Scene Visually:
My favorite scene in the movie is the payoff we get when the pizza delivery guy finally sticks around. Several scenes have built to establish him as a caring person. But when he catches a glimpse of Charlie, he cannot help his visceral reaction. Everything we know about him suggests he’s a kind-hearted person who has been vaguely worried about Charlie. He means well. But he clearly isn’t expecting what he sees, and he can’t hide that reaction.
The Negatives:
I realize that this character is deliberately eating himself to death out of guilt, self-loathing, depression, trauma—but I wish that movies would stop showing people with a weight problem binge eating buckets of fried chicken. It bothers me. I assure you that you can get perfectly obese without eating a bucket of fried chicken and two pizzas at a time. I do think the behavior is appropriate for this character. I’m just frustrated because we so rarely get a movie that focuses on an obese protagonist dealing with his weight and other issues (rather than preparing for a transformation/glow up). And I feel like if you watched this and didn’t have a weight problem, you might assume, “Ah yes, everyone overweight eats buckets of fried chicken at a time.” (This isn’t exactly a complaint about the movie. It’s more a complaint that so many Americans are obese, and we’re not very honest in our films about what causes this. If you were to go entirely by movies, you’d assume everyone who’s fat constantly eats entire buckets of fried chicken.) (That happens in the movie Precious, too.)
That’s more of a generalized complaint about obesity in movies. One year, I walked 20,000 steps every day and ate a Greek yogurt for breakfast and a bowl of plain spinach for lunch. That did not make me thin. The only time I’ve lost significant weight as an adult was when my daughter was very little because I did not want to take psychiatric medication while I was pumping for her. That turned out to be a horrible decision. But boy did those pounds melt off! You have to be mindful of diet and exercise, yes, but it’s not always eating buckets of fried chicken that makes people fat. It’s so much easier to get fat than that. (If you count calories and pay attention to nutritional information, you’ll see that you should never eat anything! It doesn’t take a whole bucket of fried chicken! One piece would do it!)
My only real complaint about the film is that Charlie just makes me so mad. I believe he’s a good English teacher. But despite his obsession with honesty, he is never completely honest with himself. He comes closest when he sobs out his motives to his ex-wife. But he could do so many things differently. It’s unfortunate that he hasn’t gotten any psychiatric help. I feel like what he does would be tantamount to me telling my son, “You’re the best boy in the world. Come hold my hand, sweetie, while I drink this antifreeze, so I can look at your beautiful face. Don’t we feel good?” No, you feel good. The seven-year-old is traumatized forever.
I don’t really fault the film for that, either. There’s a lot of complexity to the characters and the situation, which is a good thing. If the film didn’t frustrate me so much, it wouldn’t be as good. But it still makes me mad.
Overall:
The Whale is intense and a bit depressing, but it’s also well-acted with interesting characters and a lead performance by Brendan Fraser that would not be undeserving of an Oscar.