Look, if you guys don't start going to see Guillermo del Toro's movies more often, he's eventually gonna run out of crazy people to finance them. And losing out on films like The Shape of Water would be a damn tragedy.
For film fans, del Toro has become practically synonymous with monsters. From the creatures in his Spanish-language opus Pan's Labyrinth to his kaiju love spawning Pacific Rim to the adoration he poured into his Hellboy films, there's more than a fascination for outlandish and fearsome creatures. The empathy del Toro has, on a personal story level, for fantastical non-human characters practically bleeds off the screen, and it feels like it's been building to this. With The Shape of Water, Guillermo del Toro has crafted a film that lives and breaths his own passion for that which does not "look like us" and made examining that the very text and theme of the piece.
And it's given him another masterpiece.
The film takes place in a slightly heightened 1950s, where Eliza (Sally Hawkins in a brilliant turn), a mute woman working as a janitor at a government research facility, comes across a strange aquatic creature. Credited merely as "the Asset," and brought to life via a combination of hyper-detailed bodysuit/animatronics and physical performance from actor Doug Jones, del Toro is obviously paying homage to the titular Creature from the Black Lagoon here. However, because he's del Toro, audience sympathies are flipped. Eliza is our window to finding wonder and eventual affection for the Asset, just as we care for the displaced and downtrodden people around her (either the overlooked minorities among the cleaning staff or her shunned neighbor). The cast sparkles with performances from character actor heavyweights like Octavia Spencer and Richard Jenkins turning in career high points in careers of already impressive highs, and the set design shifts between mundane, claustrophobic and idyllic depending on the characters' locations or even moods.
Acting as the ticking time bomb at the center of all of this is Michael Shannon as Agent Strickland, an evil that can only truly be embodied by the worst kind of righteous man. The movie gives us ample time to get to know all the characters both in and out of their place of work, but the more we see of Strickland, the more appalling he seems as layers of him peel back to reveal selfish ambition, uncaring lust, and naked hunger for elevation above others. He's a brilliant counterweight for the endlessly empathy-driven Eliza, and since he also enters the film at the same time as the Asset, the film plays merrily with the contrasting acts of violence of a cornered, hungry sentient being and a cold, bigoted McCarthy acolyte.
The Shape of Water is many things - a heist film, a spy thriller, a romance, a period allegory - but above all, it's a sumptuous, fantastical, and surprisingly funny exploration of a filmmaker's desire to find humanity in even the most inhuman. It's an exercise in empathy and deftly-juggled plot lines, a character study and an impressive walking of budgetary tightropes to bring to life a story that feels far larger than what it cost. And it's not subtle in its thematic aims, but it more than hits its mark.
"What makes a monster and what makes man?" others have asked. "Simple," the film answers. "Love."
Acting as the ticking time bomb at the center of all of this is Michael Shannon as Agent Strickland, an evil that can only truly be embodied by the worst kind of righteous man. The movie gives us ample time to get to know all the characters both in and out of their place of work, but the more we see of Strickland, the more appalling he seems as layers of him peel back to reveal selfish ambition, uncaring lust, and naked hunger for elevation above others. He's a brilliant counterweight for the endlessly empathy-driven Eliza, and since he also enters the film at the same time as the Asset, the film plays merrily with the contrasting acts of violence of a cornered, hungry sentient being and a cold, bigoted McCarthy acolyte.
The Shape of Water is many things - a heist film, a spy thriller, a romance, a period allegory - but above all, it's a sumptuous, fantastical, and surprisingly funny exploration of a filmmaker's desire to find humanity in even the most inhuman. It's an exercise in empathy and deftly-juggled plot lines, a character study and an impressive walking of budgetary tightropes to bring to life a story that feels far larger than what it cost. And it's not subtle in its thematic aims, but it more than hits its mark.
"What makes a monster and what makes man?" others have asked. "Simple," the film answers. "Love."
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