REVIEW – “The Shape of Water”: A Fantasy-Driven Romantic Creature Feature For the Moment

by Joe Hammerschmidt

There is always something magical about Gullermo del Toro’s films that manages to hook you in right from the opening credits onward. It’s what sets the tone, the mood, and in the best cases, one’s perception of suspense. The opening shots of his latest directorial effort The Shape of Water accomplish just that, only giving away what will be the driving action of the film itself: underwater beauty in an above-ground setting. Judging from the marketing campaign, it appeared to me what the target directive of famed director of the cult sci-fi epic Pacific Rim, and most recently, the Gothic Crimson Peak, was nothing more than a fairy tale gone off the rails. The best film ads only skate the surface to pull a viewer into the product; the film on its own terms is what captivates an unsuspecting audience, or at least me. What you will experience is a timely love story mixed with just the faintest hint of those famous Universal creature features from the 50’s and 60’s, and the mixture is not only mind-blowing, but also essential; thoughtful, yet also daring; prestigious, yet unafraid to show pure escapism, with a true purpose of conveying real humanism.

1960’s Baltimore is our setting, at a point where the Cold War, along with multiple racial and cultural frustrations have reached a pivotal turning point. Similar to what audiences unanimously rejected earlier this fall with Suburbicon, del Toro only uses the tension of the era as a base framing, only popping up in the least likely places to aid in character building. Danish-born DoP Dan Laustsen (John Wick: Chapter Two) has an eye for shots that naturally captivate the eyes with skillful restraint. The look of the city, along with all the revolutionary applications of water throughout is in his capable hands with a seamless weaving of elements, be they realistic or VFX, the two blending in and out of parity while keeping the tone consistent.

What we are insisted on focusing our attention to more is the simpler facets of humanity, all through the eyes of Elisa (Sally Hawkins), a mute, but loyal janitorial worker at a pseudo-secret government-funded scientific research lab in the heart of the city. On a regular day, she along with close co-worker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) are only keeping their heads out of the radar of overbearing boss Strickland (Michael Shannon), a research general just looking for a way out of his current situation. He finds it with the harboring of a potentially harmful sea creature (Doug Jones), who’s not entirely amphibian, yet not quite human; easily a hybrid of the two. It’s a project secretive researcher Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg) possesses an overwhelming pride and attachment to, but that Strickland desires to eliminate, aware of how much it’s getting in the way of his own career trajectory.

Eliza is naturally lonely, with her only friend, Giles (Richard Jenkins), a struggling freelance artist, to keep company and geek out over classic 40’s musicals on TV, that sense of community the pair want but can’t always see eye-to-eye on, at least until they face the conflict of giving a better life for the so-called amphibian man, for whom Eliza develops a natural bond for; equally voiceless, lonely, and longing for an improvement to their quality of life. Seeing Hawkins and Jones share the screen together in their respective roles, Jones embodying his character’s suit like a fine leather glove, is like the flawless flow of a quality Shakespearean sonnet, only without a reliance on words to convey their desires to the viewer; an almost legendary moment involving music and Hawkins’ singing prowess, accompanied by Alexandre Desplat’s illuminating arrangement manage to sell the point further. It’s all fluid motion, which del Toro embraces, in an unapologetic-ally human nature.

A wide range of emotion, both bright and dark are on convincing display, championed by the other three male leads, played to extremes which benefit the film’s message. As if I couldn’t love Shannon any more, he proves once more he is the definitive character actor of this decade, if not this generation, in portraying a villain part who understands his wrongdoings may involve a trifle of blow-back, but clearly doesn’t care. He’s just mad with control issues, an antagonist that is easy to “love to hate”, and Shannon is committed to delivering on that promise, as only he can. Stuhlbarg’s conflicted middle-ground scientist character, who faces similar dual conflicts, has the easy-going reliability of an actor required of double the work on screen or stage, only embodied into a single character; his here just occupies two professions that merge terribly as part of the plot.

Jenkins, as the bruised, closeted artist who finds accepting his sexuality, his personal flaws, an impossible challenge. He embraces his value of love through the relationship Elisa shares with the Amphibian, and as that supportive friend that could never steer one off the beaten path, given his experience with such a trajectory, it feels warm, it feels real.  And then there’s Miss Spencer, the established Oscar-winner who feels just as home in an ensemble as in a leading part. Playing the lone African-American cleaning woman in the building, she exhibits nothing but pride in her work, and so does Spencer, once more bold and just more daring.

No other film with a symbolic romantic relationship this year could possibly match the truthful complexity of The Shape of Water, the way del Toro attempted to make it. What started out initially as a straightforward remake of Creature From the Black Lagoon is simply more comfortable as a sensual, decadent, and gratuitously violent attempt at an unexpectedly adult love story, using the former’s DNA as a blueprint. The final result amounts to a unique vision realized, combining the films of old with a modern-day sensibility, where the freedom of love is more confident than ever against the circumstances, and where humanity plays a consistently winning deck. What del Toro has attempted is nothing short of a cinematic miracle at the end of an off-kilter year, and a reminder of why the human struggle is never-ending. It takes strong, silent, confident individuals like Eliza to dig deep, and find the goodness in others, be they really human or not; may the same be said of the rest of us? I say, with as much hope as this film strives for, yes. (A-)

The Shape of Water opens in Seattle this weekend; SIFF Cinema Egyptian, Cinemark Lincoln Square; rated R for sexual content, graphic nudity, violence and language; 123 minutes.