Set in 1960s America, The Shape of Water follows the efforts of a group of friends as they try to save a mysterious creature – a beautifully costumed Doug Jones – from the lethal plans of the US military. More than just a simple romance wrapped with Cold War drama, though, the movie is a commentary on bigotry and inequality, with enough whimsy to avoid the weight of dogmatism. Sally Hawkins portrays the main character Elisa Esposito, a mute janitor at a government facility, and Octavia Spencer is her voluble workmate Zelda. Richard Jenkins plays Elisa’s gay neighbor Giles, and it is his narration that bookends the action and sets the tone of the film as a fairytale or fable, the sort of story with a moral. Any proper fairytale needs a villain, and Michael Shannon provides one in the form of government agent Richard Strickland, who refers to the creature dismissively as “the asset.” Rounding out the primary cast is Michael Stuhlbarg as Dr. Robert Hoffstetler, a scientist with secrets, the only character presented with moral ambiguity.
While this is fundamentally a love story, in the mold of Beauty and the Beast and like most of director Guillermo del Toro’s work, it is also about what defines a monster when there is a disconnect between surface impressions and underlying essence. Despite the visually monstrous appearance of “the asset,” Elisa quickly establishes a connection. Her muteness and the apparently associated scarring on her neck both make her an outcast in the outside world, but with the creature, nonverbal language is key to communication. As an artist, Giles is awed by what he sees as the creature’s beauty, a reminder that even visual cues are processed differently by different people. Dr. Hoffstetler, keen to learn as much about the creature as possible, initially challenges euthanizing it on purely scientific grounds but slowly comes to oppose the procedure for more profound reasons. All of these characters, for one reason or another, share an outsider status with the creature that helps them grasp its complexity.
As a foil, Strickland is the quintessential insider: a white man with the power of the government behind him. Having lost two fingers to “the asset,” Strickland treats it like the vicious animal he deems it to be, a believable position for someone living in a decade when people still lynched their fellow human beings. From our modern vantage point, Strickland seems almost like a caricature of a villain, but del Toro includes scenes that ground the character in the reality of his time. He reads The Power of Positive Thinking and goes home to the suburbs with a perfectly coiffed wife and two happy children. We see him shop for a new car and succumb to the peppy persuasion of the Cadillac salesman. When his boss castigates him, we sympathize; we almost understand why he would do anything to protect the life he has built. The most horrifying element of his character is that he is not so different from what we all might have striven to be.
By making the movie as a period piece, del Toro can convincingly cast each character as a stand-in for a group excluded from full participation in the American Dream that Strickland exemplifies. Women, people of color, homosexuals, immigrants, those with disabilities: these are all categories of people who have been denied equality in history – and, unfortunately, still today – based on their “otherness.” Each of the primary characters is a monster to someone in 1960s America, but through the lens of our modern values, we see them as heroes and view Strickland as the true menace. Del Toro masterfully convinces us to repudiate pursuit of the American Dream through our rejection of Strickland.
Last weekend at the Golden Globes, amidst an ambiance celebrating gender equality, adept purveyor of the American Dream Oprah Winfrey gave a rousing and inspiring speech as she accepted the Cecil B. DeMille award. Primed by Seth Meyers’ opening monologue, some people heard political ambition, and, even with less grandiose overtones, Oprah is a hard act to follow. Nevertheless, with her characteristic understated grace, Natalie Portman managed to extend the momentum, putting an exclamation point on the evening’s “Time’s Up” theme. https://www.timesupnow.com/ Introducing the award for best director, she deadpanned, “And here are the all-male nominees.” Unlike other male winners throughout the evening, Guillermo del Toro thanked the women involved in The Shape of Water and refrained from calling them girls. More importantly, though, he directed a film championing those who are marginalized and silenced by society’s norms. In the absence of any female nominees, del Toro’s win was a victory for the cause of equality.