When I first heard that Guillermo del Toro’s next film would probably fit a similar mold of storytelling in line with Pan’s Labyrinth, I was beyond thrilled. I eagerly awaited for another cinematic venture into the mind of del Toro; his unapologetic candor towards monsters and darkness results in visual splendor and a true cinematic experience whenever his name is attached. Guillermo del Toro has his hand and footprints all over the fantastic side of storytelling, reminding audiences everywhere that there is still power in the imagination, no matter how obscene ideas on paper might come off.
It is with great pleasure to say that The Shape of Water is a breathtakingly astounding piece of filmmaking, one that is honest and one that resonates in current times filled with heartbreaking discoveries and an uncertain future.
Set against the backdrop of the Cold War in the 1960s, the film follows the unlikely bond formed between Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) and an amphibious creature (Doug Jones) dragged out of its home in the Amazon river and taken by Colonel Strickland (Michael Shannon) to a secret science lab in Baltimore to be poked and prodded in any way to gain an advantage over the Soviets in the space race.
Elisa, who works in this secret facility as a cleaning lady, is a mute: suffering from an accident she had when she was younger. She only communicates through sign language with only a few friends who understand her: a closeted gay man, next door neighbor, and struggling artist Giles (Richard Jenkins), and an African-American woman Zelda Fuller (Octavia Spencer) her coworker at the secret facility. Her secret interaction with the creature rouses the interest of scientist Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), who is tasked with vivisecting it, albeit reluctantly much to his behest from Strickland.
The film is all parts a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ love story, monster movie, cold-war era thriller, and fantasy/science-fiction fairy tale. In fact, if I were to tell someone succinctly what this movie is, I would tell them it is a modern fairy tale. This is the main attitude and gateway into this story. Dealing with fantasy or mainly fantastic elements in his films is del Toro’s prime wheelhouse.
It is truly no surprise then that he took this form of the fairy tale, a form that in the majority consciousness is more familiar to children over adults, and made it accessible for adults. Guillermo del Toro infuses this film and its story with the compassionate ideals and warm-heart that many of us need to be reminded of today.
Of course, top-level filmmaking craft is on full display throughout the picture. This cast, led by Sally Hawkins, is one of the best assembled for the films of 2017. I was captured and mesmerized by Hawkins’ performance.
Without dialogue she is able to show great range by purely looking, listening, and reacting. Her scene when she confronts Giles in his apartment, the one used in the trailers, is one of her best scenes in the film. There is so much emotion shown by all of the cast as well. There are scenes that feature the minor characters that are given so much respect for their individual characters. Giles is given a emotionally punching mini-arc, Zelda and Hoffstetler are also given moments to shine and show their inner humanity.
And even Strickland is given scenes which paint him as not your run-of-the-mill antagonist. He, like all the other characters of note, is given respect, even though he is not someone you want to cheer for. Strickland, in his own mind, feels as empty and incomplete as Elisa. While he may have bought that slick teal Cadillac and have the picture perfect suburban family, it does not do anything that comes close to seeking a solace and acknowledgment from his superiors like General Hoyt.
I commend del Toro and Vanessa Taylor for creating these scenes which paint the picture for the minor characters and the antagonist. It allows for the audience to have an understanding of who they are on a deeper level. That’s empathy 101, folks!
The film is supplemented by the gorgeous cinematography headed by DP Dan Laustsen. The wide spectrum of green was something I wasn’t sure at first would gel with me as I watched the movie, but I was in awe of how the color was really appropriate for del Toro’s vision and the atmosphere of the story. Of course, there has to be equal credit for the design work, led by Paul D. Austerberry and Nigel Churcher.
The film noir-inspired design was something I was a huge fan of, and it works in regards to the attitude of the movie. I love the darkness that is created by the nature of noir. When paired with the color palette that the design features so prominently, it elevates the base of film noir design and brings it to an eerie, dream-like quality that serves the mature fairy tale form del Toro aims for.
The creature work done both practically and with visual effects is fantastic as well. You could argue that if the monster doesn’t work, this movie falls flat on its face. This is true in all movies that feature creatures, and you can argue that to a higher degree when it comes to del Toro’s work. But knowing how passionate he is for his monsters, and like all artists are for their works, you just know that he wasn’t going to skimp on quality and detail.
On the practical effects end of the creature, you have Doug Jones commanding the outfit and making a performance shine through. There is something irreplaceable with an actor in a suit, as it just allows for the authenticity to be present. Of course, it is supplemented with great effects work on the face of the creature. Credit is definitely due to the effects house that was in charge of that, as they needed to capture a captivating performance without words. The finished work shows they did that, and did it well.
You can’t leave any discussion of this film without mentioning its wonderful score. Alexandre Desplat knocks it out of the park with the composition and song choices he and del Toro used for the film. The score works so well in balancing the noir and fantasy elements together. I am not surprised to see Desplat gaining nominations and awards wins for this film. It is truly beautiful to listen to, and something else to behold when paired with the images Laustsen and del Toro conjure up.
The greatest thing I can say about The Shape of Water is that I can ramble on about elements and film craft and all that stuff, but when all is said and done I love it that I am able to sit in the darkness of the theater, let the power that this film has within it take over, and be engulfed in its waves. With this film, the praise that it receives is justly received because it does what all great cinema does: engage our emotions.
I think the perfect way to sum up my thoughts and feelings when coming out of the theater and thinking about it all night and ultimately writing my piece about it is this: I refer to Richard Jenkins’ key voice over at the beginning and end of the film: “If I were to tell you about her, the Princess Without Voice, what would I say?”
Well, it will be difficult for me to say, because in the end, I am left speechless.
Cinema Takedown 