It’s a film I’ve been anxious to see ever since it was first announced, and the near-ecstatic reactions online inevitably left me feverish with anticipation… and, alas, these are not always the best conditions under which to see a film. For now, as I reflect on The Shape of Water, I whole-heartedly agree with the consensus view that it’s a beautiful piece of cinema that is very well-acted, with an agreeably optimistic message that might very well be necessary in these increasingly bleak times. Yet even so, I haven’t fallen head over heels in love with the film as so many others seem to have. I found it impressive, entertaining and highly thought-provoking, yet not so deeply moving as del Toro and company clearly intended it to be.
As has been noted, it’s curious to think that The Shape of Water is in many respects rooted in del Toro’s own ideas for a remake of The Creature From The Black Lagoon, which he had at one point been attached to. This, of course, is far from the only way in which the film harks back to del Toro’s past; the Amphibian Man (as he is officially credited) is clearly similar, both in his appearance and his fondness for eggs, to Hellboy supporting character Abe Sapien, who was also portrayed by Doug Jones. We might, then, declare The Shape of Water to be pure Guillermo del Toro, a film that only this specific filmmaker could have made which bears his unmistakable signature; and yet, in many respects it’s aesthetically and thematically reminiscent of Jean-Pierre Jeunet, a feeling strengthened by Alexandre Desplat’s enormously Gallic soundtrack (not that Desplat ever scored a Jeunet movie). It feels rather unlike an American film – but then, that’s almost certainly the point. Here we have a film with a largely French aesthetic from a Mexican director, with an English actress in the lead, playing a mute woman whose best friends are an old gay man and a black woman, who ultimately falls in love with a half-man half-fish. It’s screamingly obvious that this is a film about challenging bigotry in all its forms, and communicating across all social boundaries.
And yet, despite the obvious audacity of its central conceit, The Shape of Water does not come across as an especially transgressive film. It does not set out to shock the audience; indeed, in this it stands apart from del Toro’s earlier films, as even its most violent and bloody moments fall short of the brutality of Pan’s Labyrinth or even Crimson Peak. Nor, beyond one brief scene between Hawkins and Spencer, is the essentially bestial love story ever played for laughs. In common with all del Toro’s most personal films, The Shape of Water is an entirely sincere attempt to evoke the simple, direct approach of fables and fairy tales, with the key message that we should not fear that which is different from ourselves. As such, it’s only fitting that the film treats its central love story – including, gasp, its sexual elements – without judgement. Beyond a few comparatively mild moments in Crimson Peak, Del Toro hasn’t handled sexuality this frankly before, and it’s fascinating and refreshing that these sequences do not in any way come off salacious or voyeuristic. Sex is presented is something entirely natural, even innocent – even when it’s happening between creatures who are not quite the same species.
I get the feeling it’s going to take another viewing or two for me to fully process The Shape of Water; indeed, I considered delaying this review until I’d seen it a second time, in hopes of laying my uncertainties to rest. While, as of right now, it hasn’t entirely swept me away, I can still happily declare The Shape of Water a triumphant, beautiful film with excellent performances, which richly deserves to be seen and talked about. To my mind, though, Del Toro’s true masterpiece remains Pan’s Labyrinth.
The Shape of Water is in UK cinemas on Wednesday 14th February, from Fox Searchlight.