‘The Shape of Water’: an enchanting and imaginative fairy tale for grown-ups ★★★★

Guillermo del Toro doesn’t have an extensive list of smash hits or Hollywood blockbusters with astronomical box office figures on his CV. As a director he doesn’t have that Spielberg ring of familiarity to his name, as he doesn’t make films very often, and they are usually B-list releases that don’t attract a mainstream audience. The films del Toro does make contain this rare authenticity that seeing just one of them is enough to get why the critics continually heap praise on him. ‘The Shape of Water’ is no departure from del Toro’s visionary style, except it’s finally getting the big release the fifty-three-year-old has never had before. Characteristic of del Toro’s fascination with dark fantasy and monsters, his latest project tells an unlikely love story between a mute cleaner and an amphibian man set against the Cold War-era backdrop. If the film automatically faces challenges in replicating a distinct visual aesthetic, it’s also how del Toro manages to swerve the narrative away from another ‘Beauty and the Beast’ fable: how to wrestle the stereotypes of stock characters, involve us emotionally and tell a story we don’t feel we have watched countless times before. Curious Elisa (Sally Hawkins) works as a cleaner for a secret government facility. One day she sees the lofty scientists’ latest discovery and senses an isolated existence not unlike her own. Awed and fascinated, Elisa develops a bond with the mysterious creature and hatches a plan to rescue him from captivity.

If you can overlook its logical implausibility (how could a minimum wage custodian realistically gain unlimited access to a high-security water tank?), you will be transfixed by the beautiful look of the picture and the blossoming connection between these two lonely hearts. For a good 75% of the film I had tears in my eyes, as I was completely under its mesmeric spell and absorbed in its emotional force. Finding holes in its logic will only spoil the experience, so you’re best leaving anyone remotely cynical at home. Despite the differences in their genetic makeup, the love story is told with such heartfelt artistry that I genuinely rooted for Elisa to be rescued from her loneliness by her knight in scaly armour. What’s particularly interesting is Elisa and the creature don’t exchange a single word verbally: every thought and feeling is beautifully articulated through physical touch and eye contact. Bearing in mind the couple’s unorthodox mode of communication, the love affair is played out with the earnestness of a star-crossed romance. Basic needs for sexual satisfaction and companionship are implied, but del Toro retains an innocent tenderness that’s refreshing compared to the ludicrously graphic content we see in every other film rated above PG. The delicate romance is perfectly matched by a sweeping orchestral score from the brilliant Alexandre Desplat.

Sally Hawkins is on Oscar-worthy form, as she is absolutely exquisite in keeping your attention focussed on her and only her in every scene. Hawkins has an enormous task not only making her sign language look second nature, but conveying Elisa’s every thought big and small minus the luxury of speech. Hawkins works overtime using all the muscles in her face and body to express deep feeling, anguish, desperation and attraction that it’s overwhelming. Each step and sign radiates a mischief and intelligence reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn that’s simply delightful to watch. So powerful is her performance that there are no words to do it justice, aside from revelatory perhaps. The significance of her nearly silent role cannot be undermined, as her character gives voice to the voiceless and underrepresented in cinema.

Unfortunately, the film’s overlong running time prevents it from achieving note perfection. Michael Shannon’s character, the sadistic government quack with a fancy title, is given too much screen time for a one-dimensional villain. There are only so many times we can watch him bully his colleagues, Elisa, the creature and any other unlucky victim before hoping the storyline will progress without him taking up unnecessary screen time. Admittedly, every time he intimidated someone without the grounds to stand up to him, I clenched my fists in fury at his barbaric treatment of others. I really liked how del Toro doesn’t try to give this character a backstory as a means to justify his outrageous motives: he’s just pure evil. There is a lot happening in the film with several plot threats going on at once, perhaps too many that the finished product risks becoming a little jumbled as the narrative hurriedly jumps from one to the other.

The heart of the film is the central love story. However, ‘The Shape of Water’ is also a deeply moral and political tale for these troubled times. I believe it’s the most important film you’ll see this year, as its contextual positioning in harsh reality enables the tale to resonate with modern concerns and anxieties. Its Cold War-era setting is essential to its discourse of identity and difference. Elisa’s best friend, for example, is an advertisement artist living in the closet and longing to be accepted in callous society. Del Toro’s poetic masterpiece joins the growing canon of films that confront stereotypes surrounding minorities and the issue of ‘othering’. The film is simply gorgeous to watch for its artful beauty, but it gradually emerges into a poignant examination of isolation, integration into civilisation and embracing differences. In the two horse race for Best Picture victory, this quirky fantasy stands a strong chance, though some will be sceptical at Elisa’s infatuation with a fishy monster. Del Toro’s masterfully crafted fairy tale is enlivened by a stellar performance from Sally Hawkins whose radiance will plunge into the depths of your heart and stay there.

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