The Shape of Water (2017)
In a 1960s research facility, a mute janitor forms a relationship with an aquatic creature.
Director:
Guillermo del ToroWriters:
Guillermo del Toro (screenplay by),
Vanessa Taylor (screenplay by)
Storyline
From master storyteller Guillermo del Toro comes THE SHAPE OF WATER, an
otherworldly fable set against the backdrop of Cold War era America
circa 1962. In the hidden high-security government laboratory where she
works, lonely Elisa (Sally Hawkins) is trapped in a life of isolation.
Elisa's life is changed forever when she and co-worker Zelda (Octavia
Spencer) discover a secret classified experiment. Rounding out the cast
are Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, Michael Stuhlbarg, and Doug Jones.
Details
Release Date:
21 February 2018 (Philippines) See more »Also Known As:
La forma del agua See more »Box Office
Budget:
$19,400,000 (estimated)Opening Weekend USA:
$166,564, 3 December 2017, Limited ReleaseGross USA:
$4,565,665, 21 December 2017Company Credits
Show more on
IMDbPro »
Technical Specs
Runtime:
Sound Mix:
D-Cinema 48kHz 5.1Aspect Ratio:
1.85 : 1
See full technical specs »
Did You Know?
Goofs
The general's ribbon bar is upside down. The Silver Star and Distinguished Service Medal were his highest honors, and should be on the top row, not the bottom. His WW2 Victory Medal is much lower in precedence and should be on a lower row, not the top. See more »
In James Whale's 1935 film "The Bride of Frankenstein," the monster (Boris Karloff)
says mournfully, "Alone: bad. Friend: good!" That's what Guillermo del
Toro's latest film "The Shape of Water" is all about, the loneliness of
those born before their time, born different. "The Shape of Water"
doesn't cohere into the fairy tale promised by the dreamy opening. It
makes its points with a jackhammer, wielding symbols in blaring neon.
The mood of swooning romanticism is silly or moving, depending on your
perspective. (I found it to be both.) The film starts in a wavering
green underwater world, with a woman floating in what looks like a
drowned Atlantis. The image is otherworldly, magical, and Alexandre
Desplat's score is wistful and bittersweet. Richard Jenkins
narrates, asking helplessly, "If I spoke about it, what would I tell
you" about what happened to the "princess without a voice"?
The "princess without a voice" turns out to be the mute Elisa (Sally Hawkins),
who mops floors in the cavernous underground tunnels of a
Baltimore-based corporation (the word OCCAM—as in razor?—in towering
letters over the entrance). Working alongside Elisa is Zelda (Octavia Spencer),
who provides constant running commentary through the day, responding to
Elisa's sign language with a torrent of words. The year is 1962, the
background is the space race and the Cold War. The head honcho at the
company is a sadist racist named Strickland (Michael Shannon),
who swaggers around carrying a cattle prod (which he calls an "Alabama
howdee-do"). Whatever is done at the corporation is top secret, and
everyone is paranoid about the Russians, especially once "The Asset"
arrives in a portable tank. The Asset is the Amphibian Man (Doug Jones),
discovered in the Amazon, once worshiped as a god and now contained in a
tank, enduring occasional torture via Strickland's howdee-do. The
scientist Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg) pleads for mercy on the creature's behalf. The Amphibian Man should be studied, not destroyed.
Meanwhile,
Elisa is drawn to the "monster," and begins a secret campaign to gain
his trust. She offers him hard-boiled eggs. She plays him Benny Goodman
records. She teaches him sign language. The courtship sequence is the
most successful in the film, calling to mind the stunning first half of "The Black Stallion"
when the shipwrecked boy attempts to tame the wild horse, or the early
sequences of "E.T." when the child and the alien start to communicate.
Monster movie references abound throughout "Shape of Water": "King
Kong," "Creature from the Black Lagoon," "Starman," and—most of all—Jean Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast," with one scene in particular an explicit homage.
Production designer Paul D. Austerberry
has a field day, creating multiple atmospherically rich worlds, so real
you can smell the dank rot in those basement corridors. Elisa's
apartment is green-tinted, with green bathroom tiles, green water in the
tub. (Green, as we are told multiple times in different contexts, is
"the future.") Even more symbolically, her apartment hovers over a huge
movie palace, and she lives amidst the echoes of the fantasy world
below. Strickland's suburban home is a psychotic "Mad Men" set, so
yellowy-bright it's clearly not "the future" but the delusional
complacent past. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen
creates a clammy wet mood, windows streaming and swirling with
raindrops, shadows wavering on the walls, the overall feeling being
submersion into the underwater world of The Asset. The film looks like a
dream.
Elisa teeters on the edge of being "twee," and there are moments
when Hawkins crosses the line into self-consciously adorable spunkiness.
When she stares starry-eyed at a pair of red shoes (i.e. ruby slippers)
circling in a shop window, it's really pouring it on a bit too thick.
What's refreshing about the character is her courage and
resourcefulness, and her brisk matter-of-fact attitude about her sexual
needs. (She masturbates every morning after setting an egg timer so she
doesn't get behind schedule). She looks at Amphibian Man—his nictitating
membrane, his 12-pack abs, the Ken Doll mound between his
legs—overwhelmed by attraction. She confides in Giles, her gay neighbor
(Richard Jenkins, in the best performance in the film) who is tormented
by unrequited love for a young guy who works at a diner. Giles'
television is always tuned to old movies, so he can revel in Betty
Grable, Alice Faye, Bojangles and Shirley Temple tap dancing up a
stairway.
"The Shape of Water" shows over and over again the
demonizing of the "Other," the heartlessness of denying living creatures
dignity. The film is on certain footing when it's focusing on the
brutal treatment of the monster, the "voicelessness" of Elisa, the
lonely pre-Stonewall gay man. They all come from "the future," before
their time. But when the film portrays contemporary real-life events—the
African-American couple told they can't sit at the counter,
Strickland's racist comments to Zelda, the news footage of fire hoses
turned on actual civil rights marchers—the fragile fabric of the film is
broken. There's something unsettling about using these things as
"atmosphere," even as the moments dovetail with the overall theme. At
its worst, using these real-life events feels like a shorthand, a
too-obvious pointing out of the similarities between the real world and
the fairy tale, in case we didn't get it.
As Elisa, Giles, and
Zelda team up to try to save the Monster, the film jerks away from the
single-minded energy of the dreamlike courtship sequence. The second
half of the film—choppily episodic, drawn-out—is noticeably weaker than
the first half. The film feels much longer than it is. There are
elements that work beautifully and elements that don't work at all.
A
good artist doesn't necessarily set out to please the audience. A good
artist sets out to please himself. Sometimes the two things merge, and
in the best of del Toro's films, they do. His is an enthusiastic and
passionate mind. The devotion of an artist—whether it's Leonardo da
Vinci, The Troggs, John Cassavetes, Chantal Akerman,
whoever—to what turns them on is catching, and audiences feel it. In a
corporate-run franchise-driven industry, del Toro's movies are
refreshingly personal. All of this is true of "The Shape of Water," but
still, something's off.
FINAL RATING: 10/10 FOR THE GENRE AND 10/10 OVERALL
Thanks for reading and have fun watching movies.
