The Shape of Water Review

Starring: Sally Hawkins, Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, Doug Jones, Octavia Spencer

One of the most timeless stories is that of "Beauty and the Beast". As the proclaimed "tale as old as time" continues to be produced, new and original variations are always welcome. In The Shape of Water, a lonely, mute custodian begins a friendship, and later falls in love, with an amphibious fish-man. I distinctly remember turning my nose up at the first trailer. Who wants to see a woman have a relationship with something that is seemingly a fish? In recent weeks, buzz for The Shape of Water has been building as it continuous to collect awards and recognition. Though it may contain one of the weirdest premises of any film I have seen, The Shape of Water is a gorgeous film, full of heart and the human spirit. Somehow the bizarre story manages to feel relatable at very intimate levels. The first line in the film is spoken by Richard Jenkins' character, who says: "If spoke of it...the princess without voice, the tale of love and loss, and the monster who tried to destroy it all..." This line feels as if it is setting up a fairy tale. The whimsy is present from the first few minutes, and perfectly sets the tone for the rest of the movie. Even better, only through watching the film does one realize what this passage means. The monster that he speaks of may not be who it seems.

To say that Sally Hawkins is great in this film is an understatement. A protagonist is often the anchor of the story. Elisa Esposito is the crux of why the story works, yet Hawkins achieves this without ever speaking a single word. Her performance, and arguably the entire script, hinges on her powerful sign language and body movements to make the audience believe her character. After all, the audience must truly be behind the character attempting to have a relationship with a scaly creature, and Hawkins is able to make us believe her longing and her need to have someone lonely like her. The scene pictured above is one of my favorites in the film. Elisa is normally meek and timid. After she has successfully helped the creature escape, she is being questioned by Michael Shannon's character. As you can see, she wears a look of sheer confidence, knowing she has what he wants. Her impudence and reluctance to honor her superior is a championing moment for Elisa. As she departs his office, she slowly, and without ever breaking eye contact, signs: "F-U-C-K Y-O-U". While he lashes out at her change in behavior, he is still none the wiser as she leaves.

But it's not just Hawkins that helps the film soar. Richard Jenkins and Octavia Spencer, as her gay neighbor and black co-worker respectively, also give great Oscar-nominated performances that hammer home the film's message: this is about outcasts looking out for each other. Elisa has no purpose in life without her voice. She dreams, yet it is futile. Jenkins' Giles is an elderly gay man who was "born too early or too late for his life". In the 60's, homosexuality is still taboo so he is unable to live his life and make any connections outside of Elisa. He is reluctant to help her, but changes his mind with a beautiful speech about his loneliness, and recognizes if this creature helps Elisa escape hers, then he must help. Spencer's Zelda is African-American in the 60's, so she's similarly lonely. The race card does not distract from the film's core message, rather it is used in key moments that remind us of the unjust racism in this era. This helps us to relate the prejudice towards the three leads and sympathize with the creature. While many would look at him as a monster, these three see him as a comrade, and the relationship with Elisa as a shared antidote for the two.

It is because of the powerful and relatable themes (Who hasn't felt alone at one time or another?) that director Guillermo del Toro is able to "butter you up" for the questionable content (aka monster/woman sex) It is done very tastefully and is not too bizarre. The audience becomes completely invested in Elisa's character that the sexuality feels earned. Hawkins' powerful acting, not to mention that of the similarly voiceless fish-man, completely sells the audience on their eventual pairing. On the other side of the spectrum is a scene I felt was completely unearned. I won't spoil it, but there is a dance scene that is random and jarring. In a film completely immersive in its setting, score, and story, to have a scene completely take me out of the film was disheartening to say the least. You know it has to be weird if in a movie about a woman falling in love with a fish-man, this sequence is the one that stands out.

If you are willing to take a risk, The Shape of Water is a profoundly affecting drama. It's a love letter to loneliness and the dreamer within all of us. It also serves as a beautiful love letter to old Hollywood, evoking styles and motifs of classic monster movies (The Creature from the Black Lagoon comes to mind) and sweeping romances. At times, The Shape of Water is a pulse-pounding thriller, and in its softer moments it can be a very touching tale. It is rare for a filmmaker to move so swiftly through tones as Guillermo del Toro does in this film. Every single aspect of the human experience is laid bare in the script, and it's impossible to not feel for the characters he has created.

When I see a movie that is special, a certain feeling washes over me. When I saw Get Out, it was on the drive home that the feeling hit me. When The Shape of Water came to a close, and the last piece of the musical score (which is incredible) played as the ending titles came on the screen, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Indeed, the film I had just watched was very special.

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