The Shape of WaterWhat is love if not two souls learning to communicate as one? The Shape of Water is a romantic science fiction film about Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins), a mute cleaner who works nights at a top secret government lab (circa the 1950s). Elisa learns that its sinister commander, Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon), has acquired an "asset" in the Cold War: a semi-amphibious being yanked from the murky waters in South America, credited as the "Amphibian Man" (Doug Jones). Elisa bonds with the Amphibian Man, and saves him when she discovers he is to be killed and dissected. An unorthodox love affair blossoms between these two beings that exist outside of a cookie cutter vision of "modern" society.
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Similar to other films directed by Guillermo del Toro, The Shape of Water hearkens back to classic sci-fi movies, with its most obvious influence being Creature from the Black Lagoon. Most of The Shape of Water is set within the subterranean laboratory where Elisa works, along with her friend, Zelda (Octavia Spencer), who interprets for her as needed. The setting gives The Shape of Water a claustrophobic feel, engendering sympathy for the Amphibian Man's incarceration. Elisa craves love, but struggles to find it in an America embracing a sterile brand of uniformity over diversity. Her only male companion is her neighbor, Giles (Richard Jenkins), whose affections are for guys like the local franchise owner of a pie shop (Morgan Kelly). The Shape of Water establishes two kinds of people in its world: the privileged and the downtrodden. Being mute and Hispanic, Elisa's lot in life is to clean the floors alongside Zelda--who is black--in a pre-civil rights movement America. After Giles reveals his interest to the "Pie Guy" in a moment of vulnerability, he is exiled from the diner. Those in power in the secret government lab are all white males, with Strickland representing the acme of this privilege. Strickland is deliberately presented as a loathsome man, from the moment where he deigns to wash his hands after using the bathroom, while Elisa and Zelda are in the midst of cleaning it--and this is the least of his issues. He establishes his authority by bullying those weaker than him, revealing himself as an arrogant sexist and racist in a single conversation with the two women. He carries around a long, phallic cattle prod to subdue those he cannot intimidate--a manifestation of his insecurities, further emphasized when a Cadillac salesman hooks him into buying a Seville, despite his protestations about the teal car looking "green". Elisa is determined to save the Amphibian Man from being slaughtered by the alpha-male Strickland. It is no surprise that those who come to his rescue are all "minorities"--outsiders who have been abused and ignored, like the Amphibian Man--including a merciful scientist named Dr. Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), who is secretly a sleeper agent for the Soviets, and ergo a communist in America.
Despite the socio-political overtones, The Shape of Water cradles nostalgia for the 1950s--with references to television programs and movies--as well as representing the era from an exaggerated perspective. Elisa's apartment in Baltimore is surprisingly spacious for someone who makes her living mopping floors, and is situated above a palatial movie theater--which few people actually attend. Her home and the backdrop of this fictional Baltimore looks more like a movie set than a real city. It's stage-like quality recalls other sci-fi films that paid homage to B-movie gems from the Fifties, like Frank Oz's remake of Little Shop of Horrors. Green is a dominant color in The Shape of Water--specifically sea-green, or "teal" even. This represents feelings of placidity and calm that Elisa experiences as she dreams--the water is where she feels the most comfortable. This cinematic language emphasizes her subconscious desires, stimulated by the Amphibian Man, who is of the same color that correlates with her attraction. Before Elisa goes to work every night, she boils eggs while she satisfies herself in her bathtub. When she encounters the Amphibian Man, she offers him one of her hard-boiled eggs as he swims in his own "bath", regarding him with an eager look in her eyes. Elisa pities the Amphibian Man for the abuse he endures at the hands of the sadistic Strickland, and consoles him by teaching him sign language and dances for him to records she plays on her portable record player. Elisa bears a few scars on her neck, implied to be the cause of her muted voice; they share a physical similarity to the Amphibian Man's gills--no doubt noticed by him. Despite the abuse he has suffered by mankind, he sees in Elisa someone who understands him. After Elisa rescues the Amphibian Man from the lab, she shares increasingly intimate moments with him, trying to understand him in a more profound way. Aware of his discomfort at being outside of the water, she floods her bathroom so they can swim together underwater, and so that she can see the world from his point of view. Instead of remaking Creature from the Black Lagoon as a freaky woman-loves-fish man sci-fi romp, del Toro uses empathy and metaphor to bring its underlying themes to the surface, and explore how far two people in love will go to truly know one another.
Recommended for: Fans of a touching romance about two marginalized souls who discover that they can be understood by one another. The Shape of Water uses the period setting as a backdrop to encourage audiences to empathize with their fellow Earthlings, be they from the land or the sea.
Despite the socio-political overtones, The Shape of Water cradles nostalgia for the 1950s--with references to television programs and movies--as well as representing the era from an exaggerated perspective. Elisa's apartment in Baltimore is surprisingly spacious for someone who makes her living mopping floors, and is situated above a palatial movie theater--which few people actually attend. Her home and the backdrop of this fictional Baltimore looks more like a movie set than a real city. It's stage-like quality recalls other sci-fi films that paid homage to B-movie gems from the Fifties, like Frank Oz's remake of Little Shop of Horrors. Green is a dominant color in The Shape of Water--specifically sea-green, or "teal" even. This represents feelings of placidity and calm that Elisa experiences as she dreams--the water is where she feels the most comfortable. This cinematic language emphasizes her subconscious desires, stimulated by the Amphibian Man, who is of the same color that correlates with her attraction. Before Elisa goes to work every night, she boils eggs while she satisfies herself in her bathtub. When she encounters the Amphibian Man, she offers him one of her hard-boiled eggs as he swims in his own "bath", regarding him with an eager look in her eyes. Elisa pities the Amphibian Man for the abuse he endures at the hands of the sadistic Strickland, and consoles him by teaching him sign language and dances for him to records she plays on her portable record player. Elisa bears a few scars on her neck, implied to be the cause of her muted voice; they share a physical similarity to the Amphibian Man's gills--no doubt noticed by him. Despite the abuse he has suffered by mankind, he sees in Elisa someone who understands him. After Elisa rescues the Amphibian Man from the lab, she shares increasingly intimate moments with him, trying to understand him in a more profound way. Aware of his discomfort at being outside of the water, she floods her bathroom so they can swim together underwater, and so that she can see the world from his point of view. Instead of remaking Creature from the Black Lagoon as a freaky woman-loves-fish man sci-fi romp, del Toro uses empathy and metaphor to bring its underlying themes to the surface, and explore how far two people in love will go to truly know one another.
Recommended for: Fans of a touching romance about two marginalized souls who discover that they can be understood by one another. The Shape of Water uses the period setting as a backdrop to encourage audiences to empathize with their fellow Earthlings, be they from the land or the sea.