The white noise of submergence can be heard like soaked heart beat in writer-director Guillermo Del Toro’s fairy tale. True love can be found in the most unfathomable abyss, and “The Shape of Water” shows that emotions can float through any ceiling if there is pure willingness to witness and listen. Drenched in a semi-dark, blue-green palette, Del Toro presents how feelings command sufficient air in the water.
A love story during the Cold War in the U.S.A., “The Shape of Water” tells about Elisa Esposito – played by Sally Hawkins – a mute cleaning lady at a classified government research center. One night at work, she meets a whimsical fish-human hybrid known only as the Amphibian Man (Douglas Jones), which is kept for experiment in the facility. They form a mutual relationship that transcends language and biological barriers.
Whilst mute, Elisa is spawned by Hawkins through sheer aptitude – with roused facial expression and bodily articulation that flows like wind above rain. “The Shape of Water” is flooded with unique, enjoyable characters. Del Toro allows his bluest film to breathe significance through Giles (Richard Jenkins), an old gay man, and Delilah (Octavia Spencer), a black cleaning lady. Both of them share a bond with Elisa but are conflicted to establish themselves beyond the norm about their societal status during the time.
Although, “The Shape of Water” struggles with originality. It borrows from Hollywood’s classic scenes, and the movie’s concept is purportedly inspired by “Creature from Black Lagoon.” In its earnestness, the film is a drizzle of enchantment through an enjoyable escapism. The characters crave for a form of retreat, their desire as abstract as water. They fight with their affections to grasp their longing before it is vaporized.
Elisa finds her escapism through the Amphibian Man, and their love is worth beyond solid expression. Their feelings are reshaped in their devoted gaze – ebbing into absolute fondness. Del Torro magically saturates hearts into viewing that the water is the healing for the monstrosity within. So it can be deemed that love can soak any flaw, granting every monster, known and unknown, its grand perfection – where it can breathe new life for a fresh and satisfying adoration.
Fluid visuals are poured in “The Shape of Water.” The only moment where it was drained of its color was when Del Torro finally lets Elisa shatter the deafening quietness of her affections. All of the screen is watered down where Hawkins swirls her most sound performance against a colorless constellation. “The Shape of Water” is a monster-piece as it is a masterpiece. The film is the current that drives a downpour of endearment. Soak it in.
Director: Guillermo Del Torro
*Trailer © IAMAG; YouTube.com
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