The Shape Of Water brings love to the monster movie genre
Of the movie monsters in the 1950’s, The Creature from the Black Lagoon ranks as my favorite. The Creature, known as Gill-man, had a distinct design, one that wasn’t terrifying so much as fascinating. The Gill-man was not a supernatural creature, like Dracula or the Mummy, nor was he an abomination of science like Frankenstein or the Invisible Man.
No, the Gill-man was a lost wonder, an intelligent creature full of curiosity rather than outright malice. His ultimate fate in the film was due to the inherent survival instinct found in all creatures—his kidnapping of the girl was mostly incidental.
Most monsters were kidnappers in their films, but Gill-man seemed to have a genuine love and concern for Kay Lawrence. Theirs was a romance interrupted, unrequited and unconsummated, leaving audiences to wonder what might have been. Thank goodnes for Guillermo del Toro.
I could say that for a variety of reasons, but this year my gratitude is due to his latest film The Shape of Water. It is undoubtedly the weirdest, most entertaining, and captivating film of the year. I’d even go so far as calling it the best film I’ve seen. Whatever subversion has been assigned Rian Johnson for his Star Wars film should be reconsidered in the light of this film.
The Shape of Water is a dark beauty, a soaring song, and a classic love story wrapped into watercolor painting of deep greens and blues. It’s a wonderful film that could capture the hearts of any audience, so long as they allow it to wash over them.
Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) is a woman ignored. Rendered mute by a childhood accident, Elisa was raised as an orphan. She is more than she seems, hiding a wicked intelligence and depth that only her middle aged neighbor, a closeted gay artist named Giles (Richard Jenkins), and Zelda (Octavia Spencer), her African American best friend at work, can see. Sally communicates using American Sign Language, but like most language, it is insufficient in communicating who she really is.
We get to know Elisa through her routines—her breakfast, her baths, her egg timer, her bus ride, her work, her friendships. She is normal enough, but vibrant and beautiful and hopeful in her own way.
She works at the Occam Aerospace Research Center in Baltimore as a janitor during the Cold War. The scientists that surround her are desperate for any edge over the Soviets (the Soviets share their concerns.)
When an “asset” is brought in from South America, being towed by the cruel Colonel Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon), Elisa’s interest is piqued.
The asset is a creature—scaled and beautiful, with features both human and amphibious, a part of the wild that might have been worshipped as a god in its part of the world. Elisa spends her free moments at work developing a relationship with the creature, communicating through music and sign, creating a music of her own.
The premise of the story is strange, of course. An interspecies romance might be offputting to some. It’s a beauty and the beast story, except that this time the beast is not a prince and the beauty is not especially.
Subversion comes in the tropes del Toro so powerfully undermines. It isn’t the beauty that is kidnapped—it is the beast that is pursued. Elisa is drawn to the creature because the creature doesn’t see her as lacking an essential part of herself—it doesn’t need her voice to understand her.
Sally Hawkins is a charming and exquisite as any Disney princess, giving Elisa a self-possession and agency that damsels often lack. The supporting cast, particularly Michael Shannon, is excellent. But the film’s beauty is found in more in visuals than the narrative.
Del Toro, of course, is distinctive in his designs—the asset borrows heavily from both the Creature from the Black Lagoon and Abe Sapian from de Toro’s own Hellboy. But the look of the film itself is a wonder to behold—dark and colorful and careful.
The Shape of Water is far better than anything in theaters right now. Hopefully, it will land in Chattanooga soon (I had to see it Knoxville). When it appears, I hope the theaters will be full. Your holiday will be better for it.