The Shape of Water Review

Last night I had one of the most powerful experiences in a movie theater that I haven't had in a while. I finally got the chance to see Guillermo del Toro's "The Shape of Water" and there were so many elements in it that made it perhaps my new favorite movie of all time. There might be minor spoilers so if you have not seen the movie do not read further.

The Shape of Water focuses on Elisa Esposito, a mute cleaning woman in the 1960s during the cold war. Elisa lives next door to her friend, Giles, a closeted gay man who works as an artist. Her other friend is Zelda, a black female who works with her at a laboratory and often translates for her when interviewed. Zelda lives an isolated life that is routine until she witnesses a new addition to the laboratory, a sea creature held in captivity under the sadistic Colonel Strickland. Elisa sees the creature while she is cleaning the room and what follows is a budding relationship between Elisa and the Creature.

Since this is an erotica blog, I'll spend sometime talking about how sex is portrayed. While nothing explicit is shown, the sensual way in which they are shot had me shifting in my seat, from the brief shots of Elisa sinking into her bathtub to pleasure herself, to the way she straddles the creature as they embrace. The only hint at sex is when Elisa strips before getting into the bathtub with the creature. But it's the glow in her face, figuratively when she is at work with Zelda and then literally when Guillermo uses sunlight to hit her face when she looks out the window of the bus on her way to work. It's the slow pace of their relationship, the first half hour with Elisa rescuing the creature after numerous montages of her having lunch with it and then there is the time she spends at work covering for the fact that she's hiding it in her apartment. The entire time I felt the frustration in being excited over a new attraction and having to wait. That is why the payoff, seeing Elisa find the courage to share the bathtub with the creature, is magical. We can use our own imagination to imagine what the first naked touch of someone we care for, who cares about us, feels like. The smooth slipping sensation of legs intertwining and the sensation of our hearts racing when we feel their lips on ours. None of this was in the scene but it was just one route my imagination ran down while in the theater. I think my favorite was when Giles walked in on them together. The look Elisa gives him while wrapping her arms around the creature, not shame, not indignity, but defiant and proud lust for finally finding someone. Earlier in the movie, Elisa gives a heart-wrenching explanation to Giles about why rescuing the creature matters, I got choked up watching Sally Hawkins emote while signing how painful being treated as an "other" was and when we see her on cloud nine, it's so intoxicating.

Other things I loved about the movie are the parallels Guillermo drew within the time period during the "Space Race" between Russia and the U.S. and the current political climate. Colonel Strickland plays a determined family man who wants to succeed in completing his job in making sure the creature is properly studied. This ends with them deciding to kill it. The motivation for the U.S. is to hold onto the creature so the Russians won't get it, representing just one aspect of the anxiety and hegemony that the U.S. operates under. Strickland's anxiety gets worse throughout the movie, focusing on "success" and getting more angry as he fights to correct the mistake of losing the creature. With the 1960s, Strickland represents white, Christian patriarchal ideals. His anger towards women who speak against him manifests in physical action, from holding his hand over his wife's mouth to stop her from talking while they have sex, to purposely spilling his water to force Elisa to stay and listen to him imply his desire to rape her. My friend pointed out that the only reason Elisa intrigues him is because she does not have a voice, the only type of woman he would want. What stood out for me was that despite touting himself as a family man, the scenes with Strickland and his family are always cold. His wife and children offer warmth and a desire to engage with him while he remains stoic and focusing on his internal thoughts, completely detached.

In contrast, all of the characters with marginalized identities maintain warm connections with each other, representing the importance of social support for oppressed populations when the dominant culture pushes them aside. Even before the creature is in Elisa's home, each character does some action in support to their friend, sometimes without understanding the full context, and that also adds to the warmth and love that this movie carries. Each character experiences isolation, Zelda I would argue feels this despite being married given that her relationship to her husband is one in which he is dependent on her but not very engaging. This is why their support for each other makes sense when they scramble to help the creature survive as we realize they've had to provide emotional support for each other for years in an overtly oppressive era.

I love watching horror directors move outside of their genre, there's something fascinating about filmmakers cutting their teeth in horror films that makes their later work an absolute joy. Guillermo del Toro is no exception. Shape of Water is a beautiful fantasy romance, using amazing colors to paint a beautiful 1960s setting while holding onto his dark storytelling to portray a unique form of toxic masculinity driven by anxiety. Go out and see The Shape of Water, regardless if you see it alone or with someone you will not be disappointed.