The Shape of Whatever

Let us be clear on one thing; 'meh' isn't a word I like to use; if we're going to be totally honest it's non even a word, it's an onomatopoeia more in line with 60's Batman mainstays pow! bam! and the ever versatile zlonk! It has become synonymous with the disenfranchised millennial youth unable to conjure up the right words to accurately express how bored and apathetic they've become but fair play to them it works, even if I find it a bit lazy. Despite my being a bit of a smart arse (by which I mean total, utter and complete smart arse) even I find myself at a loss to be definitive and succinct; on those occasions, 'meh' can come in quite handy, even if I do feel like I've admitted defeat in using it.

Some movies grab you by the gut, throat or feels and shake you so vigorously that it changes your outlook on life, at least for the two hours in the cinema and the 45 minutes directly afterwards. Some movies however, listlessly paw at your soft underbelly and make as much impact as a snowflake hitting a waffle iron. You know you probably should feel something uplifting because the trailer and reviews told you to and the Academy nominations for best picture absolutely insist that should probably be weeping softly as you leave the screening. 

That's how we get to 'meh'.

And so it goes, sadly, with The Shape of Water.

I am unashamedly a fan of Guilermo del Toro because he's directed some of my favourite movies; Mimic, Blade 2, Hellboy, Pan's Labyrinth, Pacific Rim. Not all classics necessarily, but all enjoyable and all crafted well. Crimson Peak however was horrible toss, however beautifully shot it was and although The Shape of Water never sinks quite that low (puns always intended) it is conspicuous by how little it stood out. I'd go as far as saying it was predictable from start to finish.

This is a fairly un-del Toro del Toro movie by most standards. He's excelled in adult fairy tales and there is that fantastical element running throughout, but it is much less in the forefront. There's certainly a game of 'guess who the real monster is' going on from moment one of the opening narration although it's patently obvious what the answer is from the moment Michael Shannon sneers his way into frame as a God-bothering, racist G-man with a strange relationship with his wife and his cattle prod. There's also a well meaning but ultimately clumsy exploration of what it means to be an outsider but it's far from subtle or nuanced sadly. There are comments on attitudes towards people of colour and homosexuals but they really don't feel that important to the plot overall and don't really do much to advance anything. I couldn't get away from how obvious everything was in the end. The heroine, Elise, abandoned on the river and found in the water has scars on her neck which screeched their true purpose from the get go. Lingering shots of laundry baskets and corridors telegraphing their eventual pivotal use, a camera moved to hide a smoke break, a conspicuous note written on a calendar that is purely only ever going to be exposition; all this foreshadowing and not a twist, nor wrong-step, nor herring of any shade, hue or colour anywhere. There are even weird dead ends that sort of trail off, never to be referred to again; a hastily discarded egg for example, is presented as momentous but just... isn't. The G-Man's completely random crush on the heroine comes out of the deep blue and promptly goes exactly nowhere.

In fact, random is probably the best way to describe much of what happens. Chief amongst the randomness is a black and white Rogers/Astaire dance number daydream sequence which I'm really sorry to say just made me recall Blazing Saddles and robbed the supposedly poignant moment of all its gravitas. Quite aside from the whole human/fish dude inter species ugly-bumping which whilst not even remotely graphic is an enduring and faintly disturbing image. The fact that Elise liberates the potentially God like Amazonian river creature is all well and good, but I'm not sure we needed to go any further than that. Quite why her best friend not only isn't appalled that she humped a man-fish, but doesn't seem terribly surprised is unfathomable to me. It kind of makes sense at the end I guess, but it's still weird.

So that all said, let's talk about the elephant seal in the room. The Shape of Water is most definitely not anything to do with Hellboy, The BPRD, Abe Sapien or anyone or thing in that universe. Only it kind of is, which makes me feel like somebody half-arsed their job along the way. It isn't Doug Jones' fault that the fish guy really, really reminds me of Abe Sapien. He's a great creature performer and best mates with del Toro so he was always going in the suit. But why make him look so similar? Why go to all the lengths of denying any links with Abe to then just go ahead and make them look like cousins at very least? Why make him live in a similar looking tank, give him similar physiological attributes, and even the same appetite for eggs and music? OK granted, rotten eggs are different from boiled eggs and the music is from a different era but still, it's so close to Abe it makes me wonder why nobody was mentioned it. Did nobody show the concept art to someone who'd seen Hellboy? You have to imagine someone asked if they were making a Hellboy prequel only to be escorted from the building, stripped of his security clearance and dumped behind the studios in his underwear, having to make his way home in his bare feet, humiliated and jobless only to find he'd been evicted. I genuinely thought there'd be a link, or an Easter egg or something. Nope, none of that sir; you get what you're given and you'll like it.

So effectively what we have is an Oscar-nominated love story/modern day mermaid fairytale about how outsiders of all sorts which plays out exactly as you'd expect it to, except with a whole bunch of slightly uncomfortable implicit bestiality, a little bit of nasty violence although surprisingly little gore and no hint of Anung Un Rama what-s0-ever.

Meh.