“Unable to perceive the shape of You, I find You all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with Your love. It humbles my heart. For You are everywhere.”
The Shape of Water, Guillermo del Toro’s latest creature feature, is a fairy tale for troubled times. This was the tagline featured in the film’s original screenplay, and it reflects del Toro’s artistic vision as a director. His films are filled with magical creatures and dark imagery, but always come with a childlike sense of wonder, even in big blockbusters like Pacific Rim and Hellboy. This is a man that loves what he does, and that is seen throughout The Shape of Water, which blends del Toro’s love of monsters, outcasts and the enduring power of cinema.
In what may be the most uniquely bold concept on film this year, at least on a mainstream level, The Shape of Water is set in that transitional period in 1962 America, when the pressures of having the perfect nuclear family were about to reach a breaking point with the cultural and sexual revolution. But rather than focusing on the straight white man for whom things were perfectly ideal in this time period, del Toro centers the story on outcasts. Our hero is Elisa (Sally Hawkins), a mute janitor who lives above a failing movie theater and works at a secret government facility. Her closest friends are Zelda (Octavia Spencer), an African American janitor at the facility stuck in a troubled marriage, and Giles (Richard Jenkins), her closeted gay neighbor who routinely finds failure in his personal and professional life. Elisa’s world is forever changed with the arrival of a new amphibian creature (Doug Jones) at the facility, a fishlike being who is built like a man. Elisa soon develops a deep bond with him, feeding him eggs, playing records and teaching him sign language. Meanwhile, Col. Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon) frequently abuses the creature and hopes to harvest its body in the hope of beating the Russians in developing space technology. As Elisa’s connection to the creature grows even stronger into a genuine romance, she does whatever is necessary to protect the creature, even if it means risking everything.
The love story between a woman and a fish-man is the kind of concept that could easily go wrong or be played for laughs, but del Toro injects The Shape of Water with a dreamy atmosphere that makes it all work. It is set up from the beginning through narration that this is not going to be a hyper-realistic story, and that is displayed throughout the film, from the fanciful, melodic score by Alexandre Desplat to the stock characters to the central romance itself. Yet, almost every cast member injects their characters with such pathos, a lived-in sense of what it is truly like to be an outcast in repressed times, that it is easy to get swept up in the film’s charms. Hawkins delivers one of the most moving performances of the year without saying a word. All of her feelings must be communicated through her facial expressions and free-flowing body language, and any person who has ever felt like an outsider will understand and identify with Elisa. One scene, which will surely become Hawkins’ Oscar clip, features Elisa trying desperately to communicate to Giles how she feels about the amphibian man, and she says so much just with her eyes and hand gestures. Not many actresses could silently carry a film, and to see a brilliant non-movie star like Hawkins do so is particularly delightful.
This is also one of the best ensemble casts of the year, with Jenkins and Spencer delivering crowd-pleasing turns. Like with Lady Bird, both Zelda and Giles have their own lives and are going through pain separate from Elisa, rather than being mere extensions of the main character. As the straight white male with a high-paying job and anger issues, Shannon’s personal struggles have less impact, especially with how absurdly over-the-top his performance becomes at times, but it is always noteworthy when a film takes the time to flesh out the villain’s motivations. Michael Stuhlbarg rounds out the cast with an empathetic performance as a Russian spy at the facility who, like Elisa, sees the value in preserving the amphibian man. The film is also gorgeous to look at, with production designer Paul D. Austerberry accentuating deep teals as the color of Elisa and the amphibian man’s love amid the drabness of their environments. So many shots from cinematographer Dan Laustsen are perfectly assembled, from Elisa and the amphibian man suspended in water to their reunion at the movie theater. Del Toro’s love of cinema is so resonant here, clearly taking inspiration from the classic monster movie Creature from the Black Lagoon. He also expertly incorporates the sweeping romance of melodramas of the day by Douglas Sirk. We even see Elisa and Giles delighting in old musicals. This is a movie made by someone whose whole life is wrapped up in the movies, but centered on characters who would never be the leads of their own story in the Hollywood of old.
The Shape of Water‘s greatness really comes down to is in the portrayal of the central romance. Elisa and the amphibian man are doomed lovers in a hard world. Their bond does not align with the pre-set values of America in the early ’60s, the kind of values that old white men (and some women) long to go back to now that minorities are fighting back against their oppressors and asking for their piece of the American pie. For people like Elisa and Giles and Zelda, life is not this ideal existence peddled by TV advertisements and now looked back upon fondly with rose-colored glasses by people who conformed to the majority. These characters, including the amphibian man, are stuck with themselves, and they cannot help but be who they are and love who they love. The intimacy of Elisa and this creature flows like water, an undefined substance that can be as delicate as a droplet or as encompassing as a flood. This bond is not restricted by anything other than the environments that try to contain it.
In a world now more divisive than ever, The Shape of Water really is a fairy tale for troubled times. As an amateur movie critic, I am bound by my own experiences, particularly as a queer person living in America in 2017. Even with how much we have advanced as a nation, we are still not all the way there to true equality for racial minorities, those of different sexual orientations and gender identities, and those with disabilities. Having this lived experience as I watch The Shape of Water, I cannot help but be grateful and emotionally connected to a coded queer love story handled so accurately and shown in a positive light. Anyone can say “it’s just a movie,” dismiss it as a simple fairy tale or even bash its simple characters, and I have read such criticisms, but The Shape of Water is a movie that will resonate. It won’t work on everybody, but if you are willing to suspend some disbelief and give yourself over to the magic of a craftsman like del Toro, it may just sweep you off your feet.
★★★★½
FOR YOUR AWARDS CONSIDERATION:
Best Picture
Best Director — Guillermo del Toro
Best Actress — Sally Hawkins
Best Supporting Actor — Richard Jenkins
Best Supporting Actress — Octavia Spencer
Best Original Screenplay — Guillermo del Toro and Vanessa Taylor
Best Production Design
Best Cinematography
Best Original Score
Best Sound Editing
Best Sound Mixing
Best Visual Effects