THE SHAPE OF WATER
Guillermo del Toro’s Oscar-winning cross-species love story comes to Blu-ray.
released 25 June (Download available 11 June) 2018 | 15 | Blu-ray (4K/standard)/ dVd/download Director Guillermo del Toro Cast sally Hawkins, Michael shannon, richard Jenkins, Octavia spencer, Michael stuhlbarg, doug Jones
Looks like we might have to give up the annual game of decrying the Academy for their unimaginative choices; this year they not only handed their top gong to an out-and-out fantasy film, but one about bestiality.
Okay, that’s a fatuously reductive way to describe Guillermo del Toro’s heartstringtugger. But it touches upon an important element here. This outsider romance isn’t just about friendship across the species divide. The moment that (spoiler!) its heroine disrobes and steps into a tub with a humanoid amphibian, it’s clear that this is a relationship that’s consummated. Sure, it’s an intelligent creature, but it also bites the head off a cat… So that moment could easily have had audiences sucking their teeth or exploding into nervous laughter. The fact that it doesn’t speaks volumes about this film’s sweetness and sincerity.
Set in 1962, it follows the mute Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins), cleaner at a government facility that’s just acquired a new “asset” from South America: think the Creature From The Black Lagoon, but with a six-pack. Soon, through small acts of kindness, Elisa builds a bond with the beast (played by Doug Jones). When she uncovers a military plan to vivisect it, she devises a rescue plan...
Even taking into account Elisa’s “invisibility”, the ease with which she visits the creature beggars belief. But then The Shape Of Water is essentially a fairytale, and best considered in such terms. That doesn’t mean it’s oldfashioned, mind. Del Toro and co-writer Vanessa Taylor’s script takes pains not to gloss over the racial prejudice and homophobia of early-’60s America. And with Elisa’s best friends numbering a middle-aged gay man and an African-American woman, it’s a film that consistently places marginalised characters at its centre. In the shape of Michael Shannon’s gimlet-eyed army interrogator, it also has a perfect bogeyman for the #MeToo era: a workplace harasser whose attraction to Elisa fetishises her status as a woman who stays silent.
None of this is subtle, but it’s effective. The same is true of del Toro’s visuals. It’s a sumptuously beautiful film, with colour choices obvious even to a layman. This world is painted in unifying shades of marine green – with the odd flash of red to signify passion.
It’s reminiscent of Jean-Pierre Jeunet as much as del Toro’s own filmography. Speaking of the French director, if you needed to encapsulate the film for a friend, “Amelie falls for the Creature From The Black Lagoon” would do the job. The Jeunet favourite also had an isolated protagonist defined by her kindness, and a
The purity of the central romance is the chief delight
score replete with accordion. And with its old movie clips and bursts of latin jazz, del Toro’s film also mines joy from cultural relics.
But it’s the purity of the central romance which is the chief delight. Jones lends his amphibian man stature and grace, and Hawkins is exceptional, communicating Elisa’s feelings so well through facial expression alone that the spoken word comes to seem quite superfluous. And when she signs the depth of her feelings for the creature, in terms whose universality strikes a resonant chord – “He does not know what I lack, or how I am incomplete. He sees me for what I am, as I am” – there’s a danger your heart may break.
Extras The lack of commentary is disappointing. Four-part Making Of “A Fairy Tale For Troubled Times” (29 minutes) compensates a little. Covering the creature, production design and the score, it has some interesting insights, from del Toro’s guidance to Doug Jones (“Stand like a toreador”) to the sneaky recycling of set elements from his TV show The Strain (to save money, the film was shot on its soundstages between seasons). The section on production design is particularly worth your time (see right). The Blu-ray adds two “Anatomy Of A Scene” pieces (eight minutes) which look at the opening prologue, shot “dry for wet” with props floating about on wires, and the film’s musical interlude. Rounding off the HD package are an interview with poster artist James Jean (five minutes) and bits of a “Master Class” Q&A with del Toro and key crew (13 minutes).
The poem Elisa’s friend Giles recites at the end adapts some lines by 11th/12th century Persian poet Hakim Sanai.