A review of The Shape of Water
****1/2 out of five stars
Currently in theaters
by Walter G. Tarrow
My favorite film of 2017, but unlike my best picture choice of 2016 The Handmaiden, this film from Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy, Pacific Rim, Pan’s Labyrinth) is not flying under the radar.
Already, well ahead of the Oscars on March 4, the film has won more than 60 awards, including Best Picture from the American Film Institute and the Critics’ Choice Awards. And rightly so.
Films from the mind of del Toro are not typical mainstream fare, but artistic achievements that truly transport and transcend. The Shape of Water is a faerie tale, not for kids, but for grownups. With art and production design, cinematography, musical score, and characters portrayed achingly, compassionately and honestly, the film draws on classic monsters and tales of scrappy heroes and malevolent villains placing these recognizable archetypes in an even more recognizable fantastic version of America in the 1950s.
Something of a reimagining of a 1950s creature feature Revenge of the Creature (itself a sequel to Creature from the Black Lagoon), an aquatic humanoid, a man fish if you will, is captured and transported to a lab in Baltimore where the US military seeks to weaponize its unique physiology. Upon its nostalgic B movie premise, del Toro adds layers of Cold War realities and human conditions, motivations and emotions, and elevates all to a truly profound, heartfelt experience.
Michael Shannon (Nocturnal Animals, Take Shelter) is at his sinister best as, under the direction of his military superior, the cowardly cruel torturer of the creature. Sally Hawkins (Happy-Go-Lucky, Blue Jasmine) is the mute cleaner at the lab who, at first, cares for, then falls in love with, the creature, and ultimately works to help him escape. And Richard Jenkins (Six Feet Under, The Visitor) is the corporate tossed aside aging gay artist/commercial illustrator who aids and abets the creature’s rescue.
In this, and his previous films, del Toro compels us to realize, through the horrid plight of the “monster,” that the true monsters are those who visit pain and suffering upon the innocent. Shannon’s character lives, on the surface, the idyllic Rockwellian good life with a beautiful family, a fancy car and an important position of power. He listens to the advice of motivational speakers, but is arrogant, insecure and bullying. And through an injury resulting from a violent encounter with the creature, we begin to see, in a physical sense, how corrupt he is deep down inside.
In addition, Russian agents, with one being on the team researching the creature, are poised to steal it or at least its secrets. All the while, suspicion, mistrust and hostility are driven by the international politics and culture of the time. Even Richard Jenkins’ artist is a victim of the 50s biases against homosexuality.
With art and production design charming, fanciful and clever, and a score that captures the faerie of the tale, the film is a captivating work of cinematic art.
At its core, however, Shape is an enchanting love story. A love story, like Beauty and the Beast, which finds compassion runs deep, and beauty, true inner beauty, naturally innocent, resides with love most meaningfully within.
