REVIEW | The Shape of Water (2017)

If I spoke about it — if I did — what would I tell you? I wonder.

Pure Fantasy — Guillermo del Toro’s speciality, from the gorgeous to the ghastly.

Set in the backdrop of 1960’s America, Elisa Esposito is among the cleaners of a top-secret research facility that houses an assortment of scientific and military secrets —including a rare anthropomorphic amphibian. As the intrigue of the science and security officers alike lead towards the inevitable experimentation and dissection of the specimen — Elisa is compelled to save the exquisite creature from his demise out of compassion, preservation, and perhaps even more.

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*Minor spoilers for The Shape of Water ahead*

Where trailers, moviegoers, and synopses would lead people to believe that you will dream of a fishman — Guillermo’s fishman will have you dreaming that anything goes and anything can happen. The Shape of Water is very much a fantasy that replenishes your dreams — it had me thoroughly fascinated like a kid bursting with imagination, running wild enough to keep me awake despite the impending work day ahead of my late Sunday night screening.

As the classic and conventional depiction of movie monsters were consistently terrorising audiences (such as the unavoidable comparison to 1954’s The Creature from the Black Lagoon), the film swaps out those filters to amplify a romantic fantasy set within a modern fairy-tale.

Successfully illustrating humanity’s capacity for tragedy and beauty, through a timeless fable within in a distant era.

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With a world that is so fleshed out and immersive, you could take any given camera angle of this fascinating fiction — and it would still be wholesome. Yet no chances were taken, and the cinematography — just as the hypnotic score — was beautifully crafted to relay every depth of emotion filling the theatre.

With the characters perfectly written to stave off from overly-developed identities (most commonly found unfolding across television series) and single-dimension portrayals.

As much as the film may revolve around the exotic Amphibious creature, Guillermo del Toro establishes a two-way street in engaging his audiences — by portraying humanity as the inconceivable, curious species that we are [to him]. Just as the cast exhibits their curiosity towards his latest (and certainly not his last) movie-monster offering, he analogously provides the exploration of the strangest of creatures — that is, human.

The Shape of Water is seemingly designed not to drag you in the water nor leave you removed on land — it instead welcomes you in a world where everyone had always belonged. With every scene beating with a heart of its own, it reaches out to you insisting that our being inherently houses budding fantasies — that’s just waiting for a little water to bloom.

All enough to have you going towards the deep end on your own.

As you sit at a distance recounting the similarities you could draw from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (1991), it’s invaluable to note that Guillermo has had a history of not only bringing to life fantastical creatures and childhood nightmares — but also cementing his visions, by building a whole new world that houses his monsters and their stories right in our own neighbourhood.

Such passion and consideration (wherever that stems from) would make almost anything infinitely more interesting.

Whether you’re drawn purely from curiosity, or allured by the intrigue surrounding the film’s premise. Without a doubt — The Shape of Water is a cinematic marvel that delivers the cadence of all the right emotions, as it transports from the darkness of the theatre to another world.

It is among the few stories you can actually look upon, and definitively describe it as — simply beautiful.