Nominated For: Best Picture, Best Director; Guillermo del Toro, Best Actress; Sally Hawkins, Best Supporting Actor; Richard Jenkins, Best Supporting Actress; Octavia Spencer, Best Original Screenplay, Best Film Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design, Best Production Design, Best Sound Editing, Best Sound Mixing, and Best Original Score.
Won: Best Picture, Best Director; Guillermo del Toro, Best Production Design, and Best Original Score.
The Shape of Water washes audiences ashore in the year 1962 to follow Elisa, a mute janitor currently cleaning a top secret research facility. One day, security officer Richard Strickland arrives to the government lab with a mysterious monster in tow from South America. As Elisa encounters the aquatic creature in her day-to-day work, she forms a bond with the beast and decides she must free the wrongfully imprisoned Amphibian Man for the sake of its survival.
Guillermo del Toro dives into telling an unconventional story as both writer and director, receiving an assist from Vanessa Taylor in regards to screenplay. Del Toro is a visionary director who's perhaps most well known for writing and directing Hellboy, Pan's Labyrinth, Pacific Rim, and Crimson Peak. While I've only seen two of those films, I can say I'm quite familiar with hearing del Toro's name mentioned by cinephiles as a promising choice of director for countless peculiar projects. From the trailer alone, I could tell this film was coming from del Toro based on the picturesque production design and strange sensibilities of the story. My interest was peaked, but I didn't quite know what I was in for... Then the film stunned the festival circuit with standing ovations and took home many of the top audience awards... That was followed by a stream of critical acclaim and nominations out the wazoo in various critic circles and the Golden Globes... At that moment, I knew The Shape of Water had to be something special... and boy, was I right.
The Shape of Water is simply a beautiful film in all regards. The sea-foam green and aqua blue color scheme evidenced in Dan Laustsen's striking cinematography and Paul D. Austerberry's attractive era-appropriate production design evokes the guise of an extraordinary underwater environment. The creature design in-of-itself is stupendous, while the make-up, prosthetics, and visual effects effectively integrated with one another to create a convincing creature. The film's not just visually arresting though, as del Toro pours out a story that is sweet, sometimes dark, and surprisingly timely in spite of an antiquated setting. All of which is then reflected in Alexandre Desplat's exquisite score as it's able to sweep you off your feet, strain itself in the tense moments, and even startle you when things get scary.
At the center of it all, del Toro explores a shared connection between a human and creature that's rather reminiscent of the romance in Beauty and the Beast. For some, that may seem a bit off-putting. I had my own doubts that I would actually be invested in such an unusual relationship, but was shocked to see del Toro fully fill that proverbial glass. However, I'm sure there will still be those weirded out by the very idea of such a thing, so it really depends on your willingness to suspend disbelief and reel in the fishy concept. On that note, I feel it's worth warning you that del Toro's grounded fairytale is probably more mature than you'll be expecting. I'm not providing further context than the fact it's rated "R" for sexual content, graphic nudity, violence, and language, so I don't want to hear that you weren't ready.
When it boils down to it, The Shape of Water is all about outcasts. Del Toro's story flows alongside a mute janitor, a merman, a closeted gay man, an African American woman, a kind-hearted scientist, and, sadly, the guy that fits in happens to be cruel, perverted, and racist. They each seek acceptance from others in their own unique way, and their longing looks for wish fulfillment can certainly be soul shattering at times. So naturally, it's comforting to see their desires realized in unique, unexpected ways. With that being said, some portions of the plot are pretty predictable because you've seen other fantasies elsewhere. However, del Toro and the crew have put so much love and care into their craft that the heart of The Shape of Water reverberates endlessly, and so the current still flows in their favor.
Leading the exceptional ensemble, Sally Hawkins works wonders in the role of the unspoken Elisa Esposito. Hawkins communicates an abundance of expression without uttering a word. Her physicality, mannerisms, and screen presence do all the talking, and I seriously think she'll earn an Oscar nomination and maybe even win so long as the tides remain in her favor. Opposite Hawkins, Doug Jones is caked in makeup and prosthetics as the Amphibian Man. Jones is basically the practical equivalent of Andy Serkis. Where Serkis rules the motion-capture acting arena, Jones has been known to impressively act under plenty of prosthetics in the past. Like Serkis utilizes the magic of mo-cap to strengthen his performances, Jones makes the most of his makeup and body suits to craft compelling creatures, and the Amphibian Man is no exception. The fact he and Hawkins were able to extract such a rich rapport from a relationship of a mute woman and a scale-covered creature speaks volumes to their astounding abilities as actors.
Playing Elisa's nice neighbor Giles, Richard Jenkins steals the spotlight in such subtle ways. Jenkins takes what could have purely been a cliché character and excellently imbues him with nuance and a rich essence, leading you to pity the man for facing appalling animosity on account of Giles' sexuality. Rounding out the endowed ensemble cast are Michael Stuhlbarg, Octavia Spencer, and Michael Shannon. Stuhlbarg's got another powerhouse performance in his unbelievable year as an actor (he's also been in The Post and Call Me By Your Name), playing the part of a tender, concerned scientist Dr. Robert Hoffstetler. Spencer is a swell supporting presence as Elisa's coworker and friend, Zelda Fuller, elevating an otherwise ordinary role. In my book, it's Michael Shannon who lights up the screen though. Shannon is scary good here, turning Richard Strickland from a scumbag security officer to a driven, malignant force of contempt. Shannon is totally terrifying as the true monster of the tale.
Just like H20, The Shape of Water has no definite shape. The Shape of Water takes many different forms as a riveting romance, a sinister creature feature, and an affectionate ode to cinema, but each phase is deeply satisfying on account of its own merit, so the spontaneous compound is quite captivating.
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