Guillermo del Toro is one of the most passionate filmmakers to ever step behind a camera. If you read any of his interviews, it's clear that he loves the art of making movies, and his films reflect that sense of overwhelming joy. He has a passion for creatures and unique characters and flights of fancy, and I genuinely don't think there's a cynical bone in his body. He's a vital voice in pop cinema, and I cherish the fact that he's been able to work with such freedom over the years. While I don't have an encyclopedia-like knowledge of his work the way some film critics do, I've always been a fan of the del Toro films that I have seen. Pan's Labyrinth is a bona fide masterpiece, and Pacific Rim is one of the more original blockbusters to have debuted in recent memory. Even though I can sometimes miss the smaller del Toro films like Crimson Peak, I'm always looking forward to his next move.
The Shape of Water caught my eye earlier this year, when Fox placed the teaser trailer for the film in front of Matt Reeves' War for the Planet of the Apes. I hadn't pieced together the exact nature of the plot, but the Cold War-era fantasy looked like pure cinematic bliss, a throwback that would blend genres and styles with magical ease. And then came the reviews. The Shape of Water was hailed as del Toro's best since Pan's Labyrinth, or maybe his best ever. del Toro himself called this film "me, in my totality," noting that it was his personal favorite and the movie that serves as the culmination of his career thus far. Those were some sky-high expectations for sure, but The Shape of Water seemed like a beautiful confection that was just too good to resist. Ultimately, I'm as shocked as anyone to report that The Shape of Water didn't work for me. I kept waiting for this dreamy fable to grab me, to bring me into its world and take me away to a different time. But I didn't buy any of it. As the film jumps between genres and tones, wildly diverging from melodrama to mystery action to musical numbers, it loses sight of its core relationship, lumbering along as it reaches an inevitable conclusion. I so badly wanted to love this film, but instead, it just feels like a near-miss from a creative mastermind.
Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) has a fairly structured routine. She wakes up, she makes food for the day, and then she goes to work as a janitor at a shady government lab. Elisa is mute, and she has only two very close friends in the world- co-worker Zelda Fuller (Octavia Spencer) and closeted neighbor Giles (Richard Jenkins). But Elisa's world will be changed forever by the arrival of a mysterious creature (played by Doug Jones) at the lab, a sea monster snatched from the Amazon by the villainous Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon). The creature (or "the asset") becomes the focus of Cold War tensions between America and the Soviet Union, despite the pleadings of Dr. Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg). For Elisa, the creature isn't a possible weapon or a foreign monster- he's someone who understands her deeply, someone she loves. As Strickland's plan for the creature looms, everyone's life will be in danger, leaving Elisa to concoct a risky scheme that could save the day.
The Shape of Water is a film that exists in its own world. Like most of del Toro's output, it plays by a set of rules that don't apply to normal films. This is the kind of movie where a romantic black-and-white musical number can be followed up by a brutal double murder, where a love story between a woman and a fish man isn't even questioned. All of this is theoretically great, and I love that del Toro has no desire to pander to audience expectations, shattering the boundaries between genres and leaving you with something truly unique. But The Shape of Water displays a comfort with itself that renders it inaccessible to all but the most committed audiences, brushing over any flaws in favor of its own swoon-worthy romanticism. It's an insular experience, and I found myself on the outside looking in.
But matters of taste ignore the fact that The Shape of Water, as lovingly crafted and quietly gorgeous as it may be, is plagued with issues from start to finish. Much of what del Toro is doing here hinges on the audience believing this surreal romance, which I never imagined would be an issue for me. I got exactly what he was doing in the trailers, and it looked like there was real, unique chemistry between Sally Hawkins' lonely janitor and Doug Jones' strange creature. That sense of connection is decidedly less palpable in the movie, and neither character ever comes to life in a significant way. As intended by del Toro and co-screenwriter Vanessa Taylor, the film extends an extraordinary and necessary sense of empathy to oppressed minorities in its Cold War setting. But The Shape of Water never gives you a reason to care about any of their individual lives. The film makes the case that Elisa and the creature (which is oddly never given a name) see each other as complete beings worthy of love, and on paper, that's great. Unfortunately, neither character has any real definition, no complexities or inner conflict that would render them interesting to an average audience. Once again, despite an abundance of empathy for its characters, The Shape of Water remains closed off, stuck in its own world of wonder and horror.
Nobody really has an arc in The Shape of Water, and as a result, this entire movie becomes difficult to reconcile. Elisa never undergoes any significant change over the course of the story, and neither does the fish man (Any suggestions on what I should call him?), who is defined by his sensuality and healing powers alone. Octavia Spencer's Zelda has little to do, and even though Richard Jenkins' Giles is forced to be brave during some crucial moments, it's not enough for the story to work. Michael Stuhlbarg's scientist character is revealed to be a Russian agent pretty early in the movie, but he helps Elisa break out the creature because......he respects it? Michael Shannon's Richard Strickland is easily the most dynamic individual in the movie, and yet his harassing, Bible-thumping demeanor is too one-note to ever be truly interesting. Simply put, these are all flat, static characters, and I just can't see what we're supposed to get out of this story beyond bumper sticker-worthy quotes like "Love conquers all!"
I know this sounds extremely cynical, but del Toro's film just never builds up a real sense of dramatic momentum. Stuck with a cast of likable characters that don't really do anything, the whole narrative has no choice but to stumble its way to some kind of finale. I was waiting for it to grab me, to suck me into its world of mystery, intrigue, and passion. I wanted to fall in love with del Toro's unconventional romance. But I was left with little to embrace, and all I could do was just admire the craft of the work. There's no denying that I found multiple elements in The Shape of Water to be thrilling and gorgeous. Alexandre Desplat's score is marvelous, Dan Laustsen's cinematography is awe-inspiring in a classic way, and del Toro's fusion of genres continues to impress. The opening and closing shots are thrilling, accompanied by the beautiful delivery of a poem by the marvelous Richard Jenkins. Some elements are so good that they make me want to give The Shape of Water another chance.
This really is a film that is just begging to be loved. It's an inclusive story, told with care by a born filmmaker who is deeply passionate about his art. My utter indifference to such a bold and uncompromising piece of work is almost inexplicable. But as much as I wish that I had fallen madly in love with del Toro's latest, the truth of the matter is that I found myself watching an interesting, mildly engaging, but profoundly flawed film.
In one of the most dazzling scenes of the movie, Elisa momentarily gains a voice for a big musical number, with the film turning to black-and-white for an elaborate dance. It's a gorgeous interlude, one that seems to indicate an even stranger, more dazzling cinematic experiment (del Toro originally planned to shoot in B&W). But as the film returned to reality, I found my emotions downgraded once again. Love turned to admiration, and it stayed that way, even as del Toro brought the narrative strands together to conclude his story. I have enormous respect for del Toro's incredible vision, but admiration is all I have for this film. For all of its robust style and numerous peculiarities, the experience of The Shape of Water left me unmoved.
THE FINAL GRADE: C+ (6.3/10)
Images courtesy of Fox Searchlight
The Shape of Water caught my eye earlier this year, when Fox placed the teaser trailer for the film in front of Matt Reeves' War for the Planet of the Apes. I hadn't pieced together the exact nature of the plot, but the Cold War-era fantasy looked like pure cinematic bliss, a throwback that would blend genres and styles with magical ease. And then came the reviews. The Shape of Water was hailed as del Toro's best since Pan's Labyrinth, or maybe his best ever. del Toro himself called this film "me, in my totality," noting that it was his personal favorite and the movie that serves as the culmination of his career thus far. Those were some sky-high expectations for sure, but The Shape of Water seemed like a beautiful confection that was just too good to resist. Ultimately, I'm as shocked as anyone to report that The Shape of Water didn't work for me. I kept waiting for this dreamy fable to grab me, to bring me into its world and take me away to a different time. But I didn't buy any of it. As the film jumps between genres and tones, wildly diverging from melodrama to mystery action to musical numbers, it loses sight of its core relationship, lumbering along as it reaches an inevitable conclusion. I so badly wanted to love this film, but instead, it just feels like a near-miss from a creative mastermind.
Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) has a fairly structured routine. She wakes up, she makes food for the day, and then she goes to work as a janitor at a shady government lab. Elisa is mute, and she has only two very close friends in the world- co-worker Zelda Fuller (Octavia Spencer) and closeted neighbor Giles (Richard Jenkins). But Elisa's world will be changed forever by the arrival of a mysterious creature (played by Doug Jones) at the lab, a sea monster snatched from the Amazon by the villainous Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon). The creature (or "the asset") becomes the focus of Cold War tensions between America and the Soviet Union, despite the pleadings of Dr. Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg). For Elisa, the creature isn't a possible weapon or a foreign monster- he's someone who understands her deeply, someone she loves. As Strickland's plan for the creature looms, everyone's life will be in danger, leaving Elisa to concoct a risky scheme that could save the day.
The Shape of Water is a film that exists in its own world. Like most of del Toro's output, it plays by a set of rules that don't apply to normal films. This is the kind of movie where a romantic black-and-white musical number can be followed up by a brutal double murder, where a love story between a woman and a fish man isn't even questioned. All of this is theoretically great, and I love that del Toro has no desire to pander to audience expectations, shattering the boundaries between genres and leaving you with something truly unique. But The Shape of Water displays a comfort with itself that renders it inaccessible to all but the most committed audiences, brushing over any flaws in favor of its own swoon-worthy romanticism. It's an insular experience, and I found myself on the outside looking in.
But matters of taste ignore the fact that The Shape of Water, as lovingly crafted and quietly gorgeous as it may be, is plagued with issues from start to finish. Much of what del Toro is doing here hinges on the audience believing this surreal romance, which I never imagined would be an issue for me. I got exactly what he was doing in the trailers, and it looked like there was real, unique chemistry between Sally Hawkins' lonely janitor and Doug Jones' strange creature. That sense of connection is decidedly less palpable in the movie, and neither character ever comes to life in a significant way. As intended by del Toro and co-screenwriter Vanessa Taylor, the film extends an extraordinary and necessary sense of empathy to oppressed minorities in its Cold War setting. But The Shape of Water never gives you a reason to care about any of their individual lives. The film makes the case that Elisa and the creature (which is oddly never given a name) see each other as complete beings worthy of love, and on paper, that's great. Unfortunately, neither character has any real definition, no complexities or inner conflict that would render them interesting to an average audience. Once again, despite an abundance of empathy for its characters, The Shape of Water remains closed off, stuck in its own world of wonder and horror.
Nobody really has an arc in The Shape of Water, and as a result, this entire movie becomes difficult to reconcile. Elisa never undergoes any significant change over the course of the story, and neither does the fish man (Any suggestions on what I should call him?), who is defined by his sensuality and healing powers alone. Octavia Spencer's Zelda has little to do, and even though Richard Jenkins' Giles is forced to be brave during some crucial moments, it's not enough for the story to work. Michael Stuhlbarg's scientist character is revealed to be a Russian agent pretty early in the movie, but he helps Elisa break out the creature because......he respects it? Michael Shannon's Richard Strickland is easily the most dynamic individual in the movie, and yet his harassing, Bible-thumping demeanor is too one-note to ever be truly interesting. Simply put, these are all flat, static characters, and I just can't see what we're supposed to get out of this story beyond bumper sticker-worthy quotes like "Love conquers all!"
I know this sounds extremely cynical, but del Toro's film just never builds up a real sense of dramatic momentum. Stuck with a cast of likable characters that don't really do anything, the whole narrative has no choice but to stumble its way to some kind of finale. I was waiting for it to grab me, to suck me into its world of mystery, intrigue, and passion. I wanted to fall in love with del Toro's unconventional romance. But I was left with little to embrace, and all I could do was just admire the craft of the work. There's no denying that I found multiple elements in The Shape of Water to be thrilling and gorgeous. Alexandre Desplat's score is marvelous, Dan Laustsen's cinematography is awe-inspiring in a classic way, and del Toro's fusion of genres continues to impress. The opening and closing shots are thrilling, accompanied by the beautiful delivery of a poem by the marvelous Richard Jenkins. Some elements are so good that they make me want to give The Shape of Water another chance.
This really is a film that is just begging to be loved. It's an inclusive story, told with care by a born filmmaker who is deeply passionate about his art. My utter indifference to such a bold and uncompromising piece of work is almost inexplicable. But as much as I wish that I had fallen madly in love with del Toro's latest, the truth of the matter is that I found myself watching an interesting, mildly engaging, but profoundly flawed film.
In one of the most dazzling scenes of the movie, Elisa momentarily gains a voice for a big musical number, with the film turning to black-and-white for an elaborate dance. It's a gorgeous interlude, one that seems to indicate an even stranger, more dazzling cinematic experiment (del Toro originally planned to shoot in B&W). But as the film returned to reality, I found my emotions downgraded once again. Love turned to admiration, and it stayed that way, even as del Toro brought the narrative strands together to conclude his story. I have enormous respect for del Toro's incredible vision, but admiration is all I have for this film. For all of its robust style and numerous peculiarities, the experience of The Shape of Water left me unmoved.
THE FINAL GRADE: C+ (6.3/10)
Images courtesy of Fox Searchlight
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